Chapter Six #4
“Three days?” Marcus exclaimed. “Had you not gone by way of Solway Firth—”
“Yes,” Elise agreed in a voice far removed from Scotland—from him. “Yes.”
“Why take that route?”
She shrugged. “We encountered bad weather and must have been blown off course. I didn't concern myself with the route.” The bitterness in her voice said she now counted that a mistake.
Marcus kept to himself the knowledge that a storm couldn't have taken them to Solway Firth had they not been north of Ireland to begin with.
“You can't know what it is to watch your child die.” She looked down into her lap where her hands lay clasped. “We could do nothing. When Steven heard of a specialist in England, we set sail immediately. I thank God she died in peace. Facing what came afterwards would have been far worse.”
“And the others on the ship?” Marcus asked.
“We traveled on a barque, three-masted. Not a large ship, with only a crew of eleven. Then there was Steven, R-iley and I.”
“Riley?” Marcus repeated.
“My husband.”
“Who is Steven?”
“My brother.” Elise stared out over the valley. “The commotion woke me in the middle of the night. By the time Steven came for me—”
“Steven, not your husband?”
“No. By the time Steven got to my cabin, smoke filled the corridors. He dragged me up on deck. I was sure we wouldn't make it; the corridor was so thick with smoke.”
“No chance the ship could be saved?”
“They tried. Flames lapped up from the galley and the sails were ablaze. The wind blew hard. A storm had kicked up and the sails flapped furiously. Oh, how the wind can howl.”
“Storms are common in the sound,” Marcus said. “What started the fire?”
She grunted, a low but distinctly disgusted sound.
“Likely an unattended lamp.” She gave a mirthless laugh.
“I knew what Steven meant to do. But, damn him, he knew me just as well. He gave me no chance.” She looked at Marcus, her gaze burning into him.
“Threw me overboard without so much as a by-your-leave.”
“Indeed?”
“Damn you, one and all,” she said under her breath.
Marcus cleared his throat. “He managed a boat, I take it?”
“What?” she answered on a distracted note. “Oh, yes.” All bitterness had vanished from her voice. “I should have warned him, but I never dreamed—” her voice broke and Marcus realized she was weeping.
“Elise, love.”
She shook her head, turning away. He sat up and reached for her. She tried to stand but couldn't manage her skirts quickly enough. He hauled her onto his lap and hugged her close.
“I would like to go home,” she said into his shirt between quiet tears.
“Love,” he whispered, “you are home.”
“Amelia was gone,” she said as if not having heard him. “But Steven—”
Some minutes passed. At last, her soft cries subsided and Marcus felt her chest expand with a deep breath. “A piece of him died each day with Amelia. When she—” Elise fumbled in her pocket. Marcus calmed the nervous search by placing his hand over hers. She stilled.
Marcus brushed the tears away with a thumb.
“I should have allowed Amelia to die in her own home,” Elise said when he'd finished. “Steven would still be here.”
“Steven suggested the doctor? He must have been as anxious as you to see her recover.”
“Of course,” she answered crossly.
“Could you have stopped him?”
“He couldn't have gone without us. Yes. I could have stopped him.”
“Somehow, I doubt that.”
“He was a determined fool,” she cut in, “but had I told him it was best—”
“He would have carried you onto the ship.”
“Damnable men,” she muttered.
“What of Amelia's father?”
“He did not survive.”
That Marcus knew, but he found it strange that Elise's story didn't include her husband. Too painful, he realized, and said, “I'm sorry, lass.”
“Fate is strange,” she murmured.
“You can't blame yourself for their deaths,” Marcus said.
“You would be amazed at what I can do.”
Marcus felt a tremor pass through her. He hugged her closer. “Dinna' say more.”
“Seems a bit late for that,” she remarked in a dry tone.
He sighed. “Lass, you could remain here quiet all night and I wouldna' complain.”
She looked up at him. “It is not… common—for a brother and sister, that is—but Steven was my friend. I shall never find that kind of trust again.”
His gaze fell on her left hand and the spot where he knew the scar was on her palm's edge. She hadn't escaped the fire completely unharmed. He took the hand, lifted it to his lips and kissed the scar. He placed the hand around his waist, then slid a hand into her hair and tilted her head upward.
“Are ye sure?” he asked.
Her mouth parted with quiet surprise. He had promised himself he wouldn't touch her.
Yet his head lowered and his mouth covered hers of its own volition.
Elise offered no resistance when he parted her lips with his tongue.
He tightened his hold, the fire in him hot.
Still, he kept the kiss soft, his tongue thrusting gently in her mouth.
She relaxed. His groin tightened and he ended the kiss.
He sighed. His only choice now was to take her home or take her there.