21. Isla #2
Sandy met them at the top of the stairs, and the two sailors bracketed Isla until they had her safely inside her cabin.
“I’ve got th’ others settled into their beds.
I just need to get ‘em strapped down. I’ll roam between th’ two rooms to make sure they’re good.
Got th’ slops buckets ready, too.” She unlocked a storage cupboard, grabbed a pail, and handed it to Ilona before leaving her and Isla alone.
As Ilona helped her further into the cabin, Isla’s feet slid out from under her.
The lady’s maid caught her in her arms, swept her hand beneath her knees, and picked her up, only to deposit her on the seat of a wooden chair bolted to the floor.
Isla gritted her teeth to keep them from chattering.
“You can’t tell me this is only a little squall. ”
“When you’re not used to them, storms feel monstrous when you’re on a ship.” Ilona spoke while she worked. “You’re lucky the Jest is so large. Her weight and size make her more stable.” Amusement shone in her eyes when she said, “Forgive me, My Lady, but I need to strip off your wet clothes.”
“Oh.” Isla was finally catching her breath. “Yes, please.” Now that the excitement and, she had to admit, terror had worn off, her teeth chattering increased. She began unbuttoning her blouse, but Ilona shook her head.
“We need to be quick about it. If you’ll—” The ship rolled, and Ilona grabbed the sides of the chair until they righted again. “If you’ll raise your arms.…” As soon as Isla complied, Ilona had the blouse up and over her head. “Your stays need to come off, too.”
With fingers shaking from the cold, Isla undid the lacing while Ilona disappeared into the closet. She brought out a towel and a warm nightgown, which she laid on the bed. Returning to Isla, she gently pulled her up by her arm. “Hold on to me, and we’ll get this skirt and your knickers off.”
A kind smile reassured Isla that this woman—this warrior woman—had indeed done this before and had no qualms about undressing a total stranger.
Ilona spoke while down on one knee looking up.
“Not the most genteel way for two women to get to know one another.” As Isla held onto her shoulders, Ilona pulled her soaked skirt off, setting it to the side before returning to slide her knickers down past her feet.
“But you have to admit, it cuts out all of that unnecessary small talk I find so tedious at social functions.”
Isla laughed at this woman's multifaceted personality. With Ilona’s help, she made it to the bed and sat while the lady’s maid toweled her dry and helped her into her bedclothes.
“Under the covers now, and we’ll try to banish those blue lips and chattering teeth.
” She flipped a latch on a drawer in the side of the bed Isla hadn’t seen before and pulled out a long belt about four inches wide.
She slipped a grommet on one end over a brass hook that, when not in use, tucked flat against the bedframe.
When pushed, a curved metal hook slid out on a hinged joint.
Having secured one end, she ran the belt over the blanket and across Isla’s midsection.
She stepped around the end of the bed to the other side and attached the second end to a hook identical to the first. After pulling it tight with a belt tensioner, she patted the cover and smiled.
“There. Snug as a seed in a pod. I’m going to my berth to change, but then I’ll be back to stay with you.
On another note, I’d much prefer that you tell me if you’re getting nauseous so we can get the bucket to you in time.
I won’t appreciate a stiff upper lip since I’ll be the one cleaning the cabin if you cast up. ”
“You didn’t answer my question.” At Ilona’s puzzled look, Isla elaborated. “I said you can’t tell me this is a little squall.”
“Ah.” She raised a finger. “Hold that thought.” Ilona walked to the window and grasped one of three handles positioned directly below the frame.
She pulled up a shutter and latched it shut, repeating the process with the other two so that the thick, dark panels entirely obscured the roiling sea.
“Now, I’m going to take a moment to run to my berth to change.
And yes, this is a very minor squall, especially for a large, heavy ship like the Jest.”
The door clicked shut, leaving Isla alone with her thoughts.
She envied Ilona’s strength of mind and body.
Her steps were confident and sure, and she was a woman content to wield a sword or serve her and the Fitzgeralds, doing such menial tasks as making their beds, emptying their bedpans, or, in Isla’s case, zipping a zipper that was impossible to reach.
And she’d taken an uncultured peasant as her wife without regard for how people would scrutinize such a strange mismatch of looks and personalities.
And the way she wore those skin-tight leather breeches, daring someone to call her out for the inappropriateness of her attire, was remarkable.
When Ilona had taken her hand in the storm, her callouses scraped against Isla’s skin the same way Jonto’s had.
And it hadn’t simply been sword callouses, either.
She was familiar with the feel of those because she’d shaken hands with the king’s knights who occasionally traveled through Fachan’s Bay.
No, her hands were rough from the combination of swordplay and hard work, the kind that any fashionable lady would most definitely avoid.
Isla didn’t consider herself soft. She rode horses, cleaned their hooves when necessary, and groomed and saddled them herself.
Hadn’t she grabbed that ram by the horns and swung him around when he’d charged Lily?
She’d been proud of herself for doing something very few, if any, of her peers would have done.
And yet, watching Ilona made all those attempts to break the mold of societal expectations seem so small and insignificant.
The ship rocked and then lurched, forcing an absurd little squeak from her lungs as the movement roughly shoved her against the belt.
Bile rose in her throat, and she eyed the cabinet where Ilona had placed the bucket.
Determined not to spew, she closed her eyes and thought of anything other than her stomach and the incessant rolling of the ship.
Her eyes flew open upon hearing the click of the latch.
Ilona, dressed in clothing identical to the ones soaked by the storm and carrying her boots, stepped into the room, still toweling dry her hair.
She grinned when she noticed Isla watching her.
“I’m sorry. Usually, I’d take the time to fix my hair before returning, but I didn’t want to leave you alone any longer than necessary. All good?”
At Isla’s nod, Ilona folded the towel and wiped up the wet spots their soaked clothing and boots had left on the sole.
With that seen to, she took it to the closet and hung it over a drying rack.
“I hope I remember this when I leave, but if I don’t, remind me, and I’ll come get it.
” Her hair was short enough that running both hands through it several times tamed any wild or tangled strands.
With a sigh, Isla realized there was yet another thing to envy.
The ship’s rough movement felt less violent, but her nausea hadn’t abated one bit.
Remembering Ilona’s request, Isla felt her cheeks get hot when she pointed to the cupboard.
“It might be wise to have the bucket at the ready. I’ve been so proud that in all the days we’ve been at sea, I haven’t felt nauseous, but apparently, the saying is true. ”
“Pride goeth before a fall?” Ilona returned with the bucket.
“Proverbs 16:18. Well, what it actually says is, ‘Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall,’ although I’ve always thought that lack of pride bit is overrated.
A person has to have a certain amount of pride in themselves, so they’re not inclined to let every ill wind push them off course. ”
Had her knowing gaze held Isla’s a little longer than necessary? Was she so transparent that even the sailors recognized the insecurities she struggled to hide? “It seems you had an excellent education when you served your princess, both theologically and philosophically.”
Ilona rolled her eyes before pointing to the edge of the bed. “May I sit here? If it offends you, I can?—”
“Of course, you may. It’s either that or stand until the storm abates since all the furniture you would otherwise move to the side of my bed seems to be bolted to the floor.”
“The sole.”
“What?”
“We refer to the floor inside a ship’s cabin as the sole.”
Isla had a habit of cocking her head when she was thinking, and she did so now. “From the old English, sola, meaning bottom, or technically, it can also mean floor.” She grinned at Ilona, who sat on the foot of the bed.
Ilona turned so that one knee rested on the mattress while her other foot dangled over the side.
“To answer your question, yes, I attended lessons with the princess, and although my education wasn’t important to the King, I learned right alongside my charge.
And the religion?” The side of her mouth lifted as she shook her head.
“Save me from religious zealots and priests.”
“I take it there are no priests or chaplains on board the Jest?”
Ilona’s laughter came easily. It was robust, reminding Isla of her mother, whose laughter could be heard from anywhere inside Windsong Hall, or outside, for that matter.
As Isla chuckled at her reaction, she realized she didn’t think of Ilona as a lady’s maid.
She was an educated warrior who wasn’t too proud to do whatever needed to be done.