Aching for Always (29 page)

“Does he know you know it was him?”

“I don't think so. He didn't see that I'd spotted the cap.”

“Bloody bastard. Though there's no denying this is the proof we needed. He is—was—in league with Brand. He has the map. I say we go to his house, use whatever means necessary to convince him to surrender it, then leave
him with you for the happy prospect of avenging your brother. The people who profited from that map will pay dearly for their greed.”

Hugh winced. Fiona had a way of opening that wound as if she were wielding a cutlass. The shock of discovering Joss was Maggie Brand's daughter had left Hugh fighting a storm of conflicting feelings. He resented Joss's wealth as much as Fiona. Bart's income had been reduced to a tenth of what it had been after he took the clerk position and made a home for Hugh, Maggie and little Jo. But even that situation had been far better than the one following Bart's murder, when Hugh was sent to live with a cousin who had immediately apprenticed him to a blacksmith in a distant village to fend for himself. It was there, in the inferno of his employment, Hugh had hammered out plans to avenge Bart's death, and it had taken him twenty long years of arduous work to bring them to fruition.

So, aye, the courtly display of wealth at that party, the business empire, the fine clothes, the sense of entitlement that radiated from Joss like subtle perfume, grated on him. And, of course, that bloody diamond she wore was like a lightning rod for his resentment as well as for another emotion he was just discovering could be as potent.

The conundrum Joss presented was a hard one. He couldn't avenge himself on her father. And as a man who had loved Maggie Brand as a mother, Hugh could neither avenge himself on Maggie's daughter nor on the man Maggie's daughter believed would bring her happiness. If he believed for an instant Reynolds would hurt her, he wouldn't hesitate to destroy him. But he did not believe
Reynolds would. So now Hugh would have to sit back and allow the man who held Brand's nefarious secret—and who had just shown he was willing to kill to protect it—to possess the woman Hugh desired.

The anger that had been simmering in him for so long would explode soon in this infernal crucible. But who would be burned?

“No,” Hugh said. “We will find the map and return it to the past so that we may reverse what's been done, but we won't lay a finger on Reynolds.”

“What?”

“I shan't touch him, nor shall you.”

Her cat eyes glowed with fire. “Did you know he's having a special security system put in? Did you know that he's already begun to turn the capital in Brand's company into untold riches for himself?” Her voice grew louder. “Did you know that an attendant who was with Brand as he lay dying said she overheard Brand and Reynolds talking and that Brand mentioned a ‘sea captain' and that he called for a curate before he died, no doubt to ask for forgiveness for the sin of murdering your brother?”

Hugh felt like he'd been slapped, and it must have shown on his face.

“That's right,” she said. “While you've been trotting around after the girl like some sort of pathetic lapdog, I have been gathering information. Reynolds knows, Hugh! He knows everything!”

Hugh's fingers ached with the desire to strangle the blackguard. His fingers ached and his heart suffered.

“When did he know? When was this supposed deathbed confession?”

“In September.”

When had Joss and Reynolds fallen in love? Was it possible Reynolds had purposefully seduced her after he'd discovered her father's secret? It was all he could do to keep from ordering Fiona out of the room and calling for Joss immediately.

“Listen to me. Joss is ignorant of her father's wrongdoings. I will not allow her to be hurt in any way.”

“I'm not asking you to hurt Joss,” Fiona spat. “I'm asking you to do your duty.”

“
I
will determine my duty,” he said hotly. “Joss is innocent, and she loves Reynolds. I will not destroy her in that way.”

Nathaniel appeared in the doorway with eyebrows raised, and Hugh knew he had overheard. Fiona jumped to her feet. “You're a fool,” she said to Hugh, and pushed past him into the passageway.

“Perhaps. Do not say a word to her about Reynolds. If you do, our quest here will be over. The ship will return to England immediately, with you on it.”

“I hope you do not live to regret this.” She banged the door as she left.

Hugh didn't know which would be worse: living to see Reynolds hurt Joss or living to see him love her.

“Nathaniel,” he said, “find the girl. Bring her here.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-NINE
 

Joss finally found Roark on the lowest deck of the ship, examining a pile of chains with links the size of her bathroom mirror. “There you are,” she said.

Roark snapped upright, banging his head on the low ceiling. “How can I help you, Miss O'Malley?”

“I need to be transported to the islet. I was told to speak to you.” She was peering down at him from several steps up in order to avoid the water sloshing back and forth across the floor. She had fulfilled her obligations here. The adventure, as it were, was over. She'd abandoned her business, her fiancé and her friend. She probably needed the time-travel equivalent of a Concorde flight to a confessional booth, but she'd settle for a bumpy Royal Mail drop-off next to some garbage cans in Pittsburgh.
I bring the
antibiotics and Fiona gets to do the bedside hand-holding?
It hadn't exactly been the fairy-tale ending she'd imagined, and she could feel her pique like an angry wasp buzzing inside her head.

“Aye, well, it cannot be attempted at present,” Roark said, rubbing his head. “Perhaps tomorrow, when the conditions will be more favorable.”

“What conditions?”

“Unfavorable ones.”

“Such as?” The sea for once was calm.

He chewed his lip. “The gears on the taffrail have broken. 'Tis a most pressing situation.”

“Oh.” Gears on the taffrail? “Is that why you're down here?”

“Aye.”

“Will it take long to fix? I mean, they are fixable, right?” The thought of spending a week on board this tub with Hugh and Fiona playing bedroom hide-and-seek every night was not appetizing.

“They are fixable, but as always in these matters, the timing is uncertain.”

“I see. Well, please let me know.”

Roark, who hadn't bumped his head since his first month at sea, bowed, checked his crown for blood and wished the captain could settle his romantic problems on his own.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
 

Joss crested the stairs onto the floor she now referred to as the Lido deck and made her way to her room.

When she stepped inside, Fiona shoved her into the wall.

“Where's my map?”

Joss shoved her back, hard enough to knock her into the desk. “Back off, sister. I can take your ratty-ass butt.” She doubted she could, but she'd heard Di's son Peter say the line while playing Transformers and she'd been dying to use it ever since.

“Hugh could be dead because of you.”

“Apparently, you haven't checked Google News lately. He's
alive
because of me.”

“You and your precious fiancé.”

Joss narrowed her eyes. “What
about
my fiancé?”

Something flickered behind those green eyes. “Nothing. Marry him. He'll be just like your father.”

“You don't know my father.”

“You are mistook, my friend. I know your father. One may know a man by the deeds he's done.”

Joss had just about had it up to her eyeballs with the obtuse accusations and far less obtuse resentment. “What could he have possibly done to you?”

The fury glowed in Fiona's eyes like fire pits in hell. “Ask Hugh. If you dare.”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-ONE
 

Joss nearly bowled over Nathaniel at the top of the stairs.

“Miss O'Malley.” He beamed. “What a happy coincidence. I was just looking for you.”

“Were you?”

“You are needed down below,” he said. “Captain's orders, m'um.”

“The captain's
orders
?” Perhaps a lifetime of wealth had affected her more than she cared to admit, but she did not appear on command.

Nathaniel shifted under her glare. “Aye.”

“And if I refuse?”

Two sailors fixing holes on a spread of canvas beyond the landing stopped their work and looked up. Nathaniel, who had clearly never confronted such a possibility before, moved his lips wordlessly.

“Would I be thrown in the brig?” she asked.

“I-I cannot recommend refusing.”

She flashed a look at the sailors, who immediately returned to their work. “Tell me, Nathaniel, when will the gears be repaired?”

“The gears, m'um?”

“On the taffrail?”

One of the sailors broke into a laugh.

“Two days without grog,” Nathaniel barked in the man's direction, and added more patiently to Joss, “I am most sorry to report that taffrails lack gears of any sort, Miss O'Malley.”

“No gears?”

“None. They are, well, the railings that surround the stern. Wood,” he added, unnecessarily.

“I see.” She felt her ears begin a slow burn. “Then perhaps the captain will be good enough to explain why Mr. Roark cites the state of the gears as the reason for keeping me from making my way to the islet.”

“I feel certain he will find that most fulfilling,” Nathaniel said, and breathed a loud sigh of relief as she clattered downstairs.

When she opened the sickroom door, Hugh was trying in vain to pull his twenty-first-century shirt over his bound arm. Pique deferred momentarily to horror. “What in God's name are you doing out of bed? You can barely stand!”

“I'm fine,” he said, though sweat trickled freely down his temples. “I'm glad you're here. I need to speak to you. 'Tis a matter of some importance.” He fought to get his shirt inside his trousers. She noticed his clothes had been brushed and pressed.

“Get back into bed. I insist.”

“Ah, if I had a crown for every time a woman's said that to me. I need your help.”

“And if I had a crown for every time you've said that . . . Is that why I've been summoned?”

He frowned for an instant. “What? Oh. No, I read the letter you left. Why didn't you tell me in the map room there was a map missing?”

“I didn't think it was relevant at the time. For the record, I do not respond to orders.”

He stopped his awkward one-handed buttoning to give her an amused smile. “And yet, here you are.”

Grrrrrrr.
“I am not here because of your order. I do not respond to orders—yours or anyone else's.”

“'Tis hardly worth an unhappy word between us, I assure you, but everyone on this ship obeys my orders, you included. Should you care to test the proposition, I would be happy to oblige.”