Fateful (16 page)

“Astor’s all right, so long as you don’t cross him. But generally the group is . . . a bunch of stuffed shirts.”

Her face clouds, and for the first time, Myriam’s knowledge of English has hit its limits. “Stuffed shirts?”

“You know,” I say. “Stuffed up so tightly they can’t move.” Alec impersonates this, puffing out his chest like some brandy-soaked cigar smoker in the lounge, and both Myriam and I laugh. She gives me a look like,
Well, he’s not so bad
.

Just then, a figure appears on the deck, looking about madly. I’m shocked to recognize him. “Ned?”

“There you are. Whatever did you do to Lady Regina? She’s mad as a wet hen.” Then Ned notices Alec standing there; though he’s not met Alec before, he can see at once that he’s a gentleman. “Beg your pardon, sir. Not meaning to interrupt.”

“I’m the one who’s angered Lady Regina,” Alec says, which is a rather generous interpretation of events. “You’ll be all right, though, won’t you, Tess?”

He says it with a surety that reminds me how soon I will leave the Lisles’ service. Why do I let her scare me so much now, when her power over me is ending? I take a deep breath. “Yes. I’m all right. Did she send you down here after me, Ned? Oh, excuse me—Myriam, Alec, this is Ned Thompson, valet to Layton Lisle and my good friend. Ned, this is Myriam, my bunkmate, and Alec, who is . . . not a valet and yet also my good friend.”

“Nice to meet you both.” Ned’s gone all stiff. “No, she’s just in a temper—I mean, her Ladyship expressed her displeasure.”

“Don’t be proper,” Myriam says. “Alec’s no stuffed shirt.” Alec mouths the words
Very good!
at her, and she smiles. Though she approves of few people, Alec clearly passes muster.

“It’s all right, really, Ned,” I say. “If I need to go up there and be shouted at some more, tell me now.”

Ned looks from me to Alec a couple of times, still unsure, then relaxes and becomes himself again. “Mad as a wet hen, like I said. It would be funny to watch, if she hadn’t thrown her shoes. Hard to laugh when you have to duck.”

I can’t help giggling. “Tell me she hit Horne.”

“Near as a touch! I wouldn’t go up there for anything, if I were you. Leave it till tomorrow; it’ll be bad enough then.” Ned takes a seat on the bench with us. “I’ve got an hour or so to myself, thought I’d check in on you. Layton took himself off with that Russian count friend of his.”

Alec and I share a look. His hand briefly touches my arm, warding off the fear I should feel at the very thought of Mikhail.

I will hurt someone you love.

“What about you, Ned?” Alec says. “Will you leave service when you reach America? I imagine you’d be glad to see the last of the Lisles.”

Alarm pierces me. I haven’t told Ned yet; I know I should, but I don’t want him to have to hide it any longer than necessary. Ned doesn’t catch the meaning behind Alec’s question, though—just thinks it’s a bit odd. “I expect to stay in service all my life, sir—I mean, Alec. Not with the Lisles, though. I’ve got my reasons for remaining with them a while yet, but when the time comes, I’ll find myself a better household. One with fewer flying shoes, at any rate.”

“Forever, Ned?” I ask. That makes me sad. “You couldn’t ever have your own house, or get married.”

“I don’t expect to get married,” Ned replies.

Myriam folds her arms; the sea breeze makes her dark hair stream out behind her, vivid against the bright sky. “You want to have love affairs by the dozen?”

This is where Ned would usually launch into one of his jokes, but he’s oddly serious now. “The way I see it, men and women oughtn’t to get married just because. You should marry when you’re really truly in love, forever. When you’ve found the one girl you’d most want in the whole world. If you haven’t got that, then best not to marry at all, I think.”

“Perhaps you will find love yet,” Myriam says, more gently.

Ned simply shakes his head. He casts a sidelong glance at Alec, uncertain no longer. “And what brings you down here? Get tired of all the caviar and brandy upstairs? Must get old.”

“I came for the company,” Alec says. His eyes meet mine, and I feel almost shy.

“It’s like that, is it?” God bless Ned, he doesn’t try to shoo Alec off or tell me I should know better. “Well, in for a penny, in for a pound—do you want to have tea down here? It’s not as good as what you’re used to, but honestly, it’s not half bad. And sometimes people play the piano.”

Would there be another impromptu dance? I like the thought of dancing with Alec.

His face falls, and I remember. I look at the sky, which is already slightly dimmer than before. Sunset is coming.

“We have to go,” I say. “I’ll be back directly, though.”

“Nice to meet you both.” Alec’s voice is tight, but his smile is genuine. “Guard the prisoner, will you?” He points, and Myriam frowns in consternation to see the dolly beneath the bench. I realize that he truly likes both Myriam and Ned. It’s so odd to think that these people I’ve come to know—the ones society puts in three different boxes—might all be friends if things were just a bit different.

And if Alec weren’t cursed by a werewolf’s bite.

Myriam and Ned say their good-byes as we head back within the ship. Happily we can remain on F deck. Alec’s face betrays only a shade of the strain he must be feeling, but I can see it, now that I’m looking for it. Once we’re in the hallway, again alone, he says, “I stayed longer than I should have.”

When our eyes meet, I know why he stayed, and I feel that knowledge quiver down deep inside.

Together we walk back the way we came—from third class to first class, from laughter and sunshine to what he endures at night. I’ve thought about it ever since I learned his secret, but now I dare to ask him more. “Does it hurt?” I say quietly, as we go side by side through the corridors.

“Like being ripped apart.” Alec is so matter-of-fact as he says this. It makes me shiver. “But I can’t think about it much after I’m changed. So it’s blurry.”

“What do you mean, you can’t think about it?”

“When I’m a wolf, my mind—it’s not the same. As a human, I can’t remember it very well.” Of course; he was even surprised to see me yesterday morning in the Turkish bath. “I’m not sure how much humanity is in me then. If there’s any humanity left.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Don’t deny what I am.” His voice is sharper, edged with what I think is anger—but that’s not it. The sun is near setting. The wolf is closer to the surface.

It frightens me to see the change in him. Yet it thrills me too.

Alec continues, more quietly, “Changing back hurts less—it feels like going back to the way things should be, at least—but that, I have to remember. Every second of it.”

He stretches his back, rolls his shoulders. His movements grow freer, less confined. He’s even walking faster, and I have to hurry to keep up. I don’t mind it. Something in me wants to break into a run so that he will run with me. I want this mad energy between us released.

With my key, we slip through the door to first class and go toward the Turkish baths. Once again, they are closed for the evening, but Alec can let himself in. “How did you get the key to the bath?” I ask.

He shrugs. “My father requested it. They don’t deny the first-class passengers many privileges. All you have to do is ask.”

That’s how I got my key too, thanks to the Lisles’ eminent name. “Must be nice.”

“It is in this case, anyway.”

I glance around, remembering how we were brought together here the first time. “Mikhail wouldn’t—”

“He left me alone here last night,” Alec says. The hall lighting reddens his hair, deepens the shadows on his face. His breathing is more shallow now. Almost ragged. “He hasn’t bothered you again, has he?”

“Just to scare me.” I should have told Alec about the note, perhaps, but in the light of day, I feel sure it was meant to scare me, to haunt me. It couldn’t be a real threat. “As long as he believes I’m too scared to betray him to the Lisles, I think—I think I’m all right.”

“But you won’t be alone.” Alec’s hands close around my arms, bringing me closer to him. His voice is rough, his eyes intense. “Promise me, Tess.”

“I promise.”

We are only inches apart. He whispers, “With you—with you I feel almost human again.” Slowly Alec leans toward me, and I close my eyes.

When his mouth closes over mine, the kiss isn’t gentle. He’s almost desperate, the way he clutches me to him, the way he devours me.
The wolf
, I think.
The wolf in him is close to the surface, so close.

But then why am I kissing him back just as desperately?

When our lips part, I’m trembling all over, and his breath is shaky. “You have to go,” he says.

“I know.” But we don’t let go of each other at first.

“Please, Tess.” Alec pleads with me to have the strength of will that is failing him. “I won’t be myself much longer.”

I remember the red wolf—the terror I felt two nights ago—and while I cannot recapture that fear, just bringing it to mind gets me to step back. His grip on my arms breaks, and he makes a small, frustrated sound. We both want so much more.

“I’m going.”

“All right.” Alec pushes open the door, releasing soft clouds of steam. “I know that—for your own good—I shouldn’t see you again. But I can’t stand the thought of not seeing you again.”

“I’ll be with the Lisles the rest of the trip.” My voice sounds very small.

He closes his eyes, struggling against something. “Damn it, damn it, give me another five minutes.” He’s talking to the wolf, which will not listen.

Alec’s hand is sinew-tense against my cheek as he pulls me close and kisses me again, this time only for a single hungry instant. Then he walks into the bath, letting the door swing shut behind him. His only farewell is the clicking of the lock.

Half in a daze, I wander back into third class. I don’t know whether to feel elated or devastated. All I can think about is the taste of Alec’s kiss on my lips.

As I hug myself, I realize that his jacket is still draped over my shoulders. I could just give it to a steward to deliver to the Marlowe family suite. Maybe that’s what I should do. But it’s an excuse to see Alec again, if I want an excuse.

And I do.

I slip the jacket on over my dress. He is so broad-shouldered and muscular that his coat drapes easily around me, tall though I am. It feels like a trophy. Proud, still giddy from his kiss, I lift the collar so that I can breathe in the scent of Alec’s skin. Then I tuck my hands into the pockets, so I can feel the warmth of his hands and remember them touching me.

In one pocket, I feel a crumpling of paper.

I pull it out to see a collector’s tourist card with a bit of newsprint wrapped around it. Curiosity makes me look at the card, to see what Alec finds interesting—but when I see, my heart drops.

There, in silvery tones, is a picture postcard of a beautiful woman, clearly costumed for some sort of ballet or opera in Oriental-style dress. Her figure is perfect; her profile is as delicately sculpted as one of the Greek marbles in Moorcliffe’s garden temple. The white lettering at the bottom proclaims this to be Gabrielle Dumont.

The actress from Paris. The same one Lady Regina gossiped about as being Alec’s possible lover.

Lady Regina claimed that their romance had “ended badly,” but he still carries her picture with him every day. Does that mean he’s still in love with her? But if Alec is in love with this woman, how could he kiss me like that?

And he acted so guilty about breaking her heart.

The crumpled newsprint falls from my fingers, swaying slowly downward; I catch it before it hits the ground. I don’t know what I expect it to say, but I know I don’t expect this.

It’s from the
Times
. It reports on the shocking death of the celebrated actress Gabrielle Dumont two weeks ago in Paris.

The most shocking detail is how she died. She was “torn to death by a pack of dogs,” on the street outside her home, though she lived in the heart of Paris. Nobody saw the attack, but nobody could mistake the signs of what had happened to her.

Torn to death by a pack of dogs.

Or by a wolf.

Alec said he had to leave Paris in a hurry. He said he has to live in the woods, far away from any human contact, from now on. He carries a burden of guilt inside him that can well up and take him over at any moment. Only now do I realize why.

He murdered Gabrielle.

Chapter 14

“YOU SURE YOU’RE ALL RIGHT?” NED SAYS THROUGH a mouthful of chicken.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine. You sound like a dead woman walking.”

“And what would that sound like?” Myriam demands. “You wouldn’t know.”

“All right, all right, don’t bite my head off.”

The hubbub of the third-class dining hall almost drowns her out. Or is it just me? The world beyond my own skin seems so far away.

The newspaper clipping and tourist card are still in the coat pocket; Alec’s coat remains on my back. It still feels like his arms around me, but it doesn’t feel like an embrace any longer. It feels imprisoning.

Torn apart by wild dogs.

The red wolf and the black, ripping each other apart in their eagerness to get at me.

As a group in the back begins singing “Shine On, Harvest Moon,” for their amusement more than for ours, Ned frowns and tries again. He means well but simply does not know when to stop. “Worrying about Lady Regina? She’ll be a bear in the morning, but honestly, how much worse can she actually get? You’ll hold up fine. Always do.”

“I’m not worried about Lady Regina.” I’d never have imagined what would have to happen for her to be the least of my problems.

Ned asks, “You seasick, maybe?”

“Maybe that’s it.” I would agree to anything if it will make Ned stop asking me questions. I know he means well, but I want to wall myself up in my own mind and try to come to terms with what I’ve just learned.

Myriam begins asking Ned about life in service, and I laugh on cue at his best anecdotes about Layton’s drunken exploits, but I’m not paying attention. She isn’t either, really; she’s just distracting Ned for me. I can feel her watchful eyes on me throughout the meal.