For Love of the Earl (23 page)

In four years, she had never listened to him.
 
She had always assumed the meaning behind his words instead of listening to the meaning of his words.
 
It had only taken a kidnapping and exile on a ship in the middle of the English Channel for her to realize it.
 
Sarah lay back on the bunk, her feet dangling over the side as the ship swayed beneath her.
 
She felt the water getting rougher beneath her and wondered if this was the bad weather they had been expecting.
 
For the briefest of moments, she pictured the ship going down in the stormy waters, of never seeing Alec again.
 
But the pain it brought was swift and unkind, and she quickly pushed the thought away.
 

Alec had been trying to make her laugh.
 

All of those times that she had thought he was being immature, ridiculous and poking fun at her lowly class was not at all true.
 
He was just trying to make her laugh.
 
Why was he so desperate to make her laugh though?
 
She didn't have the answer to that question, and she knew she would not get it if she did not ask her husband outright.
 

She let out an exhale, blowing the strands of hair that had fallen along her forehead up into the air.
 

But first she had to get out of this damn prison.
 
She had to get
them
out of this damn prison.
 

But seeing as how their prison was a ship floating in the middle of a body of water, she did not have the first clue as to how to go about it.
 
She let the water roll beneath her and the ship to carry her up and down.
 

She had finally realized what her husband had been saying to her for four years, and he wasn't here so she could tell him.
 

And that just summed up their entire relationship right there.
 
They never told each other things.
 
Alec did not talk, and Sarah simply yelled at him.
 
They never did any listening.
 

She turned her head in the direction of the door, wondering where the old dark skinned man had come from and how he knew so much.
 
She wondered, too, if she could get him off this ship when the time came.
 
She didn't know his name, but it did not matter.
 
She felt deep down that he was an ally, and when rescue came, because it was going to come, she needed to make sure he came, too.

But as she turned her head back to the boards above her, rescue seemed like a mirage, a glimmer of hope in the distance but nothing solid enough to grab hold of.
 
It was just there, taunting her.
 
Keeping Alec from her.

Sarah stood up and paced.
 
The rocking of the ship made it difficult, but the feelings inside of her kept her from sitting still.
 
She needed action, craved it like a person in the desert craves water.
 
She would simply die if she did not see Alec again and see him again quickly.
 
The ship pitched, and Sarah put out a hand to catch herself.
 
The movement had the floorboards coming precariously close to her face, and Sarah knew the storm was upon them.
 
But as the floorboards swam closer, the light of the lantern swung off the jug the old man had placed on the floor.
 

Sarah watched it, unmoving in the pitching waters.
 
It must be heavy.
 
It must be
very
heavy.

Sarah quickly made her way over to the bunk, cautiously keeping one hand on a wall at all times while her feet slid across the floor.
 
She sat on the bunk and pulled the jug closer to her.
 
It was heavy and solid and-

She hefted it up.
 
She could just lift the bulk with two hands, but she was fairly certain that with enough practice, she could handle it deftly.
 
She swung it back and forth in her hands, moved it from one palm to another.
 
Yes, it was indeed heavy, but as she worked with it, it became less cumbersome.
 

With each move, her confidence grew until she stood, sliding across the room with the jug between the fingers of one hand.
 
She came to rest upon the opposite wall, just beyond the reach of the door should it swing open.
 
She crouched against the wall, the jug resting on a bent knee as she waited.
 
She counted her breaths, inhaling and exhaling as Alec had taught her.
 
He said if she just concentrated on the simplest of things the rest of the world would drop away, and that one thing would become everything.
 
And then she could focus on it, and it would not seem impossible.
 

So she stayed there crouched against the wall as the ship rolled and waited according to the beats of her breath.
 

And then she screamed.
 
She screamed as if there was nothing holding her back.
 
As if the very terrors of childhood nightmares had come to life and stalked her now.
 
She screamed as if it were the only way to see Alec again.
 

The lock in the door began to move almost immediately, but Sarah did not stop screaming.
 
The pitch of the ship was in her favor, and as Harpoon Man's head came into view, the ship dipped suddenly, bringing Sarah ever slightly above the man's head.
 
With all the strength she had left, she lifted the jug and swung.

And even she could marvel at the finesse of the arc she put into it.
 
The jug swung perfectly, hitting Harpoon Man directly on the crown of the head.
 
He fell to his knees, dazed but not defeated.
 
Sarah moved quickly, holding onto the handle of the door to steady her in the rolling room.
 
Raising the jug one more time, Harpoon Man lifted his eyes to her.
 
She looked at him and unflinchingly, dropped the jug once more upon his head.
 

He fell all the way to the floor then, groaning as he held his head in his hands.
 
Sarah backed out of the door.
 

"Sorry about that, mate, but you should never trust a lady."

And with that, she brought the door closed and snapped the lock into place.
 

She stood in the corridor, inhaling drafts of stale, rotten air.
 
She concentrated on her breath again, the jug hanging limply from her fingers at her side.
 
It was a handy little weapon, and as her journey was far from over, she was going to keep it in reach.
 
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, and for a while, it was the only noise she could hear.
 
But again, she concentrated, allowing all else to retreat, until her ears began to pick up the slightest of sounds.
 

But there were no running footsteps.
 

She had expected someone to come running at her screams, but there was no one.
 
The ship rolled again, and Sarah presumed they were all above deck, manning the ship as the storm passed.

She had never been in the belly of a ship such as this before, and she looked to her left and right, hoping divine realization would come to her as to where she should go.
 
But there was nothing but blackness and the occasional scurry of rats.
 
The rats seemed to be going down though, and she thought it likely they knew where the food stores were.
 
So she turned the other way, back in the direction she had thought they had come, and sought out a staircase that would lead her up.

The first room she came upon was filled with hammocks.
 
She peered into the darkness at the ghostly moving shapes, but as she scanned, she determined they were all empty.
 
Everyone was indeed above deck.
 
For the barest of moments, she wondered how bad the storm really was, and if she should properly worry of it.
 
But then she dismissed it.
 
She needed to find Alec.
 
That took precedent over all.

Moving quickly again, she crossed the small room to the corridor beyond and this time, found stairs leading up before her.
 
She moved the jug to her left hand and went to grab the railing when a hand closed on her arm.
 
The scream stuck in her throat as she turned, jug raised to strike.
 
She caught herself at the last moment when she saw the creased visage of the old man.
 

"It will lead you into the lion's den," he said, "You must follow me."
 

And with that he turned and disappeared further along the corridor into the darkness.
 
She didn't know how he knew where he was going, but she followed him, the light disappearing behind them.
 
She thought the walls were closing in on her, and she pushed back at them with all the mental energy she could summon.
 
Faintly, she could make out the shape of the old man shuffling before her.
 
He was a small shape in the darkness, all bent and compact.
 
But his gait was steady, a step and then a slide as he brought his other foot to.
 
And they kept moving.
 

When light began to appear in the distance, Sarah thought it a part of her imagination.
 
But then the light grew stronger, real and sure.
 
The old man stopped in the middle of it, looking up.
 
Sarah came to stand next to him, the jug swinging at her side as she too looked up.
 
There was a hatch here, and the faint light came in around the cracks like a beacon across a gloomy moor.
 

"Is this the only way out?" Sarah asked, looking down at her bent companion.
 

He nodded.
 

"You must climb out.
 
You are capable."

Sarah was glad he had such confidence in her, but it was not her person she worried over.
 
It was how she was going to get him out.
 

"Sir, we must find another way.
 
I need to-"

"You must find your husband and leave this ship.
 
And you must do so now.
 
Go, my lady."
 

The light struck his face at an angle, distorting the already mottled image of the bent man in the darkness.
 
And it was something in his words that convinced Sarah that he was right.
 
She must go.
 
She must find Alec.
 

"I will come back for you," she whispered, but the man did not say anything.
 

Sarah set down the jug and reached up, finding the latch on the door.
 
She turned it and pushed up.
 
The force of the wind that struck her knocked her back, and she had to let the door close so she could steady herself.
 
It was a magnificent storm indeed, and she was about to throw herself into it to find the man she loved.
 
She looked once more at the old man.
 

"Thank you," she said.
 

And he nodded.
 

"The captain's quarters are at the rear of the ship, my lady.
 
I bid you God speed."
 

He turned and disappeared into the darkness.
 

Sarah lifted the latch once more, and this time she was prepared when the wind struck her.
 

~

It was when he heard cannon fire that he thought he was going mad sitting in the torturous wooden chair in the captain's putrid quarters.
 
But it was when he heard the second boom that he
knew
he was.
 
He made it to the bank of windows along the far wall in four strides, but it did him little good.
 
The storm was upon them now, and the blanket of clouds squelched what little moon there was.
 
He kept his feet planted and his arms braced against the walls as the ship pitched beneath him, but he heard nothing more.
 
Thinking he was indeed going mad, he made his way back to the wooden chair, his journey more difficult as no compulsion drove him forward.

Until the third boom of cannon fire.
 

He wheeled around in the direction of the windows so quickly, he nearly fell into the overflowing chamberpot.
 
He righted himself just as the door to the captain's chambers opened.
 
He stayed where he was as two men moved into the room.
 
Alec stiffened at the sight of them.
 
These were not the hired mercenaries with harpoons.
 
These men looked like trained soldiers of the French navy.
 
Their clothing, although stained and wrinkled, was not torn and appeared rather fine.
 
Their bearing indicated they were military men, drilled in the art of physical mechanics.
 

And they carried guns instead of harpoons.

Big ones.

Something was wrong.
 

The first thing his mind stopped on was Sarah.
 
She was alone in the berth below decks, and he needed to get to her.
 
He eyed the men before him and knew that if he did not come up with a plan quickly, he would be out of time.
 
Sarah could get hurt.
 
Sarah could get killed even.
 
His mind raced past that thought as quickly as it had come to it as if even the very mental image of it scared him beyond sensibility.