Page 29 of Pride of Duty
He also wondered what vile game she played at with Willa. After warning his wife repeatedly to beware of being alone with the woman, he’d found the two of them together on the upper deck that day. He wanted to trust Willa’s judgment, but he knew she was no match for the wiles of a seasoned, lethal spy like Ariadne.
Ariadne had insisted Willa sit next to her at the captain’s side. Cullen sat next to First Lieutenant Dalton, near the foot of the table. The hapless Duvall sat across the captain’s table and picked listlessly at his fish. His face was a similar hue to that of the white fish.
The officer leaned close to Cullen’s ear. “I say, Mrs. MacCloud looks the very image of her brother, Will, in this light. Don’t you think?”
“Of course, there’d be a family resemblance. They’re twins.” Cullen gripped the bench till his knuckles ached and nearly bit through his tongue in an effort to remain quiet and not slam the man against the nearest bulkhead. The captain’s hastily concocted story to the crew to explain Wills’s departure and the arrival of the newlywed Willa was hardly the most original of ideas, but it would have to do until he no longer had to serve on this godforsaken ship.
The man said nothing in reply, but his crooked smile conveyed all that Cullen feared. The officers’ mess was a hotbed of shipboard gossip, and he and Willa apparently were the current targets. As for the rest of the crew, no matter the gossip, they would not dare speak out against the surgeon, a warrant officer. And, of course, those who had been fond of Wills, like Poppy, probably suspected the truth, but would not publicly betray her out of loyalty.
When Cullen tried to steal a furtive look at his wife, she startled him with a direct stare that bored like a hot spike through his throat. He could neither speak nor breathe for a few of the longest seconds of his life.
Fortunately, the she-devil Ariadne leaned away from Willa, displaying her ample bosom to the unwary captain. She was intent on bigger fish for the moment, leaving his wife alone. The brief smile Willa flashed his way was full of unspoken meaning, as in “we know something the rest of the world does not.” It was as if they shared a secret jest. Maybe he hadn’t given her enough credit. She knew exactly the game his former lover played.
When Lieutenant Dalton jabbed at his side with an elbow, Cullen whirled in annoyance.
“What do you think? Is she or isn’t she?”
“Is she what?” Cullen’s voice came out sharper than he intended.
“You know, a spy. Is she a spy?”
“Christ-how would I know?” Cullen was on the verge of dragging the idiot outside and thrashing him.
“Weren’t you two, you know?”
“No, I don’t know, and neither do you.” Cullen forced himself to calm his breathing. “My advice is if you don’t ‘know’ something, you should cease discussion. And as this ship’s surgeon, I can assure you this particular discussion could be dangerous to your health.” The officer’s face blanched, and he turned abruptly away.
When the cook’s mate finally delivered the pudding and a tray of fruit, Cullen was so relieved, his shoulders sagged. When he hazarded a glance toward where his wife had sat, she was gone. His heart went from double-time beats of terror back to a steady calm in the long moments it took to realize Ariadne still plied the captain with her wiles. He filled his dessert plate with a slice of apricot torte and a wedge of Stilton cheese and wondered what the hell Willa was up to now.
Willa carefully lit the candle in the lantern outside their cabin door before slipping inside. She had work to do before Cullen returned. She pulled the blanket from the taut rope that had divided their cabin for weeks, folded it, and stowed it inside her sea chest, along with the rope.
And then she sat on Cullen’s bunk to wait. She waited for her husband to help her out of her one good gown, her wedding dress in fact, she’d worn to the captain’s dinner. The underpinnings necessary for the gown to fit correctly were beyond her ability to get in and out of on her own.
On the one hand, the indignities she had to endure in her current incarnation as a woman threatened to overwhelm her at times. On the other, however, her fickle body hummed in anticipation of finally becoming Cullen’s wife in truth. Most of all, she yearned to spend an entire night encircled in his arms.
Cullen forced himself to take measured steps across the middle deck on his way back to their shared cabin. He had no idea why his wife had slipped away early from the captain’s festive dinner. If Ariadne had said something to upset Willa…he didn’t know what he’d do if the French bitch had dared to hurt or upset her.
He walked past hammocks hanging full of crew not presently on duty and tried to ignore the murmurs coming from several with double occupants. When he rounded a corner in the small passageway, he saw the lantern glowing outside their cabin. He let go of the breath he’d been holding. She was safe inside.
For some reason, instead of barging inside, he gave a slight tap on the door until he heard her voice inside. “Come,” she said. As soon as he opened the door, he noticed something was missing.
“You took down the wall,” he said, his voice inflecting more of a question than a statement. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. Unless you’re going to give me some reason to doubt you, come help me out of this dress.”
“You’re not worried about the time of the month? If you tell me you’re ready to ‘get it over with,’ I’m going back to the top deck to walk until you fall asleep.”
“No, you stubborn man. It’s time we were married in truth. And, besides, you said you knew how to prevent conception.” She moved close to him and pulled down his head for a kiss. He deepened the kiss and moved his hands down the back of her gown, his fingers feeling numb, as if they weren’t attached to his hands, while he fumbled with the tiny loops and silk-corded buttons.
Once the dress fell in folds to the floor, he tackled the contraption women shackled themselves into in order to create the figure they presented to the outside world. Personally, he preferred the warm woman flesh inside. And he selfishly hoped whenever they left the service, he would still be the one to help Willa out of her clothes.
When he turned her in his arms to unwrap the stays and cloth binding her breasts, he stopped short as if stung by a wasp. The expression on Willa’s face captured in the small mirror he’d attached on the bulkhead above their wash basin revealed the truth. She didn’t realize he could see what was there-not quite pain, not quite resignation.
Cullen squeezed her shoulders. “You miss the freedom of passing for a man, don’t you, my love?”
She turned without a word and buried her face onto his shoulder.
“Shush.” His stubborn wife refused to cry, choosing simply to hide her feelings from him. After peeling off her thin shift and cotton stockings, he gathered her into his arms and laid her carefully on his bunk. He pulled off his boots and shed his own clothes in a clumsy rush before joining her and curving his body behind hers beneath the blanket. Cullen stared into the darkness for long minutes, afraid to move and shatter the fragile bond beginning to form between them. The feel of her skin against his was like silk against leather, the delicate weight of her bones like the coiled strength of a Highland fox.