Page 52 of Pride of Duty

After a long silence, a low voice from the other side admitted, “The pain - it never ends.”

“Where?”

“My stomach.”

“Which side is the pain worse?”

After a long pause, the voice resumed. “On the right.”

“High or low?”

Another pause. “About the middle.”

“I can’t tell you anything without at least seeing where you’re pointing for pain.”

“What would be your guess, Dr. MacCloud?”

Cullen jerked at the mention of his name and then automatically suggested what he would for any patient with unexplained stomach pain. “There’s always bleeding, a bland diet, perhaps a tonic, or calomel for purges, and of course, laudanum for pain.”

The voice on the other side of the screen turned abrupt and dismissive. “That is quite enough. You do not seem to have any more knowledge than all of the other know-nothing physicians who have seen me over the years.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I wish you well.”

And that was the end of the strangest patient conversation Cullen had ever had.

He shook his head hard and headed out the door behind the young man who had summoned him.

Outside, Cullen accepted the loan of a mule to transport him down to the harbor as quickly as possible. The animal could be returned by the next visitor to Longwood. All he wanted now was to return to his own surgery and his beautiful, maddening, unpredictable wife, who by now would be waiting with their things aboard the shore boat with a group of His Majesty’s Royal Marines. Thank God.

Willa’s stubborn husband leaned against the bunk in their cabin that had once again become the place where they shared the nightly dialogue that had gone on for months. She knew every plane, every bumpy surface on his body. In the dark of the tiny space they’d shared, she’d gone over the rough chart of his face with her fingers more times than she could recall. She kissed those lips and greedily sucked in his warmth. But she still did not have a map of the uncharted depths that lay behind his thick skull.

Cullen broke the extended silence. “Now what is going on behind those sinful gray eyes, lass? Today, they look like the foam that crashes over rocks near the shore. Just waiting to take down an unwise sod like me who doesn’t care if he gets dragged under and sucked back out to sea.

“You know what I want.” Willa crossed her arms beneath her breasts and hugged her middle.

Cullen said nothing, but pulled her into his arms and held her so tightly, she stopped breathing for a moment. And then he was gone.

After the temporary door slammed shut and the canvas walls shuddered and flapped in his wake, she grabbed the nearest solid item to hand - her journal - and hurled it to the deck floor.

She would get to the truth of what they had to fear from Ariadne’s hatred and spite if she had to extract the details from someone who knew. She couldn’t be sure, but she could not imagine Captain Still accepting a physician to replace her father without knowing everything about him. If the captain refused to tell her what lay behind the allegations hanging over Cullen’s head, she would leave the ship once they returned to Portsmouth and throw herself on the mercy of her husband’s kinsmen in the far north Highlands.

The marine guarding Captain Still’s door on the morning watch was Sergeant Claridge. He rapped a knuckle against the door and then opened it just as Willa sailed through. He kept his face blank of expression, but she noted a nervous flicker in his eyes when she stormed past him.

Captain Still sat at his desk and was in the act of pouring a cup of steaming tea from a silver pot. When she stood before him, blinking back tears, he pointed toward the chair opposite him. “Sit, Willa. Tell me what’s troubling you, child.”

His servant passed the cup to Willa, along with a small plate of biscuits. The captain had remembered how she liked her tea, and the cup contained a healthy dollop of cream.

He waved Jenkins away and leaned back in his chair, waiting.

“Why did you not tell me what you knew about Dr. MacCloud’s past when I came to you with the locket?”

“You didn’t ask.”

She took a long sip of the bracing, hot tea. “I’m asking now.”

“All of the officers and men on our ships at the Bombardment of Algiers acquitted themselves valiantly. Many were commended and promoted. Our surgeons performed especially above and beyond the Admiralty’s expectations. The fleet overall lost nearly two hundred dead and seven hundred twenty-six wounded.”

“But what possible reason would Dr. MacCloud have for abandoning his station aboard ship in the days before the battle?” Willa set down her cup and leaned forward, clenching her hands together.