Book Three
By
Candace Osmond
Copyright © 2018 Candace Osmond
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-1-988159-53-9
First Edition
Digital Version
Cover Design by Majeau Designs
The characters, places, and events portrayed in this book are completely fiction and are in no way meant to represent real people or places. Although the province of Newfoundland is an existing location, the use of it in the book is for fictional purposes and not meant to depict true historical accuracy.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
About the Author
Chapter One
Nearly three months at sea with your best friend and a crew of burly pirates sounds like an adventure until you’re secretly fearing for your life in the dead of night. I wrapped my red coat tightly around my shift, blocking out the chilly night air as I stood on the deck above the stern.
I leaned against the thick wooden railing as I peered down at the mesmerizing midnight sea below and watched the dark tones of jade crash together while my ship trailed along on our never-ending journey to England. I found myself in that same spot, night after night, worried for… everything. My crew, my mother, the child growing inside of me.
And Henry’s sanity.
I led us on this potentially doomed mission and my friends followed blindly. Now I laid awake every night, obsessing over everything that could go wrong. Who was I to lead a crew of pirates? Who was I to think she could sail across the ocean and take down the most ruthless woman to ever exist? I knew very little of this era aside from what I’d been exposed to and I often found myself making decisions on the fly. Like saving Henry from Kelly’s Island. I’d replayed the whole thing in my mind a million times and entertained all the many ways it could have gone so horribly wrong.
I was lucky, at best, and I worried when that luck would begin to run out.
“I thought I’d find you up here,” spoke a voice from over my shoulder.
I turned to find Lottie and smiled. Our three months at sea brought us closer together and our friendship had grown into something I took comfort in. “Yeah, couldn’t sleep.”
“Again?” She sidled up next to me and rested her forearms on the railing. “You may be able to evade sleep,” she reached over and placed her palm against my slightly curved belly, “but that baby cannot. Go to bed, Dianna.”
“Why are you up?” I asked, dodging her demand.
She shrugged. “I worry about you. Ever since–”
“Don’t,” I told her and mindlessly reached up to touch my fingers to my throat, the skin still tender from the remnants of bruising I hid with a scarf. “Forget I told you about that.”
She opened her mouth to protest but I shot my friend a look that said it was over. Lottie then sighed and looked up at the twinkling stars above us. “Augustus is worried about Henry.”
“Why? What did you tell him?”
I caught a slight roll of her eyes. “Nothing. You know I’d never speak a word of sworn secrecy, Dianna.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry,” I replied, immediately regretting my words. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that.” I inhaled deeply. “I’m just becoming stir crazy.”
“Finn says we should be there soon.”
“God, I hope so.” I folded my arms tightly across my torso and gazed up with her. “I love the sea. But I’m ready to step foot on some land for a while.”
“I would sell my soul for a warm bath,” she spoke dreamily.
I found myself laughing, something I hadn’t done in a while. Not sincerely, anyway. “And a fresh pot roast.”
We sat on a wooden crate and listed the many things we’d delight in once we made landfall. Clean clothes, a long bath, a comfy bed, favorite foods. The list went on until the faint orange-red glow of the rising sun began to seep through the low clouds on the horizon. My signal to head back to my quarters. Where Henry slept, unaware of where I spent most of my nights. Lottie and I parted ways and I turned the old brass knob to my room, careful to be as quiet as possible.
But it didn’t matter.
“Up early again, I see,” he spoke solemnly. I turned to find him standing at the window, gazing out at the same ocean I’d been staring at earlier. He spun slowly and met my eyes, his full of regret and pain. I looked away, as I often did. Ignoring it.
“Lottie couldn’t sleep,” I lied and went straight to my bed.
“Oh?” Henry mused and walked toward where I sprawled out across the blankets.
His large frame cast a shadow over my body and a chill crept up my spine. He then kneeled next to the bed, allowing the morning sun to shine over his shoulders and warm my face as he placed a careful hand on my growing belly.
“Is she alright?”
“Yes,” I continued to fib. My white lies were beginning to pile up, and I feared when they’d turn black. “Just restless. Eager to get off the ship.”
He nodded mindlessly. “Yes, as we all are.” His wide hand fanned over the slightly curved shape of my stomach and the hint of a smile found its way to his lips. “How is baby today?”
The life growing inside of me had become the only topic we could comfortably talk about. Something we both shared and loved fiercely.
“Quiet,” I told him and mirrored the tiny smile. “We should probably think of a name, something besides baby.”
His brow furrowed. “But we don’t know whether it’s a boy or a girl.”
“We could pick a gender-neutral name,” I suggested.
Henry’s face warped in confusion. “Gender-neutral?”
“Uh, yeah, sorry.” I laughed. “That’s a term from my time. It means something that works for all genders. Male, female, or any other.”
His face remained twisted in thought as he processed my words. “Any other?”
I laughed again and leaned over to smooth the surface of his scruffy cheek with my hand.
“Yes, but that’s a conversation for another time. I don’t want to overload your old-world brain.”
The moment was light, but I immediately took note of how his body relaxed into my touch as if he’d been too scared to touch me first. The thought struck a chord in my heart. I pulled at the collar of his white shirt and brought his face to mine.
“Kiss me, Henry.”
His body was tense, unsure, but did as I asked. The warmth of his soft lips melted mine and I breathed in the scent of him. Sweat and sleep mixed with something else. Something that always lured me in and clouded my judgment. Like a siren’s song, Henry’s very existence called to me. Over threads of space and time. He was my soulmate… no matter how dark his soul may be.
His chest vibrated with a deep moan as he shifted to hover above me on the bed. His long legs spread mine open and I grabbed his thick leather belt, driving his hips into me. A warm shiver coursed through my body as his mouth found my ear and he whispered deeply.
“God, how I’ve missed you.”
I tilted my head back in ecstasy, body writhing against his. “I’m right here. I’ve always been right here.”
Henry paused and pulled away, looking into my eyes, his glistening with threats of tears. In them, I could see so much pain, so much regret, and I felt his torment. Gently, I grabbed
his face and touched my forehead to his.
“Dianna–”
“Shh, don’t,” I whispered. “You don’t have to. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not,” he argued and removed himself from atop my body to stand next to the bed, his back facing me.
“Henry, please,” I begged. “Don’t retreat again. Stay with me.”
“How can you say that? How can you still want me?”
“What do you mean? That’s all I want. For things to go back to the way they were before–” I had to stop myself. I refused to speak the words. To give them life.
But Henry spun back around and faced me with a fiery intensity blazing in his eyes. His fists tight balls at his sides. In that moment, I knew he was gone again and there was nothing I could do to reel him back. “What? Before I nearly killed you?”
“Henry,” I replied and stood. “You didn’t.”
“The marks you hide say otherwise.”
My throat tightened at the memory that forced its way through. But I shook my head. “You didn’t know what you were doing. You were sleeping.”
“Was I?” he replied, eyes gone dark. Empty. “Then how come I remember it all? My hands around your…” He brought his palms up and stared at them in disgust. “I shouldn’t be anywhere near you.”
I took a step toward him, but he retreated. “Just let me help you. You can’t live like this. We can’t live like this.”
“How can you possibly help me?” he asked as he hastily grabbed his belongings and shoved on his black leather jacket.
“By talking about what happened to you on that damn island!”
His head shot up and his dark, soulless eyes bore into mine. “No.”
“Henry–”
“No!” he bellowed. The man stood there for a moment, chest heaving in anger before he stormed out of our quarters and slammed the door behind him. He left me there in the stone-cold silence that had quickly become my life. The sound of my heartbeat, hot and rapid in my ears, the only noise to be found. I allowed a moment to fall apart before I forced myself to gather up the pieces and step into my daily role as captain. My crew needed me.
I just wished Henry needed me, too.
***
The vibration of our swords colliding pulsed down my arm and radiated deep in my bones. But it was a sensation I’d grown to like. Love, even. Finn had been seriously teaching me to use a sword for weeks now, and I looked forward to our daily lessons. They were one of the few things that removed me from the despair I felt with Henry’s PTSD.
Finn lunged at me, sword swinging hard from side to side. I dodged the blade with ease and brought my own up to block it. His face grinned madly. “Aye, yer catchin’ on fast, Lassie.”
“I would hope so, we’ve been at this for weeks,” I replied breathily and pushed against him.
“Some take years to master their blade,” he told me as we danced around one another in our practiced positions. “Some never truly grasp it at all.”
“Well, I need to know how to defend myself.”
“Aye, I won’t argue against ye there.” He spun around and flung his blade down low. But I caught it, hooking mine around it in a twirling fashion and forced it up and away from me. “But it would have been easier to teach ye to use a pistol, I reckon.”
The thought of using a pistol on anyone didn’t sit well in my stomach and the image of the barrel pointing at Henry flashed through my mind so fast I barely caught it. I shook my head, but the ashes of anger coursed through my veins and I used that to fuel my swinging arm. My fingers gripped the hilt tightly and I pushed against the space that Finn occupied, forcing him into a corner and held the edge of my blade to his neck. His eyes bulged at the sudden defeat.
“I’ll do just fine with a sword,” I told him and let it drop to my side as I backed away.
“Clearly,” he replied and coughed. An awkward silence hung in the air between us. “Uh, did ye want to get some breakfast? I think we can still catch it before Lottie cleans up.”
I forced a smile for my friend. “Sure.”
We descended the ladder to the mess deck and found a couple of the deckhands still hanging around, their plates empty but the conversation full as they enjoyed a cup of tea. But they both came to a respective halt at the sight of me. I rarely made an appearance in the morning because I often used those hours to catch up on sleep while Henry stepped in as captain for me.
“Please,” I said to them, “Don’t stop because I’m here. Enjoy your tea.”
They tipped their hats and smiled at me as I took a seat at an empty table. Finn ducked into the kitchen area where Lottie no doubt would be found. I rubbed my tired eyes and raked my fingers through the tangled mess of hair that sat on my shoulders. My mind raced with concern for the man I loved. He had to get a handle on his PTSD.
I just wished he’d let me help him. After my mom’s apparent death, Aunt Mary encouraged me to see a psychiatrist. I refused at first, determined to deal with my emotions in sullen silence. But, once I did, when I finally opened up and began to purge my feelings, I started to heal. It was a slow process, but it worked.
I knew that losing my mother at a young age couldn’t even be compared to what Henry went through in his lifetime. The savagery, the loss, the torture. Maria Cobham twisted his mind and soul until he could barely recognize himself in the mirror. He even became a whole other person in the process; Devil Eyed Barrett. But I had to hold on to the hope that if he just opened up to me, talked about what happened, then perhaps he could find his own way to heal.
Finn emerged from the kitchen with a tray full of food for us. “There’s not much left, but I scrounged up some grub.” He sat down on the bench seat across from me and shoved the tray in my direction. “Eat, ye look like ye needs it.”
“Thanks,” I replied with a smile. I grabbed a mug of tea and lifted it to my mouth, letting the warmth seep into my mouth and nose. After a few sips, I moved onto the bowl of porridge my friend offered and tossed a couple of spoonfuls into my mouth.
“I still prefer yer cookin’,” he admitted as he gobbled up the pale slop.
“Yeah, I know,” I replied. “But Lottie does a great job. Being the ship’s cook gives her a purpose she loves.”
“Oh, I don’t mind the lassie’s food,” he quickly amended. “It’s edible.” A grin splashed across his face. “But I’d give me right arm for one of them buns of yers.”
I tried to stifle the laugh that erupted from my gut, but such a thing was impossible around Finn. I’d hate to see the state I’d be in if I never had friends like him and Lottie to take comfort in. “I can make some later today if you really want them that bad.” I threw him a wink. “You can keep your arm.”
Finn waggled his bushy red eyebrows as he held the bowl up to his mouth to slurp the rest of his porridge. He then downed an entire cup of tea in one gulp and rubbed the remnants of food and beverage from his long beard with the palm of his hand.
“You know, I could give you a shave, if you want,” I offered.
He feigned offense. “What? Cut me beard off?”
“Yeah, it must get annoying. No?”
“The day I let someone remove a hair from me face is the day I lay down and die,” he half kidded.
I chuckled and ate a few more bites of the lukewarm porridge before setting it aside. “How much longer do you think we have?”
“Until we get there?” he asked. I nodded in response. “I reckon another two weeks. Maybe less. Maybe more. The sky is grey today and a chill in the air. Could be a storm comin’.”
“Oh? Should I be worried?”
He shook his head. “Nah, I doubt it’d be anythin’ more than some rain and gusts. Nothin’ The Queen cannae handle.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. But ready the rowboats and secure the deck just in case. We don’t want to lose anything.”
“Aye, Captain,” he replied and tipped his head in a mock fashion.
I’d been captain of o
ur ship for months now, but Finn still found amusement in my role. I let it slide because, to be honest, I felt it was a laughable thought most of the time. Me, Dianna Cobham. A wayward chef from Newfoundland captaining a full-rigged pirate ship? Yeah, I’d laugh, too.
“So, what’s the plan for when we hit the shores of England?” he asked.
I sucked in a deep breath through my nose and shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“Yer not sure?”
“Well, I thought we’d set up somewhere,” I quickly recovered. “Henry said he has a friend in Birmingham we can stay with if need be. I don’t expect to find Maria immediately. I know it’ll take some time, some scouting and asking around.”
“Aye,” he nodded thoughtfully, scratching at his beard, “and then?”
“What do you mean?”
“What do ye have in mind when we get our hands on the wench?”
I struggled to think of a response. Not because I hadn’t thought of what I’d do, but because I thought of it too often. And I still didn’t have an answer. Killing her felt wrong, it went against the grain of my very moral fibers. But letting her go would be an injustice to the world.
I hung my head and closed my eyes. “I don’t know yet.”
Finn leaned across the table and grabbed my hand gently, his voice low. “Then I suggest ye figure it out ‘cause I reckon Henry has his own plans for Maria and ye may not like it.”
Our eyes locked in a shared understanding, but I knew mine projected the fear that suddenly ran through my body. Henry didn’t want to open up to me, didn’t want to burden me with his demons… because he planned to slay them all on his own once we reached our destination. He was going to kill Maria.
The man I loved was going to murder my sister.
Chapter Two
Iwalked the length of the ship, making sure everything was in order but also looking for Henry. He had become an expert at avoiding me. Even on a ship with limited space, he managed to be everywhere I was not. I knew I shouldn’t think such things, but a part of me worried it was due to the fact that I resembled the woman of his nightmares. And now, Maria and I shared more than just a likeness or a distant ancestry. We shared blood. Close blood.
The Blackened Soul Page 1
