The Siren's Call

by Candace Osmond

  “Aye, ye do,” he said in a Scottish purr. “I sees the way ye looks at her. But I also sees the way Henry looks at ye. Roselyn Wallace cannae hold a candle to it, Captain. What they had, t’was a long time ago.”

  My breath caught in my throat and my heart pounded against the interior of my chest. My feet unable to move. I stared Finn square in the face.

  “What do you mean?”

  His blotchy Scottish skin flushed red with the realization of what he’d done, and panic filled his eyes. “Uh, I mean, I didnae–”

  “Finnigan Artair, you tell me right now. Were Henry and Wallace together in the past?”

  The words left a scorched trail as they burned in my mouth. Finn wouldn’t answer and his grip on my body ceased. Why did Henry lie to me? I had asked him if there was anything I should know. If there were anything to worry about. I fought back hot tears.

  Finn’s face pleaded with me to remain calm and refrain from prying. “Dian–”

  I moved closer to him and lowered my voice, hoping it would placate him enough to give me the answer I wanted. Because, clearly, I wasn’t getting it from Henry. “We’re they… did he… love her?”

  Finn’s jaw opened but no sound came out at first. “Ah, Lass, I dinnae know the answer to that. I swear it.” But my friend saw the pain I was in and offered what he could. “’Twas many years ago. Before me time with him aboard The Devil’s Heart. I only ken what Gus told me.”

  Shaking with anger, I wiped the wet skin under my eyes. “Which was?”

  He sighed helplessly and then nodded. “Aye, they was together. A long time ago. Henry mustn’t have been more than a young man, fresh off The Burning Ghost. But he didnae love the woman. Not enough to stay, anyway.”

  It should have made me feel better, his words should have given me that assurance I so desperately needed. But I felt worse. I was drowning in a pit of my own despair right there on the dance floor. It felt like all my insides were pouring out and everyone was watching.

  “Breathe, Captain,” Finn whispered and took me by the shoulders, demanding I meet his gaze. I did. I took a deep breath, in and out. “What are ye frettin’ over? That’s history. He was a different man then.” I began to calm, the anger dissipating and dissolving throughout my body. Finn waited until my eyes focused on his and he smiled wide. “He’s a better man now.”

  I stood straight. The dance was over, and people began to mingle into groups and find seats to rest their tired feet. Finn was right. What was I doing? What was wrong with me?

  “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I’m not sure what came over me. This damn baby, it’s making me feel crazy sometimes.”

  “Aye,” he churred happily, “just wait ‘till the bugger is born. Then ye will have yer hands full.”

  I laughed, despite the tears that lingered in my eyes.

  “Are ye alright?”

  I nodded with all the assurance I could offer, then walked to the outer edge of the room as Finn left in search of more wine. I scanned the space for a tall, blonde pirate. But came up empty. Henry was nowhere to be found. Part of me was grateful he didn’t witness my discreet breakdown on the dancefloor but another part, a bigger part, began to worry. My mind picked up the leftover pieces of panic that still flowed in my veins and lit a spark. My heart sped up as I turned and craned my neck in search of him. Down the hall. In and out of rooms. Nothing.

  I went back toward the grand foyer and looked up to the second floor that loomed overhead, searching the balcony that encircled and looked down from above. My gaze trailed along the golden banister and it was there that I found him. His back to me. His front to someone else. I couldn’t make out who it was, Henry’s massive frame blocked my view, but I could tell from his body language that he was speaking to someone. Finally, he turned ever so slightly, still with his back to me, but enough to reveal who had his full attention in the privacy of upstairs.

  Roselyn Wallace.

  My blood scorched through my veins with anger as I watched her perfect brown fingers caress the sleeve of Henry’s arm, the way her body moved closer, pressing out the air between them. She leaned in and wrapped her long arms around his neck and, for a split second I expected him to push her away. But he didn’t. Instead, Henry, my Henry, happily accepted her embrace. I fought down the vomit that threatened to rise in my throat, but I lost the fight as I watched her pull free of their hold. Just enough to place a tender kiss at the corner of his mouth. What little I had in my stomach wretched from my body and I turned toward a massive floor vase by my side, heaving the contents into it. Sending gross echoes bouncing through the large space.

  “Dianna!” I heard Henry shout from above.

  I stood and wiped at my mouth as I shot a cold stare up at the both of them. He seemed confused at first and turned to a smug looking Wallace before glancing back down to me, realization smeared across his face. In a split second, he came sprinting around the open hallway above, heading for the stairs. He was coming to explain. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

  I began to back away, unsure of what to do or where to go. I just knew I couldn’t be anywhere near Henry right now. My heart squeezed in my chest and warm tears stained my face at the betrayal I’d just witnessed.

  “Dianna, wait!” he called out desperately. But The Siren’s Call was a large house and the space between us was vast.

  “No! Don’t you dare,” I yelled at the man, my voice echoing through the huge foyer. With trembling fingers, I stuffed a hand in between my breasts and pulled out his mother’s ring. “I knew it. I knew it! And, to think, the only thing I wanted this entire God damn day was to give you this!”

  I threw it across the wide-open foyer where it pinged off the marble floor and rolled to Henry’s feet. He stopped, shocked, and bent down to retrieve the ring. I continued to back away, quickly now, and watched as his eyes widened upon examining the piece of jewelry. He stood, frozen in shock or fear or… something else, I wasn’t sure. Turning, I heard the sound of a voice calling to me, desperately, as I ran out the door and hopped in an empty carriage before ordering the driver to go with haste to The Kraken’s Den. Away from The Siren’s Call. Away from Henry and the pieces of my broken heart left sprawled on that cold, marble floor.

  Chapter Seven

  Iremember flinging myself from the carriage once I saw the swinging wooden sign of The Kraken’s Den in the distance. The whole way there, I rocked back and forth, willing myself to keep it together just until I got there. Until I could fall apart in the comforts and privacy of my own room. Alone.

  Despite the way the modified corset protested against my ribs, I wrapped both arms tightly around my torso and begged my brain to shut off. The images flashed through my mind, hot and vivid. But in a whole new light. Not just the still-shots from the day, but the long-forgotten memories of the recent past. My life before all of this. How simple it was. I’d taken it for granted, the safety and assurances of the future, the conveniences and ease of life.

  Then, my mind neared the moment I came back home for Dad’s funeral and the fateful chain of events that had led me to the past. My present. I wondered then, if it were all a matter of coincidence… or was my life nothing more than a result of some divine providence? Destiny? If that were the case, then I shouldn’t wish my time back. There was no point. I would have ended up in the very same position in life, lost in the past with a band of pirates, knocked-up, and feeling utterly alone.

  I stormed up the wide and winding stairs of The Kraken’s Den and burst through my room door. With great frustration and impatience, I ripped the stupid dress from my body in pieces. Screaming. Crying. Tearing at the fabric and cursing how hard it was to rid my body of it suffocating hold.

  Finally, everything I wore laid in a heap on the floor and I slipped on a clean shift before diving into bed. Sitting up, I plucked out the pins in my hair and tossed them to the floor near the dress and my shoes. It felt good to let my long black hair fall around my body. It calmed me. Brought me
back to The Queen; my hair blowing in the sea breeze as I placed a hand atop of my red tricorn hat to keep it from catching in the wind. I missed the food Lottie would make. I missed playing in the kitchen with her and the feel of utensils in my able hands, chopping and peeling earthy veggies.

  My eyes closed, I leaned my head back against the dark headboard and inhaled deeply, remembering the smell of my bed. The one I shared with Henry. Our quarters that filled with sunshine all day and came to life with candlelight at night. When Henry and I would lay in bed and profess our love for one another in so many ways.

  A single tear fell from my eye, but I wiped it away before others could follow. God, I’d give anything to forget this all happened. Then an idea formed in my mind, refusing to be swept away with irrationality. I still had one pearl. Stretching, I leaned over to my bedside table and pulled out a drawer that contained a small, locked box. I opened it and fingered around the contents until I found the pearl and pinched it between my fingers.

  Yes, I told myself I’d save it and wish us all home in the end. But… what if I wished myself back to the future? Away from all this mess and the dangers of the past. Just leave it all behind and wipe my hands of everyone and everything I touched since washing up in 1707. My baby would be safer, that was for certain.

  But would I be happy?

  I knew the answer almost as fast as I asked the question. No. I’d be absolutely miserable living in an era in which I never did fit in. I’d be forced to look at the face of my child every day, forced to remember its father, my glorious pirate king and the misfit band of pirates I called friends. No, family. I could never leave them. I could never leave Henry, no matter what he’d done.

  I put the pearl back and returned the box to its place next to my bed before I yanked the heavy quilts up around my neck and laid down to go to sleep. At first, I thought I’d never fall asleep. But within seconds, the weight of the day came crashing down and my eyes forced shut, spinning me into a deep, and dreamless rest.

  It was sometime later when I awoke again. How long, I had no idea. But my head protested as I opened my eyes to the slight noise that woke me. Henry had entered the room and attempted to quietly shut the door behind him. I watched with one eye fully open as he turned and looked at me, his face sullen and defeated. Slack from drink. Swiftly, he removed his coat and slung it over a chair.

  “You’re awake?” he asked softly.

  Not moving, I replied against the pillow, “I am now.”

  He sighed and slipped off the new black vest and white shirt, adding it to the pile in the chair. “I’m sorry to have awakened you. Although, I’m ashamed to admit I’m relieved you’re not asleep.”

  “Why’s that?”

  He looked at me with an expression that begged understanding. “I was hoping to talk to you. That’s… is that not what we do?”

  Damn it. He was right. We’d made a pact, back aboard The Queen, to always be honest and talk our way through anything. It’s how I helped him deal with the PTSD and the darkness which haunted him each day. It’s how I got over what happened to me aboard The Black Soul. I talked it to death in the days following. Henry never wavered, never grew tired, and always accepted the way I felt about it all. How I cared for Benjamin, because he was my friend. How Pleeman gave his life to save mine and the guilt I carried back to shore. Henry helped me through it all.

  I at least owed him the chance to speak.

  Carefully and tiredly, I pulled myself up and leaned against the wooden headboard. “So, talk.”

  My eyes raked over his body and how the exposed skin of his chest moved over the lithe muscles. How it rose and fell with quick, nervous breaths. With empty palms upturned, he said, “I came to beg your forgiveness. I was a fool to withhold the details of my past with Roselyn. And I was cruel to let you think there was nothing to worry about.”

  I raised my eyebrows and folded my arms over my protruding belly.

  “Christ,” he spat in frustration and rubbed his forehead. “I’m still no good at this.” Henry took two quick steps toward the bed then. “There is nothing for you to worry about. I swear. I just meant, I should have told you then and there. That I was once with Wallace. But that it means nothing today.”

  I chewed at my bottom lip as I let his sincere words sink in. I searched his face, void of any sign of deceit, and only saw a man riddled with guilt. Just not the kind I thought he should have. He didn’t feel bad for betraying me, because he didn’t. I could see that now.

  With great willpower, I shifted over and pat the area on the bed next to me. “Come, sit.”

  Henry did as he was told, and took a seat next to me, his back to the door so he could face me head on.

  “Dianna–”

  “Tell me everything,” I demanded.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You are everything to me. My life here in the past has no purpose without you.” As I spoke the words, Henry’s face became awash in confusion. “But I cannot be here if I’m left in the dark. I won’t allow it. Open books, remember?”

  He nodded.

  “We promised. Never to withhold anything from one another.” I paused and slipped my hand in his and Henry clenched tightly, desperately, as if he thought he’d never hold my hand again. “So, I need you to tell me everything about you, Roselyn Wallace, and how you’re connected.”

  He seemed to accept that wholeheartedly but shook his head. “Don’t you care to know what happened tonight?”

  “I do. I mean, I will,” I replied and recalculated my thoughts. “I want to know everything first. Then tell me what happened tonight.”

  Henry adjusted himself into a more comfortable position, kicking his boots onto the floor, but still held his grip around my fingers.

  “It all started years ago.” He guffawed. “Christ, so many years ago. It’d only been a few months after the witch and I cursed Maria and her ship. I was a free man. Careless. Gettin’ into all sorts of trouble. That’s when I found Wallace.” Henry stopped and widened his dark eyes.

  “Wallace Senior, I mean. Roselyn’s father. He ran the port, colluded with both sides of the law, while also running a prestigious brothel. I went to him one day to pay the duty for the ship I was on. With the captain, of course. But Wallace took a particular interest in me. To this day, I’ll never know what it was. But he chose me. Took me in, taught me the ins and outs of real piracy. How to do it and not get caught. How to work both sides. He put me on the path to get The Devil’s Heart.”

  “So, how does Roselyn come into all this?” I asked.

  “She’s his daughter. An illegitimate child he had with one of the housemaids. But the mother died in childbirth and, for some reason, he kept Roselyn as his own.”

  “He must have been a decent man, then,” I say.

  Henry chortled. “Hardly. Wallace was a hard man. He ruled with an iron fist, and people feared him. No one dared miss a payment, or slight him in any way. He had nobility in his pocket and piracy wrapped around his finger. He raised Roselyn until she was a… ripe age and then forced her to work in the brothel.”

  I gasped. “You can’t be serious!” I did the rough math in my head. Roselyn seemed close to my age, younger, if anything. And if this was as many years ago as I’m told… “My God, she must not have been much older than–”

  “Fourteen,” Henry finished for me. “I was only a young man myself, but I knew that it was wrong. Profiting off his own daughter’s body like that. It made me sick. So, I stayed. I let Wallace take me further under his wing. I got my ship, met Gus, built a crew, and worked for Wallace under the guise of a privateer. For years, he treated me like a son.”

  Henry halted, seeming unsure of what to say next. Or how to say it.

  “He had no idea when Roselyn and I began to get… involved. At first, it was platonic. I pitied her for the vile things she had to do each day. But the more I got to know the young woman growing up before my eyes, the more I fell for her.”

  “In lov
e?” I asked, barely a croak of a whisper.

  Henry shook his head and let out a deep breath, squeezing my hand. “No, not love. I cared for her, yes. But I always knew I could never love her. It just wasn’t there.” He touched the center of his chest where his heart would be. “I could feel it. So, I left as soon as I could.”

  I replayed his words over in my head, still unclear. “So, how did she come to own her father’s entire business if he barely regarded her as his own heir to begin with?”

  Henry grinned. “Like I said, Wallace regarded me akin to a son. When he fell ill, he wrote a will. Leaving it all to me. On the day of his passing, it was like the final piece of the iceberg breaking off. I could leave. I no longer needed him, nor he I. Roselyn was older, wiser, and more than capable. And the rightful heir to all, in my opinion. So, before anyone was the wiser, I did the paperwork and left it all to her.”

  We sat in silence for a while. Me, letting Henry’s words stew in my brain. Him, waiting patiently for my forgiveness. Finally, as an act of progress, I squeezed his hand back and pulled him toward me, our faces just inches from one another. From this distance I could smell the stench of red wine and tobacco on his skin and inhaled it. It reminded me of when we first met and, I realized then, how he must have stopped shortly after. For me.

  I pursed my lips and nodded. “Alright, so what happened tonight? Why did you disappear and why did I find you alone, with her?” My eyes glossed over. “Kissing.”

  “Oh, no. Christ, no. Dianna, we weren’t kissing.” He cleared his nervous throat as I raised my eyebrows, daring him to lie to me. “She had something to share with me. News. She’s met someone and wanted to know if we’d all come to meet him. Roselyn thanked me for everything I’d done for her in the past and apologized for her behavior the other day.”

  “That’s all?” I ask.

  “Yes, I swear it. The embrace you saw was just two old friends.” Henry’s head hung low. “The kiss, however, may have been slightly out of line.”