An Immortal Descent (8 page)

Lifting my chin, I met his challenge. “I found my match in Lord Fitzalan and have agreed to be his wife. If we’re to remain friends, you have to give up any ideas of our marrying. Otherwise we shall be strangers once Nora is safe.”

Julian turned thoughtful, and tension rippled through me as I awaited his response. “Agreed,” he said at last.

My shoulders sagged with relief. “Thank goodness—”

“Just as soon as you tell me how an Irish lass can truly love an English lord after all they’ve done to Ireland. Is it his royal title that’s caught your eye?”

My mouth fell open with an indignant huff. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing while a thieving English lord squats on my family’s lands.” Title indeed! The Kilbrids had a longstanding hatred of the peerage, and no doubt my brother Sean would have killed me for marrying one of them if he hadn’t already died in the West Indies.

Julian appeared amused at my outburst. I glared at him, astounded by the hypocrisy. “I’m not sure what you’re running on about as the Strouds are no less English and titled than the Fitzalans. You might as well be arguing against yourself for all the sense it makes.”

“What if I wasn’t?”

I waved the thought away. “There’s no point arguing hypotheticals.”

He opened his mouth to protest, then snapped it shut. I considered the discussion over, and was about to stand, when Julian started again.

“Only my father was English, and you know how I feel about the late Lord Stroud, may he rot in hell.”

“Lord Fitzalan isn’t particularly fond of his own father either. And his mother came from Germany.”

Annoyance spread over Julian’s face. Propping one hand in the grass, he shifted his weight forward. “Is there anything I can offer to tilt the odds in my favor?”

I scoffed at his use of words. “You make me sound like prize to be won.”

“What if I restored your family lands in Ireland?”

“William of Orange made sure my father’s line could never return.” Not that it mattered, as my heart belonged wholly to Henry. His face appeared in my mind, the impish smile and green eyes flecked with gold. I missed him so much, at times I could hardly breathe for the constant pressure in my chest.

“But what if I found a way to do it,” Julian persisted. “Would you think of me differently then?”

“Nothing will change my mind.”

He looked at me with an earnestness that made my insides shiver. “What about all of Ireland? If I could drive the English away, would that turn your heart in my favor?”

I laughed outright. “You might as well promise me the moon.”

“I’ve no interest in the moon.”

My smile faltered at his seriousness. “Do you ever give up?”

He shook his head.
“Appease me in this, Selah.”

Oh, for pity’s sake.
“What would you have me say?”

“That you will at least consider my offer.”

“Fine. Chase the English away, and then we’ll talk.” I pushed to my feet. “We need to get back soon.”

At the spring, we drank our fill, alternating use of the silver cup. Once finished, I dried my hands on the front of my sheath and glanced around the garden.

“Are you looking for something?” Julian asked.

I didn’t want to get into the particulars of how I had run away from London and was now being pursued by my very angry and very powerful great-grandparents. “Just not in the mood for company, I guess.” I looked over my shoulder toward a group of trees that hugged the rim of the mist. “We really should return. Justine is waiting.”

Julian didn’t argue but neither did he hurry. Thrusting his arms high in the air, he arched his back for a full body stretch. Then he meandered to where my cape had been left in the grass. Folding it over one arm, he looked back at the spring longingly. “I hate to leave so soon.”

“Yes, yes. So do I.”

He didn’t move at once, and I willed myself to be patient, tapping my foot in the grass to vent my growing anxiety.
Just another minute or two, and we’ll be back at the tavern...

A sound drifted out from the mist. I tensed, ready to flee. “Did you hear that?” I whispered.

“Hear what?” Julian asked, matching my tone.

Laughter came next, soft and musical and definitely feminine.

I grabbed Julian’s hand, yanking him hard. “This way,” I hissed, making a beeline toward a group of bushes near the edge. Julian followed without question. We ducked down just as a woman emerged from the mist.

“Who is it?” Julian asked in a low whisper.

A glimpse of deep auburn hair nearly stopped my heart.
Cate!

Someone else emerged from the mist behind her, most likely another set of hands to wrestle me into submission. Standing, I made to slip away unnoticed.

A branch snagged on my sheath. I froze, one foot suspended over the ground as I prayed the rustle of leaves had gone unnoticed.

The man turned slightly. “Who’s there?” he asked good-naturedly.

This time, Julian moved first, tugging me backward. I gasped as the man’s profile swept through my line of sight. Then he disappeared behind a veil of mist.

It can’t be!

I forgot how to move, and if not for Julian, I would have remained rooted to the spot. He dragged me like a bewildered child until the darkness took hold, and we were swept back to Bristol. My eyes flew open the very moment I smelled burning herbs. Julian came into view, a deep crease between his brows.

A wooden chair scraped the floor next to us. “Glad you’re back,” Justine said. “You were gone so long, I was beginning to fear you had fallen into Cate’s hands.”

Julian kept his eyes pinned to mine. “Is that who we were running from?”

I nodded.

Justine pulled in a sharp breath. “You saw Cate?”

“I... I’m not sure.” Everything happened so quickly, the scene hadn’t had time to fully form in my mind. “A woman came into the garden when we were leaving. Her hair was the same color as Cate’s, so I just assumed it was her.”

“Didn’t you see her face?” Justine asked.

“Not very well. We heard laughter and hid behind some bushes before she came out of the mist.”

Julian adjusted his knees on the hard floor, and I realized we were still holding hands. “Did you recognize the man?” he asked.

I shook my head, pulling my hand away.
No, because that would be impossible.
Goose bumps prickled beneath the sheath, and I wrapped my arms tightly around myself. Julian passed my cape to me, which I hurriedly donned.

“Was it Tom?” Justine asked.

“He had dark brown hair,” I told her. “Like Julian’s.”

And mine...

Justine leaned forward, propping her hands on the chest for support. Candlelight played on her face, flickered in the blue centers of her narrowed eyes. “If Cate were there, it’s possible another goddess born from London joined her. Dr. Gillman has dark hair, though he and Cate are not on the best of terms at the moment.” She tapped a finger in thought. “My first guess is that you went through a different altar, not that it matters anymore as you’ve both returned safe and sound. Hopefully, Mr. Roth will have secured something for the morning, and we’ll be long gone before anyone has time to find us.”

Julian’s stare weighed on me while she spoke. In no mood for his questions, I pushed up from the floor and walked to the window. Leaning one shoulder against the wall, I peered past the rough wool drapery to the road below. A sea of black hats and various colored hoods moved this way and that, similar to the flow of my thoughts. I pulled my cape tighter and pressed my forehead against the windowpane. Several fat raindrops hit the glass a moment before the dark clouds burst open, and the scene below turned to a watery blur.

Closing my eyes, I moved my attention inward to the dark-haired man from the garden. I would have given anything for a clear view of his face, even risked a confrontation with my grandmother if need be. The man had been turning toward us, but Julian pulled me away a split second too early.

It couldn’t have been him.

To think otherwise would be a grievous deception, one that led straight to despair. Dr. Gillman was a prime candidate, or any other dark-headed goddess born who remained among the living.

Someone knocked on the door, and James came into the room. Rain dripped from his greatcoat to form a pool of water at his feet.

Justine stood, scraping the chair against the floor in her haste. “What have you found?”

His cheeks were flushed red with cold. “I’ve secured passage for today. We’ve half an hour to be aboard to make the tide, or it will be another day at least for the next ships to leave. From what I’ve heard, a storm is moving in, and many of the captains won’t be sailing till it’s blown through.”

Julian pushed up from the chest. “Well done, Mr. Roth. I shall be ready in a moment.” He began tucking in his shirt.

James grabbed a saddlebag from the pile. “I’ll make arrangements with the innkeeper to stable the horses until we return. Meet me downstairs when you’re ready.” He left without another word.

Moving from the window, I dressed quickly behind the bed drape, and within a quarter hour we were back on the road, ankle-deep in mud. The rain continued in full force, drenching us through by the time we reached the docks. James approached a man who sheltered beneath an overhang of what appeared to be a fishery shed. I recognized him at once from the amber cape, not to mention the eye patch and profusion of white hair.

He thrust a hand at James. “Just in time, me lad,” he said in his think Irish brogue. Spying the rest of our party, he stepped aside and doffed his hat in a low bow. “Master Calhoun at your service, skilled apothecary and peddler o’ cures for any manner of ailments.”

We all nodded in greeting when James added to the introduction. “He’s a personal acquaintance of the captain and called in a favor to get us aboard on such short notice.”

A wide smile split the man’s round face. “A friend of the silver, the captain is, though there’s no one better to navigate this cursed river once the storms be upon us.” His amiable gaze swept across our group, and I hunched into my cape as his one good eye stopped on me. “There’s a snug cabin all ready below deck. Let’s be off, and you’ll be warm in no time, you will.”

Justine moved beside me. “Your kindness is much appreciated, Master Calhoun.” She glanced at James. “Mr. Roth, may we have a private word please?”

Impatience filled his face. “What is it, Miss Rose? We’ve no time to waste lollygagging if we intend to make this ship.”

“I must beg an indulgence,” she said, sugar-coating a more serious undertone. “It is of the utmost importance.”

James exhaled. “Very well, but make it quick.” He looked at the man. “Would you mind giving us a moment?”

“You’ve no more than that, me lad. The
Sea Witch
be sailing at half past, whether you’re on board or not. The captain won’t risk the mud for any man, nor any price.”

“We’ll be aboard,” James assured him. “This will only take a minute.”

Master Calhoun stepped from beneath the cover, his amber cloak and wide-brimmed hat swaying as he walked the short distance to the waiting ship.

James rounded on Justine the very second we were alone. “What’s the problem, Miss Rose?”

She pursed her lovely mouth. “I don’t trust him.”

“Neither do I,” Julian added.

“Of course you don’t,” James said, clearly exasperated. “The man’s a bloody Irishman! It’s not in his nature to be trustworthy.”

My chin jutted forward. “There’s no need to be rude, Mr. Roth. I’m Irish and I still don’t like him.” It hadn’t occurred to me until now, and in truth I wasn’t exactly sure why except that the odd attire lent him the appearance of an eccentric buccaneer.

“That’s not it,” Justine said, dismissing my protest with a flick of her hand. “Something’s off about the man. I can’t quite put a finger on it, but he sets my teeth on edge.”

James gestured toward the river. “Well, in case you haven’t noticed, our options are currently limited to either the
Sea Witch
or swimming. You may choose for yourself, but I assure you I will be on that ship before it leaves the dock today.”

Our small huddle fell silent while Julian and Justine decided what to do. My presence on board was a foregone conclusion, so I spent the time instead fuming over James’s insult.

Untrustworthy, my foot!
How dare he make such a broad statement? As though every Englishman were devoid of that particular trait. I decided right then to be extra nice toward Master Calhoun for the sole purpose of annoying James and disproving his backward opinions of all things Irish. We might have made progress of late, but Mr. Roth obviously had a long way yet to go.

The rain pinged against the roof before running in streams to the ground. Puddles crept over the soles of my boots, seeped past the seam to find the stockings within. I curled my toes against the cold, anxious to be inside the snug room the man had mentioned.

Justine spoke first. “How do we even know the little wretch and Nora aren’t hiding in Bristol somewhere? Chances are they weren’t able to secure passage so quickly.”

James scrubbed a hand across his forehead. “Because Master Calhoun saw them board a ship a few hours ago at high tide.”

I inhaled a sharp breath. “Are you sure?”

“He recalled a beggar child of Deri’s description accompanied by a young woman with dark brown hair and dressed in a gray gown.”

Even in a town of Bristol’s size, the chances were narrow that two other people would fit such a description.

“Why didn’t you say so from the beginning?” Justine demanded.

“I don’t know.” He shook his head as though trying to clear it. “There were other matters that demanded my immediate attention. I would have spoken sooner if I’d known there was a chance you’d refuse passage.”

A loud whistle pierced the air. We all turned at once toward the dock, where Master Calhoun waved his arms like a madman. “It’s now or never!” he yelled.

Desperation filled James’s eyes. “We have to catch this ship, or wait until the storm blows through. And by then Nora could be...” His voice cracked with emotion, and he fell silent, unable to finish the sentence.