7. BOOM!
I set down my quill with a grimace, still displeased with my penmanship. I hoped my guacamole ingredients were legible.
Tomatoes, several
An onion
Jalapeño or other spicy peppers
Limes, two
Garlic, one clove
Cilantro / Coriander
Salt
My new list was right underneath the last one I’d written. Here, conservation of paper wasn’t about the environment, but necessity; I’d have bet my hat that effective paper mills were not an everyday occurrence in this time period.
Today, I needed to be sharp - the lieutenant commander had promised to be by to pick me up early. Since writing had failed me, I could only hope that the coffee would suffice. I was beginning to feel the effects of the second cup. Finally. Though I was a morning person at home, here and now I seemed to be experiencing some sort of time travel jet lag upon waking.
Usually, writing helped me focus. But today I’d only managed a grocery list. Reset. I dipped my quill carefully into the inkpot and moved to another page.
Today:
Tour the island with LCC
Reschedule fitting with Matheo
I felt better already. I added one more line.
Souvenirs?
There. Composing a to-do list was far more edifying than lame poetry. I cleaned the ink from my fingertips, then picked up a spoon. I could feel Josefa-Maria watching me restlessly as I took my first bite. The fruit porridge from the kitchen was closer to edible this morning. “Mmm,” I asserted. The strawberries were the only thing saving it; the oats should have been ground into some other use days ago. Better yet, given to whatever horses and other livestock were nearby. In the distance, I heard the bell ring to mark another hour and roused myself.
Layer by layer, Josefa-Maria and I dressed Lady Isabelle for the day. Today’s garment was another of Anne’s ridiculously ornate creations.
My bodice was navy satin with cheery yellow pinstripes, flowing kimono sleeves of sunset orange satin, and a neckline that featured a daring plunge and rows of embroidery. The full skirt had the same soft navy fabric, with colorful nature patterns and themes embroidered along it and a beaded yellow-orange ribbon along the hem. The light golden-yellow organza overlay that floated over the skirt was the perfect final touch. The entire thing was luxurious, fun, and feisty - ideal first date attire.
And then I was alone again, with Lady Isabelle staring back at me. Staring like the Mona Lisa.
“It really is a transformation,” I said, amazed. A dozen yards of shiny fabric, a few pieces of jewelry, an elegant half-updo with some sparkly accessories, and bam! I was a different person. The person in the mirror didn’t look quite as foreign today. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. Neither did she, judging from the look on her face. “This is nuts,” I told her, playing with the long, thin flat twists I’d left out to hang down over my shoulders. Still glossy. I wonder how many more days I can--
BOOM!
The building shook, and the acrid smell of smoke began to make its way into the room.
“Fuck!” I screamed at the ceiling. Godfuckingdamnit! “What now!” Was that an earthquake? Was Bermuda even in an earthquake region? Why did it smell like fireworks? Did fireworks even exist yet? Evacuate or hide? The thought of making it any distance in my current clothing was...unlikely. Fuck!
I ducked behind the cedar screen and hoped my breakfast knife and the one strapped to my thigh would suffice for whatever happened next. My heart was pounding as screams and other sounds of mayhem up the stairs. And then, footsteps in the hall...followed by a knock at the door.
“Lady?” It was Gerta’s voice on the other side of the door, and I heard her key in the lock. Still, I waited. The door opened. “Lady Isabelle?” I peeked carefully to ensure she was alone before revealing myself.
“What is going on?” I demanded. My heart was still thumping madly.
“I don’t know, lady,” Gerta took up a position guarding me. She looked flushed and panicked too. “I came to check on you first thing.” Josefa-Maria was at her side.
“Oh. Well, thank you. Will you please find out what is happening?” A man’s quick, heavy steps sounded in the hall, and I gripped my knife more tightly. I scarcely dared to breathe. That rat bastard thief was dead. Anne’s blade had seen to that. He was dead. He wasn’t here. I knew that.
...But what if he was running up the steps, ready to demand his vengeance? Or if one of the others had survived, somehow--
When Lieutenant Commander Coventry appeared at the door, I sagged against the bed post in relief. “What is it? Are we under attack?” I searched his person for clues as he bowed, bracing myself to run. Or fight? Or both?
Fairly flushed, but his sword was still sheathed at his side; his hair looked slightly out of place, but his hat was just under his arm. The lieutenant commander had also taken the time to bow in greeting, I realized belatedly. He did, however, smell strongly of smoke. The smell was everywhere.
“We are not under attack, Lady Isabelle,” he replied calmly. “There’s been an incident downstairs, and I came to ensure your well-being.”
It took a while for his words to penetrate. “We’re...we’re not...?” I looked up at him as I sank down onto the bed. “We’re not under attack?” The knife fell from my hand and clattered to the floor, stopping in front of the lieutenant commander. “Oh my god,” I said, burying my face in my hands. I was mortified at crying in front of them, but the tears of shock and relief spilled out anyway. While I helplessly sobbed into my hands, the lieutenant commander spoke to Gerta and Josefa-Maria; I couldn’t make out what he was saying to them. I fumbled blindly on the nightstand until I retrieved a kerchief, snaking it back under the cover of my hand. Once my tearfest was over, I blotted my face, then emerged to a large nip of whiskey at my eye level.
“What’s this?” When I looked up, it was the lieutenant commander. He had turned to look out of the window, politely giving me the illusion of privacy. “I believe you could use a drink, Lady Isabelle.”
“Yes, thank you.” I took it from him and drank it down. I felt much better. In front of the mirror, I dabbed my face with cold water. My kingdom for a fucking therapist.
“Lady Isabelle,” Lieutenant Commander Coventry began slowly, “do you still feel inclined to take this excursion with me? I would understand if you would prefer to stay in your room and recover-?”
“No, I desperately want to get out of this place. Our outing sounds like just the thing. Unless...”
I really wasn’t thinking clearly. He was the lieutenant commander. I didn’t know shit about how the military worked, but I did know that they were usually responsible for maintaining order and stuff. Or, maybe, he didn’t want to hang out with someone who had, apparently, completely fucking overreacted.
I smiled politely. “Unless, you’re busy now, because of the ‘incident’? I would understand if you needed to reschedule.” There. I’d given him a very easy out...
He shook his head immediately. “Lady Isabelle, I have been very much looking forward to this. If you will permit me a few minutes more to send orders, and finish the preparations, we will be on our way shortly.”
...and he hadn’t taken it.
“Okay,” I said cautiously. “If you’re sure...”
“Yes, quite.” Lieutenant Commander Coventry smiled down at me, giving me a genteel bow before darting out of the room.
I blinked. Wow. It seemed like he was really looking forward to this. Or maybe he was just that classy. “Or maybe there’s a good Thai place in the area that he’s been dying to check out,” I suggested to my reflection.
By the time the lieutenant commander sent Gerta up to retrieve me, I had managed to cold-water-compress my face back to normal.
“I mean, you are kind of gorgeous,” I whispered to my reflection, adjusting my jeweled hair pins, “even if you are a complete and utter fraud.”
The gaping hole in the corner of the common room stopped me in my tracks on the small wooden staircase. Jesus. It looked like a wrecking ball had come through.
I turned to Gerta. “Was anyone injured?”
Gerta shrugged. “Possibly, lady.”
The ‘incident’ hadn’t taken out any of the supporting beams, but I knew nothing about load-bearing walls.
“That looks rather unsafe,” I remarked. “Are there rooms above that area?” Gerta nodded. “Are they occupied?”
“Ja, lady. Likely. Just whores.” She shrugged.
I blinked at her nonchalance. “Is someone going to do something about that wall?”
“Ja, lady. Likely.”
A font of information, as always, Gerta.
Gerta opened my parasol, handing it over as she opened the door. Unsurprisingly, the new addition - or maybe subtraction was more accurate, here?- to the inn had drawn a number of onlookers.
I found the four horses hitched to the carriage far more fascinating.
“Oh, wow,” I breathed. “Hello.” I greeted each of them softly. “I have apples upstairs. If I’d known you were out here I would have brought out some slices. Maybe next time,” I murmured. “I have plenty of apples. You really are such a sweet girl, aren’t you?”
Lieutenant Commander Coventry was gazing down at me when I looked up.
“Hello,” I said, looking away awkwardly. I was feeling shy all of a sudden. It was always really awkward when you got caught having full-blown conversations with animals. Especially when the person who caught you was someone you wanted to bone.
“Shall we?” He offered me his arm.
Fucking swoon, I thought, accepting it with a smile. I still couldn’t look up at him, though. And that was when I noticed that the crowd, who had previously been staring at the hole in the wall, had migrated to stare... at us. Or me?
People going to work, people running errands, women with babies, women with parasols, men with crates, men with children, children with babies. Everyone in town, it seemed, was walking through this area right now, and they had all gathered to stare.
The lieutenant commander didn’t appear to notice, but I suddenly felt very self-conscious. They were staring at us like we were celebrities. Nobility, Izzy. They’re staring at you like you’re nobility. Cool. No fucking pressure. Breathe.
I was grateful for his arm.
...I want to clarify that statement. I was grateful for the stability, of course. But I was also pretty excited because, ohmygod, this is the first time we’ve touched each other. And I mean on purpose, not as a reflex. And, it was a really nice arm.
Where was I? Oh, right.
I was grateful for his arm.
I paused as he moved to open the carriage door. “I don’t suppose we could ride?” I asked hopefully, giving a pointed look at the waiting pair of horses that were not attached to the conveyance. I missed Princess Jasmine and Darcy Evangeline de Raven Court and Persephone the Great. A ride sounded perfect.
“You ride?” He asked, staring down at me intently.
I shrugged modestly. “Only every day.” And now the paddock-style leather booties Anne had included in my “Renaissance Faire” trunk made sense. I had figured this was what women wore during this time, but maybe it was both.
The lieutenant commander beamed. “Then I shall obtain a proper saddle for you at once, my lady.” He motioned and a tall, dark haired young man appeared. He bowed to me then turned to the lieutenant commander, listening attentively. “Lady Isabelle wishes to ride. I’ll need you to fetch a lady’s saddle for her.”
I walked over and examined the saddles. They had a more streamlined design than I was used to, but all of the important parts were there. “Why can’t I use one of these?”
The young man (Lieutenant Commander Coventry’s aide-de-camp, perhaps?) raised an eyebrow before looking at his boss, who tilted his head at me. “My lady,” the lieutenant commander said after a lengthy pause, “do I understand that you wish to ride astride?”
“Of course,” I replied. “How else would-” A lady’s saddle. “You thought sidesaddle?”
“Why- yes, my lady,” he finished simply.
“I do not even know how,” I informed him with a bright smile.
The lieutenant commander nodded slowly, a series of unreadable expressions moving across his striking features. “Does the bay suit you?” he asked.
Nearby, Gerta, the lieutenant commander’s assistant, and the carriage driver were watching us avidly. All they were missing was the popcorn.
“He’s lovely,” I nodded. “Lieutenant Commander Coventry,” I lowered my voice, “My clothing is much...fuller than what I am used to riding in. I fear I will not be able to mount without assistance.” I bit my lip in embarrassment. I could mount from the ground easily in jeans or leggings - but in petticoats? My skirt practically had a train.
A hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Lady Isabelle requires a mounting block,” he announced, eyes locked on mine all the while. By the time I managed to drag my eyes away from his, a block had appeared. “My lady.” He held out a hand, and I took it, aware of the dozens of onlookers. I knew from my cram sessions that a lady was never to raise her skirts in public, but fuck that; I needed to be able to safely clear the horse without getting my foot caught.
One foot in the stirrup, one hand on the reins; taking a deep breath, I gathered my skirts in my other hand, keeping a hold on them while grabbing the saddle before swinging up and seating myself - making sure that I had some layers of fabric between myself and the saddle. Because, if you remember, my sister absconded with all of my underwear and I was wearing a skirt.
Lieutenant Commander Coventry was staring at me, and there were murmurs from the onlookers. “Most extraordinary, my lady,” he intoned, turning to mount the grey gelding.
Pleased to have avoided humiliating myself, I adjusted the reins and started chatting with my steed. (Talking to horses was perfectly acceptable if you were riding them.)
To one side of the crowd, I suddenly noticed a trio of parasol-carrying women standing apart. It was hard to say why, precisely, but the pale, buxom redhead who was watching with a knowing little smile certainly caught my attention. She was the only person in the crowd focused squarely on me, with no interest at all in the Sea Wind or the lieutenant commander. For some reason, I did not think she was mesmerized by the fullness of my skirts, the richness of my bright and colorful silks, or my position astride a horse.
Unlike everyone else, that is. The crowd of onlookers and passersby had only grown, and in addition to the exploded wall, I was the centerpiece of attention.
“Are you quite comfortable, Lady Isabelle?” The lieutenant commander asked solicitously.
“Yes.” I grinned back at him. “This is the happiest I’ve been in days!”
It was arranged that Gerta and Thomas Charles (Lieutenant Commander Coventry’s valet, who was also a distant cousin), would ride in the carriage. We were about to depart when I gasped, turning the horse to find Gerta.
My guacamole! “The blue crock - I nearly forgot it. Will you please-” Gerta was holding out the crock in question. “Oh!”
“I knew it was important, Lady.” She grinned at me.
I sighed with relief. “Thank you. And the tailor - did you get the note to him?”
She nodded. “I mentioned your name and their maid let me in to put it in their basket.”
I thanked her and wished her a pleasant ride. From the corner of my eye, I felt the redhead and her crew still staring, whispering. Seventeenth century haters, I thought, reorienting myself in the right direction. Some things never change.
“What do you have there?” the lieutenant commander asked, looking after the crock in Gerta’s hand.
“It’s a surprise,” I said coyly, winking at him. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
He actually looked ruffled. This big, strong, sword-wielding soldier, and I was getting under his skin? I bit back a smile. “So, Lieutenant Commander - a tour of the island. What should I expect?”
He leaned forward and smiled. “Perhaps you’ll have to wait and see,” Lieutenant Commander Coventry replied.
I tipped an imaginary hat at him. “Touché,” I said, then mentally kicked myself. Thus far, Lieutenant Commander Coventry was the first and only person I’d interacted with of my supposed station, and I was sure I was going to botch it. I probably shouldn’t have done the hat tipping mime routine. Oh well. It wasn’t like I could travel back in time and redo it. A maniacal laugh started in the back of my brain. I told it to shut up.
“Shall we?” asked the handsome officer, pulling up beside me.
We set off slowly. I was getting acquainted with the horse; the lieutenant commander stayed at my side, keeping a watchful eye on me.
He seemed nervous about my positioning, but I felt completely at ease. Other than wondering about what Lieutenant Commander Blue Eyes was thinking.
I continued to feel my companion’s eye upon me from time to time, as if he wanted to make conversation but was at a loss for words; I had no idea what acceptable conversation was in these circumstances.
“How do you find your seat?” He asked after a bit.
“Wonderful, thank you.” I couldn’t stop smiling. “You cannot imagine how much this simple ride has improved my mood.”
He nodded. No - it was more like he inclined his head. It was subtle...yet different. A much classier version of yes. I noted how chiseled his jawline was. “I admit to amazement at how very natural you appear, my lady. Despite your unusual positioning,” he added.
Ah. The whole astride thing had been what fascinated him. “Well, I have been riding for most of my life,” I began, then trailed off. Would this sound too much like bragging? Or...was I supposed to brag?
“Yes, my lady?” His expression urged me to continue.
“I got my first horse when I was eight. Her name is Princess Jasmine, she’s a black Quarter Horse with white socks, and she’s wonderful.”
We spent a while engrossed in conversation about all things equine, and I found myself feeling practically languid. Horses, it seemed, were universal.
For the rest of our ride, I was able to carefully prod the charming officer into telling me about himself. He had grown up on an estate called ‘Avington’, had four living siblings, spent several of his childhood years with family in France, had gone to Eton, trained on a naval vessel under his uncle’s command, and currently spent his free time sketching and fixing up a small ship that he owned.
He got so excited talking about that ship, and watching his eyes light up with such intensity made my toes curl. What I did on my summer vacation: a gorgeous seventeenth century English naval officer (and gentleman). “May I ask how you ended up here?”
He paused, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully. “I’d always wanted the experience of living abroad, outside the oft rigid confines of England. When I was offered this post and promotion, it seemed like the perfect opportunity.”
“A bit of adventure?” He nodded. “I'm on a bit of an adventure myself.” That’s putting it mildly. “Nothing as virtuous as your military career, of course. Just a trivial little summer vacation.” Just a quick jaunt back several hundred years. No big deal.
“A lady like yourself, sailing for leisure?” His voice was nothing short of incredulous.
Shit. I must have fucked up. “Mmmhmm,” I murmured, looking straight forward. My guide was well-mannered enough to take the hint, changing the topic to our beautiful surroundings. Other than the horses, I had managed to keep from speaking about myself very much. Smile and nod, Izzy. I was an idiot. An idiot who was in over her head. How the hell was I supposed to smile and nod my way through an entire day with a high-ranking local? I had allowed hormones and exuberance to lead me to a stupid and possibly precarious situation.
Shit. I never had gotten my batteries.
“Lady Isabelle,” the lieutenant commander began cautiously. “May I ask you a somewhat personal question?”
“You may ask,” I replied noncommittally.
Another slight smile before he spoke again. “Are you married?”
I had not expected that question. “No. I’ve never been married.”
“Betrothed?” I shook my head, and he thought for a long moment before continuing. “Have you ever been in love?”
“Yes. I’ve been in love.” What a line of questioning this was, I thought. My turn. “How about you, Lieutenant Commander? Have you ever been in love? Or married?”
“My family and many others have attempted to marry me off. Many times,” he added, with a woeful shake of his head. “I have never been in love, however.”
“Really?” My eyebrows nearly left my face. “Never?”
“I have not had the pleasure,” he replied smoothly.
I was still trying to figure out what to make of things when he spoke again. “We are nearing our first stop, Lady Isabelle,” my handsome guide informed me, gesturing ahead.
“I do very much wonder what it is,” I said pointedly.
“Patience is a virtue,” he quoted at me. There was more than a hint of a smug smile on his face now. God, he was really good-looking. I resisted the urge to undress him with my eyes, letting them fall to the ground instead. Maybe that was why women from ye olden days were always described as doing things demurely - they dared not to let anyone see their eyes and what truths were held within. Windows to the soul, indeed.
“We have arrived,” the lieutenant commander declared. “If you would allow me?” I nodded and he pulled ahead slightly, guiding us to the right. The moment he stopped, Lieutenant Commander Coventry leapt down - but like, in a very dignified way - making his way over to help me down. The mounting block appeared again and this time I froze.
Fuck. Getting down was going to be far more difficult.
Lieutenant Commander Coventry held the gelding’s reins firmly in hand. “If I might offer some assistance, my lady?” His voice was low. I nodded, my cheeks warm. “You might unhook that foot and bring it around the front, under your skirts,” he suggested, and I’ll be damned if he didn’t have a bit of a blush over it. “Once both of your knees are together-” -his cheeks grew pinker, and he cleared his throat- “-you may turn, slide out from that stirrup, and step down onto the block.” He held his hand out in the most gentlemanly fashion.
“Yes. That seems wise,” I agreed after considering for a moment. Taking my time, I made the suggested movements, grasping his hand firmly once I was squarely on the block. “That was far more exciting than I’d expected it to be,” I confessed. That little smile was playing around the corners of his mouth while he stared down at me, making me nervous all over again. And tingly. He could probably hear my heart pounding from this close--
I nearly stumbled. I’d failed to take into account the additional skirt length while stepping down and only the strong arm of my guide had saved me from a most undignified face planting scene.
“Thank you.” I managed through a hot face. Hundreds of years in the future, I could feel my mother clutching her pearls in horror at my sudden gracelessness, but Lieutenant Commander Coventry was gracious as ever.
“Alright then,” I murmured, giving him a small, nervous curtsy before turning to untack my bay. I had barely undone the girth before my gorgeous tour guide spoke again.
“Lady Isabelle?” There was amusement in his voice, and when I looked up there was a young man standing in front of me. The carriage driver, waiting respectfully to take the horse.
“Oh,” I said intelligently.
“My lady?” His voice was timid.
“Of course, thank you.” I handed over the reins.
“My lady,” Lieutenant Commander Coventry offered his arm with a smile, gesturing with his other hand.
Beyond the horses was a lovely glade, full of greenery and wild flowers and dappled with sunlight. There was a blanket and a covered spread waiting, with Gerta and Thomas Charles setting up the final pieces. Oh my god, he had arranged a forest picnic, in a very pretty location.
“It’s so beautiful!” I exclaimed, gleefully clapping in what was probably a very unladylike manner.
I really wanted to run into the scene and roll around in the raw, natural beauty of it all, but my corset was a constant reminder of my enforced dignity. Perhaps Lieutenant Commander Blue Eyes would help me get this thing off and we could both roll around together.
I allowed the breathtakingly attractive officer to walk me around while I admired the setting in a sedate manner. Like one of the ladies from my stories. And like their literary counterparts, Lieutenant Commander Coventry held out his hand to help me lower myself to a seated position once I was ready. I felt a thrill go through me as our hands touched. ...This meadow would be a fantastic place for some afternoon delight. The lieutenant commander had long, graceful fingers, and a warm hand that gripped mine firmly. The touch was so inexplicably intimate, much different than when he had helped me with mounting and dismounting; I had to look down at the ground again. God, he was going to think I was simpleminded.
My mind started to whirl. Hands. Our hands had touched. My hands had also touched horses. And now we were sitting down to eat, with our hands, in the land before fucking time, and I hadn’t even thought to bring soap. Suddenly, all I could think about were diseases and bacteria and dysentery on the Oregon Trail. Gerta and Josefa-Maria seemed to think nothing of my ‘eccentricities’, but I had no idea how my insistence on thorough pre-meal handwashing would be perceived by others. My kingdom for a pocket-sized bottle of hand sanitizer.
“Lady?” When I looked up, Gerta was standing there with a small tray. There was a cake of soap, a bowl of water, and folded cloths.
“The water’s been boiled, cooled, and kept covered,” the lieutenant commander informed me. I was so fucking relieved, I could have cried - something my companion seemed to notice. “I took the liberty of inquiring with Mistress Anika as to your preferences and habits,” he explained, gesturing at everything.
I was touched by his considerateness. “Thank you very much, Lieutenant Commander. I was having the worst anxiety about all this wonderful food and not being able to clean my hands,” I confessed, making a nice lather. He smiled genially, then followed my example. “...What did you think of the report you were given?” I couldn’t resist asking.
“Unusual customs, but harmless,” he responded, handing me a small glass of wine, “and a curious palate.” He raised a glass to me, and I clinked mine against his.
Across the glade, Gerta and the young man settled onto the back of the carriage, waiting to be summoned.
“Lieutenant Commander Coventry...” I paused. God, it really was just. So. Many. Words. “Do you feel particularly inclined towards formality with me?”
“Not...particularly, no,” he replied cautiously. Again, I fought the urge to giggle. He seemed for all the world like I might be a notorious pickpocket, out to take his wallet.
I took a moment to consider him, as well as the words I wanted to say. “As I think we are becoming friendly, I would like to...level things between us somewhat.”
“Level things?” He looked at me, curious and intrigued. “In what way?”
“Well, as you must understand, we have a grave imbalance.” I gave him a playful smile. “‘Lieutenant Commander Coventry’ has nine syllables, while ‘Lady Isabelle’ has only five. I think that it would be far more equal if we were to call each other by our first names. When out of earshot of others, at least,” I added.
“Because,” he said slowly, “‘Ian’ has two syllables, and ‘Isabelle’ has three?”
“Exactly,” I replied brightly, sipping my wine.
He blinked at me. “It’s far from usual,” he said eventually.
“I do understand. I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but it is odd for me. Friends do not speak to each other so formally where I am from.” He gave me a slow, beautiful smile, inclining his head slightly. A good sign, I thought. “Are you any good at keeping secrets?” I whispered.
There was a mischievous gleam in his eye as he leaned forward. “I am an officer in His Majesty’s Navy...Isabelle.” Ian whispered my name, and I felt like we really were sharing a naughty secret.
I would have never imagined I could feel such a thrill from such a simple exchange. Undressing in front of him would have felt less intimate in this moment than hearing my name pass through his lips.
“Thank you, Ian.” His cheeks flushed a bit, and I wondered if he felt the same thrill I had. I let my laugh slip out then. “I feel much less encumbered. “I think reducing our formality will make this day much more pleasant.”
“I quite agree,” he smiled at me, “Isabelle.” Ian was really enjoying himself now.
We chatted about the beauty of our environment, and he kept my wine glass pleasantly full. I sat there, entranced by everything. The glade was beautiful and shaded, with gentle breezes that kept it comfortable...and of course, there was my guide.
“Ian,” I whispered, and he looked over at me. “This was so, so thoughtful. And incredibly kind of you. Thank you for arranging all of this.” Probably commonplace for him, but a wonderful and unique experience for me.
“You are enjoying yourself, then?” He asked me, gesturing at our surroundings.
“Very much so.” I helped myself to another slice of pear. “I hope you are, also?”
“I am. A great deal.” Ian nodded, then looked at me with a thoughtful expression. “I wonder - Isabelle - if you would have any objection to prolonging our time here? Instead of rushing off, perhaps we could save those sites for another time,” he suggested, smiling at me. “There are a number of charming locations that might be of interest to a lady such as yourself.”
Another time? I felt my toes curl up in my shoes. You charming motherfucker.
“Perfect,” I said, grateful that I had managed to get that word out without fucking it up. Ian summoned his valet over to relay the information to the driver, buying me time before I needed to attempt speech again. This place was amazing; I felt like I could stay here with him forever.
“That reminds me.” I brought the blue crock to the middle of the blanket; since we were staying put, there were no sense in waiting. “Surprise.” I set it in the middle of us and took off the lid. He stared at it in such wordless confusion and horror that I burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, you really should see your face.” Over at the carriage, Gerta and Charles were looking over at my outburst, and I pulled myself together. Lady Isabelle should be more restrained. “I take it you are not familiar with guacamole?” It was a simpler version of the recipe - apparently some of the locals thought tomatoes were poisonous? - but the soul of it was there. The avocados were superb.
“Is it food?” Ian’s expression had turned into one of curiosity, though the horror hadn’t wholly dissipated.
“It is food. And it’s delicious.” I spread some on a few pieces of bread. The bread here was crazy good. “You don’t have to try it if you don’t want to,” I said, “but I made it for you.” I tilted my head at him while I took a bite. “Mmm. It’s really gooood,” I added in a sing-song voice once I’d swallowed. No pressure, Ian.
Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind being baited a little. “Guacamole,” Ian said slowly, then took a tentative bite. He took another.
“Really, I won’t be offended if you don’t like it,” I informed him. “And you should know, it’s usually served as a dip for chips, not as a topping for bread.”
“What sort of ‘chips’?”
Oh. “Crisps?” Nothing. “A sort of thin, crispy little triangle,” I said, trying to show him with my hands. “Mostly used as a way to transport delicious things into one’s mouth.” I’d like to transport him--
Ian nodded at me thoughtfully, still chewing. “It’s rather good,” he said after a long wait.
I let out a quiet “yay”, mindful of our audience. I didn’t think Gerta would care very much, but Ian’s cousin was watching us very closely. “Wait - you’re not saying that to spare my feelings, are you?”
“Not at all.” He made another slice of it. “I am not under the impression that you are that delicate, Isabelle.”
“I think that is quite astute of you, Ian.” I raised my glass to him before draining it. He grinned at me while refilling my wine, and I swear, my heart skipped a beat. “Thank you,” I murmured. “I’ve been enjoying the books you lent me.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he replied. “Anything in particular?”
I paused. “I think I shall refrain from answering. I wouldn’t want you to think me ‘baudy’,” I said.
“I suppose I have earned that,” Ian laughed. “I nearly forgot,” he said, turning to reach behind him.
“Oooh!” I exclaimed, leaning forward slightly to look. “More books. Always a treat.”
“I thought perhaps we could read while we picnic,” he offered, carefully sliding the pile over to me.
He had brought books of poetry. I nodded happily, and started looking through them. Books of poems? This day was like something out of a storybook. Maybe one day, after we got home - and Anne got whatever mental help she needed - I could tell her all about it.
“Isabelle,” Ian said a short while later. “Might I share something with you?”
I put my book down. “Of course,” I said. I could come back to Astrophel and Stella later.
Ian nodded, then began to read, “When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes/ all alone beweep my outcast state.”
Oh my god, this sexy motherfucker was reading poetry to me in a medieval meadow with a sword strapped to his side.
He looked up at me when he was done. “Thank you, Ian. That was lovely,” I told him. It was much like the poems I remembered from school - except that having a really attractive Englishman read them to me made them a million times more interesting than listening to Sister Mary Monotone. I had never felt like I could have used a towel under me in English class, I thought, shifting slightly. “You have a beautiful voice,” I said. “I think I could be happy listening to you read anything.”
Ian blinked at me, his cheeks flushing. “That is kindly said of you,” he said quietly, then started reading another poem.
I spread guacamole over two pieces of bread, setting one near him and taking a bite from the other. I closed my eyes, letting the sound of his voice wash over me along with the flavor. Pure bliss. What I Did on My Summer Vacation, I thought. Not that I’d really be able to tell people. I opened my eyes once he stopped reading.
“I enjoyed that very much,” I said, meeting his gaze. “And the books, of course. I’m impressed by the bounty.”
He inclined his head gracefully. “I borrowed them from Lady Wallington.” Lady Wallington? I felt an unexpected sting, and tried not to feel jealous. I won’t tell you how well I succeeded. “That reminds me,” he said, suddenly sitting upright, “would you be available to join me for dinner two nights hence?”
“I’d love to,” I replied immediately. I hoped I wasn’t supposed to play hard to get.
“Marvelous,” Ian replied. “Lord and Lady Wallington are hosting a dinner that evening.” Shit. He meant dinner with other people. I contented myself with the fact that at least it was Lord and Lady Wallington. “It’s a monthly affair for all of note and status on this island.”
Fan-fucking-tastic. An established clique of nobility.
They were going to hate me.
“Oh.” I swallowed, and Ian looked at me curiously. “As you know...I am very new to the Somers Isles. I don’t quite know what to expect at this type of social gathering here.”
“Dinner and dancing are usual,” he replied, “and Lady Wallington mentioned that she was going to be centering things around her garden for this event.”
Dancing? My stomach stopped, dropped, and rolled. Why had I eaten so much?
Ian continued, while I tried not to look like I was screaming inside my head. “....and, in her own words ‘thrilled that I would finally take her up on my standing invitation to bring a guest’- Isabelle? Are you quite well?”
No. No, I am not. “I...I have a confession to make.”
Really, Izzy?
Yes!
This is a terrible idea.
This is the perfect opportunity to tell the truth. Now shut it.
“Oh?” Ian helped himself to a grape.
“It’s the dancing.” In for a penny... “I haven’t done a lot of...formal social dancing,” I began slowly. “I’ve been traveling for a while, and as you can imagine, we don’t dance on the boat, so I’ve only grown...worse. I imagine.” I clamped my mouth shut to stop the rambling.
“Really?” His eyebrows nearly left his face. Oh, that was bad. That was a tone that could only be called ‘how the hell is that possible’. Ian was staring at me with something akin to suspicion. “Surely you must have had formal training as a girl?”
“Yes,” I paused for a minute. This was harder to get out than it should have been. ...In for a pound. I plucked a few of the wildflowers at the edge of the blanket and attempted to find words.
“So you’ve never learned to dance-” Ian began, clearly trying to work through this unheard of failing.
I chuckled. “I didn’t say that. I’ve had lessons...I’m just not sure I’ll be up to date with whatever the others might be used to.” Up to date indeed. I wasn’t sure if any of the ‘traditional’ ballroom dances I knew had even been invented yet. “And dancing isn’t exactly my best skill,” I added. I wondered if I would have to fake an illness.
“Would you like to learn?” He shot me a charming smile, then finished his wine and set the glass down with a flourish. “I will commend myself as a passable teacher.”
Wait, what? “What- now?”
“The dinner is in two days.” Ian had already sprung to his feet, clearly enthusiastic. “I think this could be an ideal setting to practice dancing.” God. I should have stayed in my room. “Level surface, comfortable temperature,” he continued, tapping his boots to test out the ground.
A perfect place to humiliate oneself.... “Yes, alright. I suppose you’ve convinced me,” I said, taking a deep breath. He offered me his hand, helping me up easily. Charles and Gerta were looking over, likely in anticipation of being summoned, but Ian led me well away from them.
“We’ll have more room here,” he said. And privacy. I resisted the urge to stand on my tiptoes and kiss him. “We’ll start simple. There are a few dances the Wallingtons always have at these events.” He gave me an appraising look. “I think the basse danse first. We will need to hold hands,” he informed me, an impish glint in his deep blue eyes.
“Oh dear,” I replied, smirking at him as he took my hands. “Chaucer will be by any moment to write down our tale.” Although I made fun, I had to admit - this whole forced chasteness thing made everything more intense.
The basse danse was fairly simple, consisting mostly of gliding along while holding hands. Ian was an excellent dancer and teacher, guiding me through the steps with ease and patience.
“You move well,” he complimented me. “What shall we try next? What dances do you know?”
Mom had insisted that we learn the classics. “A fair number. But European dances? Pasodoble. Waltz.” I couldn’t think of any others that might make sense to him. Tango? Salsa? Rumba?
“Waltz? C’est parfait,” Ian said, pulling me into position close to him. I could feel the heat from his arm and hand around my waist, even through my many layers of clothing. Still - aside from the distraction of his proximity - this was easy. I knew how to waltz and I didn’t need to focus on it. We relaxed, and fell into conversation.
“Speak more Spanish to me. I’d like to hear the language from your – from your mind.” He was not about to say mind. His eyes were glued to my lips.
I wondered what to say and settled for the truth. I told him where I was born and when. I told him that I’d been brought here against my will, by my own sister who was suddenly a stranger to me. I told him how much I missed my mother and my friends. I told him how I should not be flirting with and possibly falling for a man my sister would classify as a ghost.
“Tell me what you said.” We were no longer dancing but remained touching. Neither of us were in a hurry to separate.
“I cannot.”
His eyes widened. “You do understand that only heightens my desire to know, yes?” He asked, looking down at me intently.
I rolled my eyes at him. “You do understand that you can’t have everything you want, Lieutenant Commander--”
With that, my dance partner unexpectedly tightened his grip around me, pressing us against each other. And there he was, with pretty much every inch of his firm, muscular body flush against mine. He felt amazing, and he smelled amazing, and he was staring down at me with those soul-piercing eyes of his, looking amazing, and it was all just too much.
I whimpered.
My entire body got ridiculously warm; I might have been visibly blushing.
“We’re going to try a slightly different version now,” Ian informed me. And that was when I realized that the lieutenant commander was totally checking out my boobs. They must have met with his approval because he kept looking. What a relief; he was flesh and blood after all.
Definitely didn’t help with how warm I was feeling, though.
“Isabelle,” he began, and I felt myself tense. “Tu es une beauté.”
Oh. I understood enough French for that. “Merci,” I replied, and we chuckled.
“I thought you did not have any French,” Ian said, raising an eyebrow.
“I don’t. That doesn’t mean I haven’t been exposed to it enough to pick up a bit here and there.”
He paused, then said “Je veux te toucher,” looking at me intently while we spun. “Te toucher partout.”
“I only understood the first two words.” That he had been saying something sensual was clear, however. And in French. I swallowed.
He smirked at me. “J’ai rêvé de toi.” Again, I didn’t understand his words, but the meaning was clear enough. When I finally dared to look up again, he was still looking down at me and there was a heat in his eyes.
“Ian,” I murmured. “You’ll set me on fire if you keep that up.”
The lieutenant commander’s cheeks turned pink, his eyes widened, and his handsome face split into a huge grin before he started to laugh. And continued laughing. Apparently my open brazenness was amusing.
“Are you quite well, Ian?” I asked primly.
He pulled himself together. “I am, thank you. Isabelle--” Ian stopped himself, and I got the strong impression that he had shifted gears. I wondered what he had been on the verge of saying. “Isabelle, I think we ought to try another. Perhaps a minuet...”
Ian whirled me around the meadow until I lost track of time and dance names. We were discussing the finer points of surviving on ship food when Gerta pointedly cleared her throat and I finally noticed that the sun had begun to yawn.
Damn. I gazed up at him. “Would you think me odd if I suggested we take the carriage back?”
“Whatever pleases you, my lady,” Ian said at once.
Dear Lieutenant Commander, would you be open to making out in the carriage on the way back? Maybe we could dry hump? I could imagine the look on his face. I bit my tongue to keep from laughing and went to see the horses.
“This was a very lovely day you prepared,” I said to Ian. We were sitting across from each other, and the interior of the carriage was nicer than I’d expected.
“It was my pleasure.” He inclined his head. “I’m honored that you were willing to spend the time with me.”
I played with the wildflowers I’d plucked. “I feel silly now, telling you I never learned to dance.”
“I imagine you have your reasons.” Behind Ian’s kind smile, I saw deep curiosity.
Careful, Izzy. “When I was seven, my parents and I were involved in a very bad car- carriage accident. Everyone said it was a miracle that I survived,” I found myself saying, and then I was telling him the whole story. Well, modified for my audience, but Ian was easy to talk to.
“My goodness,” he said, after taking a few moments to process. “What a thing for a child to undergo.”
“Yes. It was,” I agreed. “I was lucky to be adopted by a family that already loved me, and I gained a sister...” A sister who would later trick and abduct me into coming back in time. “And although it took some time, I did make a full recovery. It could have been much worse.”
Ian gazed at me in wonder. “A devastating carriage incident, adoption into a new family, overcoming infirmity at such a tender age, then losing your lord father upon the sea,” he shook his head. “I should like to see the remainder of your days filled with peace and ease, my lady.” He had no idea. “Your recovery was extensive, then?”
“Oh yes,” I confirmed. “Years of various procedures and therapeutic treatments.”
“Difficult to dance during such a period?” Ian said with a knowing look.
I chuckled. “I had to learn to walk all over again. So, yes, a bit.” I paused. I’d been so envious of Anne, winning award after award for ballet, tap, and what have you while I healed at what felt like a snail’s pace. “That’s not really a story I share with people this early in a friendship,” I added in an undertone, finally daring to look him in the eye.
His voice was quiet when he spoke again. “I am glad you shared it with me, Isabelle.” I nodded, feeling unusually shy, and he smiled. “And now I understand the additional restorative benefits you enjoyed from the horseback ride.” He frowned. “Particularly after the events of this morning.”
I blinked. I had managed to completely forget about the explosion and all of its ensuing drama. “Right. This morning.” This morning, when I had openly wept in front of strangers. So fucking smooth. “I wanted to thank you,” I said. “For your compassion. You were very kind to me.”
“It’s little wonder that you were distraught. It was quite a violent affair,” he replied. “I was relieved that you were safe on the other side of the building.”
“Safe.” I laughed wryly. “I didn’t feel safe. I was hysterical. I was beside myself. As I’m sure you noticed,” I added quietly.
Ian leaned forward, taking my hands gently. I shivered. He spoke to me in a calm, kind voice. “Isabelle, allow me to assure you. According to what I both observed and was told, you were upset, certainly, but you were hardly hysterical. You showed a great deal of presence. Présence d’esprit,” Ian said thoughtfully. His thumbs rubbed slowly across my skin. “Mistress Gerta told me that you were hidden and armed when she arrived to check on you.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “It’s a dangerous world,” I said. “I think it’s smart to be prepared.”
He nodded slowly, then tilted his head at me. “Smart,” Ian repeated.
Oh. Ummm.... “Wise?” Nothing. “Practical?”
“Ah,” he nodded. The United States and Great Britain are two countries separated by a common language. Adding a few centuries of difference wasn’t helping matters any. “I believe there is some information you ought to have regarding the events that transpired this morning.” Ian paused. “Your captain was involved in the explosion.”
“What‽” I shot up out of my seat, only to promptly realize that I was trapped in a carriage. I barely registered the alarm on Ian’s face - I’d been frolicking in a fucking meadow all day and Anne was hurt? I thumped back into my seat. “What do you mean ‘involved’? Is she alright? Please, what happened?”
He blinked at the onslaught of my questions. “I’ll have the full reports this evening. But from the initial accounts I received from the first men on the scene, she was the only one of the combatants to escape uninjured.”
“Did you see her yourself? Are you certain that she wasn’t injured?” Because I knew for a fact that she had started the day injured.
Ian paused. “I could not swear to it.”
I buried my face in my hands, overwhelmed, and for not the first time that day. Fuck. “I need to see her.” Where did that process begin? At home, I would have contacted our family’s lawyer and then paced anxiously while waiting for the phone to ring.
“I cannot allow that.”
I stared across the small space at him. Lieutenant Commander Coventry, officer in the Royal Navy. It hadn’t even occurred to me that he could grant me access to my sister. I sat up straight. “Whyever not?”
“It would be most inappropriate for a lady of your station to visit such a place.” He paused, frowning slightly before continuing. “Your captain was the one who set off the gunpowder.”
“My god,” I murmured, my shoulders slumping. Gunpowder. Of course. I should have realized that Anne was involved when I smelled the fireworks. And here it turned out she might have started the whole fucking debacle.
“In addition to causing the blast that took out a portion of the wall, your captain also kept a man impaled to a table with a knife for some time. I have also been told that she committed an especially distasteful act of violence against one of the other men involved in the fight.” I pressed my lips together, fighting the instinctive urge to defend her. Lady Isabelle of the seventeenth century was a different person than Izzy in the twenty-first. Then there was the small detail of Anne having nearly beaten Izzy to death less than a week ago. I kept my mouth shut. For once.
“Naturally, after such an occurrence, there is the matter of punishment. Everyone involved in the fight will be flogged and then released.”
“Flogged‽” I exclaimed, aghast. “You’re going to have her beaten? With- with a whip?”
He blinked at me as if I was the one being dramatic. “It’s the standard punishment for disturbing the peace in such a spectacular fashion.”
“You can’t be serious! That’s barbaric!”
Ian regarded me curiously, the way one might look at a young person who had only just realized that the world was full of evil. “Notwithstanding, it will not take place today. I will need to review all of the information first to ensure justice. In the meantime, I’ve found that it’s good to let them sit in their cells and contemplate the errors of their behaviours. Two, perhaps three days from now.”
What little I knew of flogging was bad enough. Anne managed to get us to Bermuda, but I had no idea what kind of shape she was really in - or if she would even survive such a harsh punishment.
“She’s the captain of my ship. I need her in good health.” I finally said.
Ian looked at me quizzically, sharp eyes cutting through my words. “Why do you wish her out so urgently? Are you intending to set sail again so soon?”
Shit. I didn’t know enough about how things worked here to feel confident in answering those questions. “She’s- she’s my captain,” I said lamely. It seemed like an extraordinarily bad time to tell him she was my sister, and I couldn’t very well tell him that she was my only way to get back to my own time, could I? “I need her.”
“You can hire a new captain, Isabelle,” Ian said, eyes narrowed. “Why is she so important to you?”
“I don’t want a new captain,” I said petulantly. I didn’t give a shit. I would never be able to get home without her. I shook my head. “Anne is my sailing partner, and I...I cannot leave this island without her. Also, I made promises to - her family that I would do all I could to keep her safe.” Mom. Oh god. What if neither of us ever made it home? “Please, Ian, there must be some other options for punishment. I implore you.” He gazed down at me, his face a mixture of interest and bemusement. I wracked my brain, trying to think. This was the sort of thing that Anne and I usually brain-stormed together. An idea occurred to me. “Instead of corporal punishment, maybe I could make restitution to the owner of the establishment? And...Perhaps you would be willing to commute her sentence? Say, a couple of weeks of imprisonment, instead of flogging?” I looked at him hopefully.
“Perhaps. I will admit, I disrelish the idea of having a woman whipped.” He frowned. “Even if she does wear trousers, and is, by all accounts, a troublemaker.” Ian tapped his fingers on his knee, deep in thought. “I shall need to review the reports. Barring any loss of life, I will take your request under advisement. The owner - Mr. Wilhelm - is Mistress Gerta’s uncle,” he added.
“Thank you, Ian. I appreciate that.” I rubbed my temples. An entire day of frolicking while my sister had been jailed. “I don’t wish to belabor the point here, but I am greatly concerned about her well-being. I won’t be able to rest until I know she is well.” I was imagining her breaking up rocks in a chain gang. Or maybe on a line making this era’s version of license plates. “Please.” I gave him my very best pleading face.
The lieutenant commander let out a sigh of deep resignation. “Very well, Isabelle. Tell me what you would have of me.”
Though Lieutenant Commander Coventry assured me that none of his soldiers were foul or vulgar, Ian had promised to only put his most honorable and trustworthy men on her watch. Upon our return to St George’s, he dispatched Thomas Charles to the fort with haste, under orders that a doctor be sent to examine Anne in her cell. I also convinced Ian to let me feed her. “It will be an expense that you - or rather, the Crown- won’t have to be responsible for,” I cajoled. And I would know that she was being fed properly. “Please let me do what I can to look after her.”
Ian held up a hand to slow me down. “I cannot make any promises - I will still need to review the reports, and ensure that there was no loss of life. I will be unable to render judgment before then. In the meantime, I will permit you to prepare something for her. However, you may not enter the area where the prisoners are kept. It would be most unseemly for a lady such as yourself.”
....I was supposed to be safely ensconced in my room, I suddenly remembered. “No worries. Actually...Perhaps you could just say that as a gentleman, you wanted to make sure she was fed?”
“I suppose,” he said, eyeing me inquisitively.
I twisted the rings on my fingers. “What am I to expect for her? I do not understand how things are usually done here.”
“This entire thing is far from usual, my lady,” Lieutenant Commander Coventry replied, shaking his head. “In the meantime, I can assure you that your captain will receive regular sustenance and will not be flogged. However, she will still need to serve a reasonable sentence for her misdeeds, you understand.”
“And what, pray tell, might a reasonable sentence be?” I asked, holding my breath. What were the odds that Lieutenant Commander Coventry would agree that Anne had served a sufficiently lengthy sentence by the time she and I planned to depart for home?
“As you have spoken on her behalf, a reduced sentence would not be unseemly,” he said thoughtfully. “Especially if you were to make restitution. Let us say, six months, including time served?”
“Six months,” I repeated dumbly as his words bounced around in my head. Six. Months. Half a year. One hundred and eighty days.
“Only as a personal favor to you, my lady.” He smiled as though he had bestowed a bounty of benevolence upon me.
Shit. Maybe he had.
“Yes.” I swallowed nervously. “Thank you for all of your help, Lieutenant Commander,” I managed. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
We stopped by the inn to pick up food for her. Two loaves of bread from Anika, the rest from my room - wine, the remainder of my hard cheese, and three apples. I cleaned out an empty wine bottle and filled it with fresh water before adding it to the rest of my delivery.
I hated that I didn’t have anything special to give her, but I had done the best I could. For now. I would keep working on the Lieutenant Commander.
Ian was speaking to two soldiers, who he promptly dismissed as I reemerged. When I presented him with my care package for his inspection, he had the nerve to look at me like I was being ridiculous.
“Three bottles of wine, Isabelle?” He smiled at me indulgently.
“Wouldn’t you want a drink in prison?” I shook my head. “Anyway, one of those is water. It’s safe,” I replied to his look.
“Water?” He looked perplexed. “Whatever for?”
To drink, duh. “She’ll want it. Trust me,” I said.
He shook his head slowly. “Your generosity of spirit is remarkable. I will allow two bottles, as well as half of the food. It’s quite excessive for a violent prisoner, you understand?”
Excessive? “No, not really.” I tried not to sound testy. Ian was the lieutenant commander and he was doing me a favor. “Things are very different where Anne and I are from. We feed prisoners there, for example. Three meals a day, for even the most violent and depraved murderers. It’s the law.”
He looked down at me in disbelief. “That sounds bucolic. The Crown, however, does not believe in pampering disturbers of the peace.”
Don’t roll your eyes, Izzy. Instead, I looked down at the ground. “I understand,” I said meekly, and clamped my mouth shut.
It was really, really hard.
“I hope you do understand, Isabelle,” he said, not unkindly. “I find your loyalty and compassion to this woman touching. But it would set quite the wrong example for someone who was engaged in such an event to be seen to be receiving preferential treatment.” Ian shook his head. Gosh, he could cut glass with that jaw. “Especially one who makes such a habit of frequenting our prison.”
What? I stared at him blankly. I must have misheard him. Or else I had been too distracted by staring at his face. “Pardon?” I said.
Ian gazed at me calmly. “I take it she failed to inform you that she's been a guest of this fort’s prison before? She even has a sobriquet, though I may not repeat it in your presence. Roughly, ‘Dangerous Female Captain of the Seven Seas’.” I blinked. I’d heard the street version already. “I thought I recognized her from a previous visit, and it’s just been confirmed.” He gestured at the pair of soldiers heading away from us. “The most recent time, she was arrested along with a few dozen or so other pirates and ruffians at an incident in Kings Bay. She was spoken for and released without punishment that time as well. There have also been other incidents. It appears she has no end of benefactors.”
No one wants another Kings Bay, Annie.
“Do you happen to remember when that was?” I asked, keeping my voice calm.
“Perhaps two years ago?”
“She is unbelievable,” I muttered under my breath. Diane Collette St. Germaine, a known associate of genuine, honest-to-God pirates. I closed my eyes, waiting for the rage that was flooding through me to dissipate. Un.Fucking.Believeable. So in addition to everything else, my sister had a reputation as a criminal - with the freaking British Navy. The offered six months was beginning to look more and more generous - especially when contrasted with the sentence she would have likely gotten at home. “My goodness,” I said finally. I needed some time to think. “Alright.” I took back a bottle of wine. “So...perhaps half today? And the other half tomorrow?” He nodded. “Thank you, Ian.”
“Not at all, Isabelle,” he replied softly. “One moment, my lady.” He motioned to his valet/cousin and handed over the items, speaking quickly. I was vaguely aware of the young man looking at me briefly in surprise before bowing, mounting the bay, and taking off.
So. If Anne was making license plates. at least it would be a process she was well familiar with. I sighed. For now, I had secured my jailbird little sister a pipeline of regular meals and respectable guards; I would keep working on Ian about the rest of it. I needed to get my sister home, where she could get competent professional help and rehabilitation. Continuing to make nice with the Lieutenant Commander could only help me keep my sister safe. I gave him a good society smile. I was on vacation, damn it, and it wasn’t like he’d gotten less hot just because my sister had gotten herself arrested. Again.
I held up the wine. “Would you like to go and drink this with me while we walk? If you still have time, I mean?”
“Your chaperone, Isabelle?” Ian gestured towards the inn. Right. Gerta. Ugh.
“In truth, my captain hired her to look after me, but - I’ve grown long used to my independence and I don’t enjoy having it curtailed. I am my own mistress.” I frowned. My god, I would absolutely die if I had to deal with a chaperone for the duration of my time on this island. “Let’s go sit someplace alone and drink wine.” He grinned, his eyes dancing with amusement. “I’ll tell her that I’ll be occupied in my room and I’ll send for her in a few hours.”
“We are quite devious, aren’t we Isabelle?” Ian winked at me. “Let us make a fine display of it, shall we?”
I walked in on Ian’s arm, made my excuses to Gerta at the bar (buying her another drink while I was there) and pretended to go upstairs. I actually went out the back door, where Ian was waiting.
“I told her I was going to take a nap,” I said, and Ian grinned at me.
“I know a good place,” he said, then led me there.
It was a wonderful place - an isolated little nook, partially obscured by scrub. Within was a wide boulder surrounded by wildflowers. Ian spread out a small blanket on the flat top, and there we were. A well informed guide, indeed.
Ian stared at the wine for a long moment. “We don’t have proper glasses.”
“I know.” I took the bottle from him. “Let’s live dangerously. We can add it to our list of secrets for the day,” I suggested. I took a very ladylike swig before handing it over to him, daring him with my eyes the entire time.
“It’s quite possible, Lady Isabelle, that you are a puckish influence,” Ian said before surreptitiously taking a sip.
“That’s the spirit, Lieutenant Commander.” We sat in companionable silence for a time, sharing the wine.
“Ian,” I said slowly. “I want you to understand. About why I asked for your help. With Anne.” I paused to gather myself. I was finding it strangely difficult to find my words. “She’s the only person I sail with, and we’re best friends. At least, I thought we were. Only, now I find out....that I don’t know her at all.” Ian nodded sympathetically. “And I don’t know what that means. How can you know someone your whole life, and then...” I trailed off. “I’m sorry for rambling. I just can’t believe her.”
“You’ve had a number of shocks today,” he replied patiently.
“I would be happy to speak of something else,” I offered.
Ian pondered, his eyes narrowed in thought. Sapphire, I decided. His eyes were sapphire blue. He straightened. “I am amazed that you have never been married. You must have had many suitors.”
What a non-sequitur. I blinked, my cheeks warming. “Perhaps? But none that were considered formally.”
“Still, for your family to not have arranged a match...” Ian narrowed his eyes. “I suppose you are well and truly your own mistress,” he stated thoughtfully.
“Things are different where I come from.” We have social media, dating apps, and bars... “Very different. It’s a woman’s own decision - who, or when, or if she wants to marry at all. Not that there aren’t some social pressures,” I conceded. That was actually really gross, once I said it aloud. “But arranged marriages aren’t the standard in my country.”
“Yes,” he nodded thoughtfully. “How do marriages usually work, then?” Ian shook his head with wonderment. “The Kingdom of California sounds like a very different sort of place.”
I blinked. It would take some time to get used to hearing home referred to that way, but I was comfortable with my decision. Here in 1649, Maryland was already a colony, and it seemed far too risky. I’d spent a number of years in the real California for college, and it had come to me naturally enough. Even with my limited memory of history I knew the state hadn’t been established yet. Still, I bit back a smile at hearing ‘The Kingdom of California’ innocently roll from his aristocratic mouth. “It’s fairly simple. You get to know each other, go on dates and--”
“Dates?” His elegant eyebrows knitted together.
“You don’t have dating in England?” I asked stupidly. Duh, Izzy. You know this. “Dates are...well, spending time together in an enjoyable manner. Walks, or dinner...” I paused, trying to think of what people did here. It was hard to get my thoughts straight with him staring at me so intently.
“Would this be considered a date, Isabelle?”
My face grew warm. “I-- uh, well, yes, I believe it would count.”
He nodded with satisfaction. “Would you please continue? I am most eager to hear more of your kingdom.” I nodded - but how was I supposed to think with him looking at me like that? “You were speaking of the way things proceed between couples?”
“Yes.” I took a healthy sip to get my thoughts in order. “Dating. The process of getting to know each usually goes on for some time before a couple decides they want to marry.”
His elegant face was full of shock - and something else I couldn’t read. “Do you mean to say, for love?”
“Customarily, yes,” I nodded. Probably best to leave out the tax breaks, premarital children, health insurance and such.
He turned to look me in the eyes. “Do you believe that your family would truly allow you to make those choices on your own?”
“Of course.” I laughed. “They certainly wouldn’t try to make them for me. I’m not easily forced into things.”
“I would believe that with ease,” he murmured.
The wine was gone, the stars were out - and I had extracted a promise from Lieutenant Commander Blue Eyes to check on my captain. As we strolled back to the inn, my thoughts fell on time travel and piracy, and again I wondered why had Anne brought me here? Right here, to 1649? I looked up at my elegant tour guide, suddenly aware of his gaze.
“I am very fond of you, Isabelle,” he said, holding my hand in his.
I grinned at him. After a quick look around, I gave him a kiss on the cheek. Lord, he looked as shocked and pleased as if I’d put his hand on my boob.
“Good night, Lieutenant Commander,” I said as a trio of night fishermen rounded the corner, heading for the pier.
“Good night, Lady Isabelle,” he returned, giving me an elegant bow.
He really did have the most lovely voice and manners.
That night, as I prepared for bed, I thought over the day. Lieutenant Commander Ian Alexander Coventry. Everything related to him seemed blissful. Of course, before I could make it to sleep, my mind drifted to the small matter of the hole my sister had put in the wall. As well as the little thing about the men she had viciously injured. Allegedly. There was also the wee issue of her consorting with pirates... and a six month sentence - if I could get something worked out for restitution. I didn’t even know where to start.
I growled into the pillow before punching it; I couldn't even enjoy a good day without worrying about Anne. “And to think I was worried about things feeling unfamiliar here,” I muttered to myself. Of course Anne was in trouble. What did one expect from hanging out with troublemakers? I resolved to put my criminal sister from my mind for the time being. I had arranged with Anika to have food sent to her each day - there was nothing else I could do until I spoke with Ian again.
I wanted to think about Ian. “Okay,” I murmured to myself, closing my eyes again. “Lieutenant Commander Ian Alexander Coventry.”
It really had been such a splendid day that he had put together. A horse drawn carriage to a picturesque forest setting, complete with food and dancing. That these things were far more standard here took away none of the pleasure for me; I appreciated the amount of effort he had so clearly put into making me happy. “I probably shouldn’t have talked about my childhood so much,” I mused. But he had been interested, and it was so easy to talk to him. Less alcohol would have helped. Still - an attentive, gracious, striking man, who somehow didn’t seem put off by my oddness and wanted to hear more about me? It was practically a truth serum. With limits, luckily. I would have to be more careful in the future.
