A shocking revelation has heady consequences (mf)
They were finishing breakfast in the cockpit the next morning, freshly bathed and sleepily blissful, when it came. The hairs upon the back of Liam's neck rose and his hand froze holding the upraised mug.
Wind.
He looked at Anya and saw a stray lock of hair stir over her ear. At the movement her drowsy eyes suddenly focused, opening wide and meeting his. A distressed expression crossed her face.
Setting down the mug, he checked the compass and stepped onto the cockpit seat. Across the surface of the water, cat's paws glinted in the morning sun. Wind at last, so it was. He had known that his paradise with this darling lass could not persist forever, but had not wanted to think on it. He felt a twinge in his gut at the sudden looming prospect of returning to everyday life.
"It looks like we'll be able to sail," he said in a matter of fact tone. She stared out at the water, but offered no remark; she nodded subtly.
They carried the breakfast items below, where Liam with a growing unease reviewed the chart and plotted a course to Toronto based upon the wind direction.
Back upon deck, he had her hold the wheel while he raised the sails, finding satisfaction at least in the smooth working of the repaired block and the harmonious contour of the patch upon the jib. He set the harpoon log, then returned to the cockpit to take the wheel, adjusting the course by the compass.
Anya sat upon the cockpit coaming. They both looked out over the water for some time without speaking --- the silence tense.
Liam assessed the
Selkie's
speed and leaned to look down into the cabin at the clock on the bulkhead. "'Tis a fair wind we have, but none too brisk," he said. "If it holds, we'll make the north shore, but we canna make it to Toronto before nightfall. There be a cove where we can anchor overnight. Tomorrow 'twill be a short sail to Toronto." He gave her a searching look, emphasizing
Toronto
ever so slightly.
Again her nod of tacit agreement upon the destination; her eyes rested briefly upon his with a troubled air before returning to the lake. For some time, there was only the sound of the water and the occasional creaking of sheets. Anya was fiddling with the end of the mainsheet, wrapping it round her hand. By and by she turned towards him. "Liam?" Her voice was small and hesitant. "The song you sang about the fisherman and the selkie maiden...?"
"Aye, lass?"
"Will you tell me the story?"
He smiled at her, nodding and sitting back upon the cockpit coaming, holding the wheel steady with his foot. He sang the ballad a verse at a time, translating the Gaelic as he went. "A lonely fisherman one evening after a day upon the sea is tying up his boat, when he suddenly sees a seal come out of the water onto the rocks and shed its sealskin, turning into a beautiful maiden—'tis a selkie. He watches her dancing upon the beach, and falls deeply in love with her. Then she spies him, and stares back at him. But when he approaches her, she runs for her sealskin, turning back into a seal and swimming away."
He paused to trim the jib sheet.
"Every day after that he returns to the beach searching for her, and looks for her when he is fishing during the day --- but he canna find her. Till one day whom should he see but the selkie maiden sitting upon a rock near the village --- crying. She does not flee when he nears. He asks her why she weeps and she replies that she had been caught in the net of another fisherman --- a fisherman who decided to keep her for himself and had hidden her sealskin to keep her captive."
Anya's big eyes gazed at him in rapt attention.
"The hero seeks out the rival fisherman and challenges him to a duel, demanding the return of the selkie's coat. They fight with their knives and the hero bests him, winning the sealskin. Although his heart be breaking, he returns it to the selkie...she kisses him, jumps into the coat, then vanishes into the sea.
The love stricken fisherman goes on with his lonely work. Then one day at sea, he sees in wonder the selkie maiden alongside his boat, beckoning to him. He pulls her aboard where, to his joy, she confesses her love for him and gives him her sealskin. They marry and live, as they say, happily ever after."
Anya regarded him, looking a bit forlorn. "What a lovely story," she said quietly. Her lashes fluttered as she blinked a few times, then added in a more dispassionate tone. "The Gaelic is so pretty to listen to." He watched her fingers slowly knot and unknot the end of the mainsheet. Her gaze drifted out over the water.
They lapsed into silence again. Liam rechecked the clock, his sense of unease returning as he saw how much time had slipped away.
Presently Anya stirred, and commented that she wished to try to finish
Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea
before she had to relinquish the book. She enquired whether he needed anything, and upon his negative reply, went below and came back up with the book. She gave him a melancholy smile and went forward to sit upon the foredeck.
For the next couple of hours, she remained forward while Liam kept the helm, brooding. "
Before I have to relinquish the book"
she had said. After the profound events of the past two days, was she simply going to step onto the dock in Toronto and vanish from his life? What the devil had happened between them? He had never felt this way about a lass before...had never before felt the incomparable happiness of a lass loving
him
--- for himself. He could not stand by and let her go.
As the
Selkie
cut through the water, his disquieted gaze made the rounds of the sails, the water, and the compass, then returned to Anya --- the back of her head visible above the cabin top. By and by, when he leaned to check leeward of the boom, he realized that upon the jib was a small telltale stain from their act of love upon deck yesterday. His heart and body surged at the sight, reinforcing the plan that was brewing in his mind.
Eventually he saw her stand and make her way aft. Now accustomed to moving about the boat, her motions in the lad's costume were sprightly, a joy to behold --- a sweetly provocative reminder of the nimble female body underneath. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes bright from the crisp breeze; her dark hair blew about --- he thought her the most ravishing creature. His heart swelled.
"Hello," she said, stepping lightly into the cockpit. "Would you like me to take the wheel for a while?"
"Nay, love."
"May I fetch you anything?"
He shook his head, smiling. "Did ye finish the book?"
"Not quite. It appears I may not finish in time."
"I've been thinking..." he began. "Ye needn't worry about finishing the book."
She looked at him bemused. "Oh no, Liam. You are not going to give me the book. I know how much trouble you've taken to collect your treasures."
"Nay. That's not what I'm on about. Will ye sit Anya?" He nodded his head at the cockpit seat. She sat and turned towards him. He stood holding the wheel, looking at her intently.
He cleared his throat. "I've been thinking...something has happened...well...I've sailed nigh all the seas of this globe and never found what I've been seeking --- till this voyage. I dinna ken what miracle brought ye to my boat...were I a religious man I'd be thanking God every day for that gift. What I'm trying to say is...I love ye Anya, I love ye more than I can put into words. I want to take care of ye...I'm asking ye if ye will marry me."
The flash of emotions upon her face was startling, and so fleeting that he could not quite parse what he had seen: joy or was it despair? Now however, as he looked at her, her face was blank. She turned her head and looked over the water. "I cannot marry you," she said, her voice flat.
Of all the possible reactions he had anticipated, this was not among them. "Ye canna marry me?" he repeated.
For several moments she simply sat with a faraway expression, holding the book in her lap. There was only the sound of the water spray along the hull, and he grew tenser with each passing second.
At last she spoke, her voice dull, defeated. "There was more to my stepfather's ultimatum. To force my decision, he threatened to harm my younger brother Nicholas if I did not choose him or Mr. D--- by my birthday, or if I ran away. Nicholas is in a military academy near Toronto. My stepfather told me that he sent his henchmen to watch the academy and prevent any communication from reaching Nicholas. He said that upon a single word from him, these men would kill him or anyone who intervened upon his behalf. Indeed, when I wrote my aunt of this, she tried to send Nicholas a telegram but it was not received."
Liam stared. "Jesus, lass! You've run away...how do ye ken your brother is unharmed?!"
Her fingers trembled. "I pray that he is. The one stroke of fortune is that Nicholas' class is out in the field for a skirmish drill and will not be back in the school until next week. His exact whereabouts are presently unknown."
"Then there be time to rescue him. How stands this in the way of marrying?"
She shook her head, opening and closing the book over and over. "You don't understand. When my aunt could not reach Nicholas, she turned to a friend of my uncle for help. This friend is a powerful man in Ontario --- a minister in the cabinet --- and he is on the board of regents of my brother's academy. He offered his assistance; he said that he can rescue Nicholas...and... he offered to marry me."
Liam's eyes blazed.
"I...I accepted his offer," she finished in a small voice.
A burn spread over his body. His grip tightened upon the wheel. He stared at her. "You're engaged to be married," he stated in a toneless voice.
Her nod was almost imperceptible; she did not meet his eyes.
"You're engaged to be married --- to a man who barters your brother's life for your hand?"
She looked at him at last, clearly upset. "It is not like that! Mr. Strachan is a kind man who is only offering the power of his position to help my brother, and protect me from my stepfather."
He went still. "Mr. Strachan? Douglas Strachan --- that cabinet minister?"
She nodded. "Do you know of him?"
He felt numb; his gut lurched. Strachan! Oh he knew of Strachan --- only by reputation --- but as a villainous bastard. He was the owner of the largest shipping and passenger fleet upon the Lakes, and used his power as commerce minister of Ontario to pass laws and set levies to drive out his competitors' ships. When unable to use legal means to further his ends, 'twas widely held among sailors that he resorted to criminal acts including scuttling and setting fire to ships, beatings, and even, 'twas rumored, murdering other ship owners.
If Liam had escaped Strachan's notice so far, 'twas only because his business with the
Selkie
was too small to be a threat to him. And now Liam was after deflowering the fiancée of the one man who could ruin his future business...if he didn't kill him first.
