Chapter 28

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

J ulian watched Ester as she ascended the steep, swaying staircase of rope and wood, each step carrying her farther from him. Yet every glance she cast over her shoulder felt like a caress, a silent touch that lingered on his skin. It was maddening. He closed his eyes briefly, longing to be free of that pull, to shake loose the chains she wrapped around his heart with every look. But even as he wished for release, he knew it was futile. Forgetting her was impossible. Worse, it warred against the deepest desires of his soul.

"Your Grace?" Harper said, diffidently.

Julian blinked, pulled back to the present, to the rain-soaked deck beneath his feet. Harper had already risen, and they were the last to board. The boat rocked slightly as Julian stood.

"We might still take another ship. Take lodgings here in Bristol..." Harper suggested.

"No." The word came out firm. Julian wanted the journey behind him, the sooner the better. The end of this chapter, the beginning of his exile. Until they reached Windermere, there was always a risk—an accident waiting to happen.

"No," he repeated as he stood. "There have already been far too many deaths. Too much blood on my hands. The sooner we are at Windermere, where I can be alone, the better."

Harper nodded as though expecting the answer. He was uncomplaining, even though he would be sharing Julian's exile. Julian stepped onto the flimsy wooden platform that was attached to the base of the stairs, refusing the offer of help from a crewman.

"It is not too late for you though, Harper," Julian said as he gripped the railing. "You do not have to share my exile. You are a young man still."

"I will share it, Your Grace. I have much to atone for. This shall be a suitable penance."

Julian left it at that. This was not the first time they'd had this conversation. Harper had made up his mind, it seemed. Julian would not gainsay that resolution. His gaze drifted upward. Ester had boarded and was lost to sight. He felt a pang of regret which he quelled with brutality. There was no place in his heart for regret. He did not deserve to miss the sight of her, for seeing her meant that she was at risk. An accidental touch might end her life instantly, as it had done for Napier.

Putting his head down, Julian concentrated on each step as he climbed the suspended wooden planks to reach the deck. The ship's boards were slick with rain, the wet wood glistening under the muted lights. The sailors moved with an easy grace, bare feet sure as mountain goats on treacherous cliffs, while Julian took his steps cautiously, each movement deliberate.

A uniformed officer approached, then gestured down a ladder and pointed him along a companionway. "Last room on the right, Your Grace. My own quarters, Captain Anderson at your service."

The captain extended his hand in greeting, but Julian kept his gloved hands firmly clasped behind his back.

Captain Anderson had the hard, lined face of a man who had seen his share of hard wind and sun on the high seas. But even he blanched after one glance at Julian's face.

"We can find our way, Captain, thank you. I am sure you have other duties to attend to. We shan't keep you," Harper stepped in diplomatically.

The captain inclined his head and indicated which cabin Harper had been assigned, a room next to Julian's. Julian descended the steep staircase that the captain had called a ladder and strode along the narrow, low-ceilinged companionway to the end. Opening the last door on the right, he saw that the captain's cabin seemed to occupy the width of the ship at its stern, with a row of mullioned windows at one end. The bed was built into the wall and a table stood at the cabin's center, bolted to the floor, as were the four chairs around it. A cabinet against one wall held rolled charts and leather-bound journals.

Julian dismissed Harper, freeing him for the rest of the journey, though Harper promised to return to serve him dinner late. Alone, Julian stripped off his drenched ulster, tossing it across the back of a chair where it dripped onto the scrubbed boards below. As he lay back, eyelids shutting briefly—his head resting against the damp wall, the faint sound of voices reached him.

Female voices.

He could not make out words, but there were definitely two distinct voices. They sounded as though they were immediately outside his door. Rising cautiously, he neared the door, stopping short and listening. The screech of a door closing, followed by Helen's unmistakable voice, became clear, though muffled by the walls. She was talking to Harper. Then sounded two sets of footsteps walking along the companionway in the direction of the ladder to the deck.

He realized what this meant. That Ester and Helen had been assigned a cabin next to his own, across the companionway from the one assigned to Harper. Helen had left. Was Ester alone in her cabin?

His heart fluttered as he caught the soft rustle of movement through the walls. It came from the same direction as the voices had originated from. The cabin across from Harper's. With careful steps, he shuffled to the wall on that side of his cabin until he was close enough to press his hands against the aged wood. Then the side of his face. As his ear came into contact with the wood, he heard the sound of breathing. Followed by quiet sobs. They were so close that it was as though she were in the same room.

He spoke her name before he was consciously aware of it. " Ester ."

Instantly, he pulled back, furious at his own weakness. He strode to the window, looking out over the leaden waters of the Severn.

"Julian?" came Ester's voice from the other side of the room.

He closed his eyes, gripping the window frame until he felt the wood beginning to bow under the pressure of his fingers.

"Julian? Please..." Ester implored again.

Julian squeezed his eyes tight shut. Outside, the rain had ceased. It left an almost oppressive silence in its wake. Another sob echoed from Ester's room and the soft sound of a hand slapping against the wood. He felt the pull of her presence, wanted to go to her. Wanted to be apart from her, for her own protection. With a sudden burst of violent motion, he turned and rushed across the room. His body slammed into the wall, hands flat against it, forehead hard against the wood.

"Ester," he whispered, voice ragged.

"I'm here," she answered hoarsely.

"My heart cannot be without you. But my head... it tells me I must set you free," he choked out.

"I don't want to be free," she muttered, her voice fierce despite the tears. "If death is the price I pay to touch you, then let me die."

"No!" Julian snapped. "You are the fairest of roses. A bright star in a world of darkness. I would not have that star snuffed out. Not for my sake."

"Let me show you that you are wrong!" Ester pleaded, "And if I cannot, then let me live by your side, as your wife, but without your touch. It will be unending agony but it is desirable to never seeing you again."

"My love, do not ask it. I am weak… I am only holding my resolve by the thinnest of threads."

"Then I will break that thread!" Ester insisted. "I do not care. I will free you of this superstition. I swear it."

"You cannot," Julian whispered, his voice tinged with despair.

"I can and I will! Let me try," she pressed, "I will beg if I must. I will strip away any dignity to which I have been clinging and fall on my knees before you. I will crawl after you from Liverpool to Windermere even though the road is strewn with stones. Please, Julian!"

Julian felt the wetness of his own cheeks, felt the salty tears carving paths through skin made damp by rainwater.

"I cannot! I cannot! I cannot!" he whispered hoarsely, battling with his own soul, with a desire that seared him.

A soft sound reached him and then Ester's voice came from lower.

She fell to her knees, with a soft thump, in the narrow space between the beds placed against either wall of her cabin. She pressed her hands to the wall that separated her from Julian, fingers pressed into the unyielding timber as though she could press through it to reach him.

"Julian, when you found me, I was living a half-life in twilight. I did not think I could ever find the light again. I thought myself forsaken, abandoned to fight a wicked man alone to protect my family. It was too much. The burden was too heavy. You saved me. Do you understand? You saved me. I felt the light touch me. You lifted me from dark water and gave me life. Let me lift you out of your darkness. I beg you!"

Julian, too, dropped to his knees and pressed his face against the wall closest to the place where he heard Ester's voice coming from.

"I could not bear to see you wither and die under my hand. Don't you see? It is all true. Everything my father claimed. My hands have taken many lives since I left Loughton Grange. There is no way out of the pit for me. No way out of the dark, but I will not drag you down here with me. I want you to live a good life. Live as much of it as I have left you. Live it to the full. See the things that I will never see. Perhaps in the whatever follows this life, we will meet again and be free of this darkness that follows me..."

Julian rose slowly, pushing himself away from the wall. Ester's voice gradually grew more distant. He turned away and walked to the window, staring out at the water.

"Julian!" Ester screamed at the top of her lungs.

She slammed the flat of her hand against the timber. Again. Then again. Pain stung her hand. But she didn't care. She clenched her fist and slammed it into the wall, sending spikes of pain from her knuckles, down her arm. She drew back her hand to strike once more but a strong grip suddenly seized her. She fought blindly, knowing only that she needed to get through the wall that separated her from Julian.

Break it down, break through it. She had to reach it.

"Let me go! Let me go!" she cried.

But the grip was as strong as steel and she could not tear her hand free. Looking down, she saw fingers around her wrist. Fingers that were sheathed in black leather. Her eyes shot up to the face.

Julian.

His eyes were red-rimmed. His face was tight with torment, mouth drawn into an unbreakable line. It was the face of an ascetic, resolved to endure suffering. But as she looked at that face, looked into his eyes, she saw the stoic resolve crumble.

"I cannot," he whispered, "I cannot... stay away. God damn me. Hellfire claim me for my selfishness but I cannot stay apart from you."

With a savage pull, he crushed her against his chest, arms enveloping her like iron bands as she sobbed desperately into his clothes. Her tears spilled freely, and she buried her face there, her fingers grasping desperately at his shirt, knotting in the fabric as though anchoring herself to him. She trembled, afraid—terrified—that he might change his mind, might leave her again and abandon her to that cold, numb void he had left behind before. Just then, she swore to herself—no power in heaven or hell, no force on earth, would ever pry her from him again.

The leather of his gloves slipped beneath her hair to trail a tender path along the nape of her neck, around to her cheek. She looked up, reaching for his hands, and tried to strip the barrier away.

"No, my love," Julian murmured, his voice softer now. "Not that. I cannot. Not ever."

It was as though the storm of his emotions had passed. His voice was calmer now. He stilled her movements, holding the glove tightly in place with his other hand. No amount of pulling or prizing could shift his grip—despite her frantic attempts.

At last, Ester relented, her breaths coming fast in shallow gasps. They knelt together, face to face. She wound her arms around his waist, pressing her breasts flush against the unyielding planes of his chest. Her face tilted upward, lips parting in a silent, breathless plea for more—more of him , more of everything .

Julian's mouth came down on hers, tentative at first, as though afraid she might break beneath his touch... but it was not enough. She could not bear gentleness . Not now .

With a desperate moan, she shifted into his lap, straddling him, her knees digging into the floor as she ground her hips against his thigh. Her kiss turned feral, her tongue plunging into his mouth, tasting him, claiming him with an urgency that made them both gasp. She bit down on his lip, the sharp pinch drawing from him a deep, guttural groan that sent a pulse of heat down to her core. She craved more, much more.

Her hands flew to his waistcoat, tearing it open with rough, impatient movements. Buttons popped, fabric strained, but she didn't care. Her fingers found his shirt, tugging it free, her hands immediately sliding beneath it. Her nails raked across the bare skin of his chest, feeling the hard muscle rippling beneath her every touch. Her hips rocked harder, the friction of his hardness pressing against her belly, making her cry out against his mouth.

Julian's hands drifted lower too. His fingertips dug into her rear, pulling her tight against him. She pressed her forehead against his, her breath ragged as her hips ground more urgently against his solid thigh. His mouth found her throat and she gasped, arching her back like a contortionist.

The moment was over too soon as they heard footsteps and Helen's unmistakable excitable tone coming along the companionway. Julian jerked back, looking towards the door as he made to draw up his buttons. He looked to Ester who grimaced, then allowed him to help her to her feet with his other hand. Once standing, she gripped his hand, squeezing hard.

"I have been a victim for too long. Allowing circumstances to happen to me. Reacting to the whims of others. Including you. I will not do it again. I will take charge of my own life and I will have you in it," she muttered stubbornly. "The pain I felt at losing you is one that I never wish to experience again. I would have torn this vessel apart if I had the strength. Just to reach you. I would have beaten my hands bloody..."

"You did," Julian whispered gently.

He lifted her left hand and Ester gasped at the sight of reddened knuckles. The skin had been broken over his first finger. Julian lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed the grazed skin, as tenderly as if he were kissing a babe.

"Oh... oh my!" Ester exclaimed in horror.

She looked at the wall, expecting to see splintered wood. There was no sign of her assault except her own splintered flesh. A mirror of her life. The door suddenly opened.