The Master of Ships by Naomi Finley

Author:Naomi Finley [Finley, Naomi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Novella Two
Publisher: Huntson Press
Published: 2019-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Isabella

SILENCE ENCOMPASSED US LIKE A dense fog as we left London behind. The open fields of the countryside breathed air into my compressed lungs, and I eased the horse to a trot. My insides still trembled from the run-in with Charles.

My stomach had danced and clenched in unison at the sight of him. The years had powdered his blond locks with threads of silver, and fine wrinkles had formed around his lips and the corners of his eyes; the hard line of his jaw and the sharp ache mirrored in his eyes were unchanging. I’d thought, with the years apart, the hold he had over me would’ve eased, but one look into his eyes had stirred all the emotions I’d fought years to evict.

When I’d first met him I’d been terrified; he had a frightening presence, with his serious face and eyes that dissected your thoughts, invading your darkest secrets. The week we’d spent together in his townhouse after he found me in the alley had turned into something neither he nor I could ever have expected.

The evening I crept down the corridor to thank him for his kindness and to inform him I was leaving, I’d found him sitting in the parlor. A snifter of brandy gripped in his hand, he’d stared into the mesmerizing flames of the hearth. The demons that pestered him were ever present, and he’d raised the snifter to his lips and emptied the amber liquid.

I’d stood on the threshold, pondering the man whose eyes hooded with the darkness blackening his core. Sensing my presence, he’d looked up with inebriated eyes. Fear gripped me, but to my surprise he’d not become angry. Instead he’d beckoned me to take a seat in the armchair next to him. Too afraid to disobey, I’d sidled over to it.

Hands clasped tightly in my lap, I’d lifted my gaze. His eyes held a profound sadness, something I’d mistaken for hardness. Unsettled under his stare, I dropped my eyes, swallowing back the nerves gathering in my throat.

Maybe it was his loneliness, or another day of submerging his pain in drink, or perhaps the fact he thought he’d never see me again that made him decide to share with me what taxed him. And maybe it was out of fear or building curiosity over what tortured the handsome foreigner that I listened.

He told me of his wife and her love for his brother and the babe conceived from that love. That night, I gave Charles what he required most—friendship and a listening ear. He’d given me sanctuary, and I owed him that much.

During the following days together, he asked of my life and my master, and I believed he found a distraction in doing so. For if his mind was occupied, he didn’t have to think of things at home. While we talked, he looked me in the eye and nodded in agreement with my answers to his questions. Until then I’d never been regarded as human by anyone except for my mother and, for the first time, I felt alive.

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