The Jezebel (Taskill Witches 3)

“We woke the lad from his slumber after she’d gone,” one of the other men added, “and an unnatural sleep it was, too. He remembered her being there and thought it a dream. When we asked him about it, he remembered nothing of his hand being fixed, but said he dreamed he was in a beautiful place. He’d felt the sun on his face and warm grass at his back, and he wanted to stay and sleep there.”

“Dream?” another man stated. “A nightmare is more likely, if she is what you say she is.”

Roderick sighed again. How quickly the whispered suspicions grew into so much more than what they first appeared.

Brady’s frown grew. “We had to reassure Adam that it was not a dream. It took some amount of rum for him to be able to rest.”

Roderick’s patience was wearing thin. “If he hadn’t had so much rum the previous night the lad wouldn’t have been so reckless in the first place.”

He glared at his crew. As he looked over the crowd, he noticed that Clyde was there, but said nothing. He was the one who’d started this speculation about Maisie, and yet he was observing the other men while remaining silent. Roderick wondered what thoughts were in his mind.

That could wait. His first responsibility was for the safety of the ship, and for that he needed the men content.

He took his responsibilities seriously, and he was concerned on many fronts. The young Dutchman should likely have been given a bit more responsibility earlier, for he’d grown bored and hotheaded doing laundry and peeling potatoes. Moreover, Roderick now felt he should have supervised the tending of Adam’s injury himself, then all this nonsense would have been put to rest. Most worrying of all, he felt the wild urge to put up his fists when anyone made suggestions about Maisie’s good intentions. That was no way for a ship’s captain to act, and yet he could not help himself. It was because she was his responsibility, as well. As captain, that was the way of it. Reasoning with himself, he paced up and down.

“I order you back to your duties. I will quiz our passenger on this matter. Meanwhile, we will have no more of this nonsense. The injury was minor, and he is young and healthy and will heal. Now rest your heads and I’m sure by sunrise you’ll see there is no cause to worry. If not, we will convene again then and I will hear you out. Those of you not on duty go below deck and be ready for your watches.”

With a few grumbles here and there the men dispersed.

Clyde remained.

“Clyde?”

“Captain.”

“You have something to say now. I noticed you said nothing before.”

Clyde considered him at length. “You care for the lassie.”

Roderick couldn’t tell if it was a criticism. The man’s tone gave nothing away. The comment did, however, make him think on it, which was perhaps the old sailor’s intention. In that moment he couldn’t answer with conviction, so he answered by logic. “She is a passenger. Therefore she is my responsibility, every bit as much as you men are.”

“If she is practicing witchcraft on this ship, we are carrying more than a passenger.”

Roderick’s gut knotted. “You clearly think the accusations are true.”

Again Clyde thought on his words. “If she is, it does not mean her intentions are wicked. If I thought they were, I’d be the first one to have her walk the plank.”

“No one will be walking the plank while I’m running this ship.” He spoke between gritted teeth and his chest grew tight.

Clyde lifted his shoulders and for the briefest moment a smile passed over his mouth, as if something had been confirmed in his mind. “Many healers hail from the Highlands, is all I am saying.”

Roderick calmed somewhat. “A healer, is that what you think?”

Clyde nodded. “And many of our men have begged for healers when we have been in foreign lands, regardless of what magic and strange potions might be used on them.”

“True enough. You’ve made a good point. Thank you.”

“Whatever happens, be careful not to let your affections cloud your reasoning, Captain.”

Roderick was about to respond when Clyde turned and limped away.

With a few well-chosen comments, the old sailor had sent him into a pit of confusion. The argument about healers was a good one, though. Healing was a gift. Clyde meant well and was a canny observer.

For some time, Roderick remained rooted to the spot, wondering if he’d developed affections for Maisie, and if that was indeed clouding his judgment.

He wasn’t able to deny it.

She did call to him, but that was because he’d never known a woman like her in his life, and she made him feel vital, as if his course in life was clearer. Was that the nature of a woman’s lure? It troubled him greatly. Why, he’d even warned Gregor Ramsay to be wary of a woman’s lure when Gregor had left the ship six months earlier. And yet he’d now forsaken his own advice.