The Madman’s Daughter

Not that alone.

 

“Montgomery, what do you …” I paused. The words were an experiment, and they came out stilted and half formed. “About the accusations …” My throat closed up. I felt his intense gaze but couldn’t bring myself to ask. If I’d still been ten years old, I wouldn’t have hesitated. But there were years between us now.

 

“Is it only you and him on the island?” I asked quickly, instead.

 

“And the islanders,” he said. Balthazar shifted in the corner. I had almost forgotten he was there. He had a way of settling into the shadows.

 

“Don’t you get lonely?”

 

“The doctor, he doesn’t mind. Sometimes I think even I’m too much company for him. And he certainly can’t abide their presence.” He glanced at Balthazar, making me wonder who exactly “they” were. “It will be different with you there. At times he can get so distracted that he forgets years are passing.” He lowered the light to the barest hint of a flame. “We’re getting close. Another week or two.”

 

I hesitated. “Do you think he’ll be pleased I’ve come?”

 

Montgomery brushed back his hair. “Of course he will be.” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, the smile I remembered as meaning he was lying. I pulled the blanket tighter against the sting.

 

The heel of Montgomery’s boot tapped nervously against the floor, as if he knew he was a bad liar. “I can’t say how he’ll take the news at first. He can be unpredictable, but in the end he’ll be glad you came.” He leaned forward, his blue eyes simmering. His boot tapped faster. “I’m glad you came.”

 

His words set every inch of my skin sizzling, and I nearly dropped the blanket in surprise. I’d always idolized him, but I’d been a little girl. The crush I’d had on him then seemed silly now that I knew how the world worked. Servant boys didn’t grow up and marry their masters’ daughters. Instead, women fell from privilege and sold themselves on the streets. Men could be cruel, men like Dr. Hastings. As much as I believed in Montgomery, the fairy tale was gone.

 

I sneaked a glance at him. Wondered what his life must have been like, alone on a remote island with only my father and the natives for company. Perhaps he was as hungry as I was to feel that connection we once shared, to get back a little of that fairy tale. I felt myself drifting closer to him as the blanket slipped from my fingers.

 

The ship jerked suddenly, and I flew backward. My head struck the wall. Montgomery tumbled out of his chair and would have fallen on top of me if he hadn’t braced himself against the wall with quick instincts. I clung to his arms as if I were falling, but we weren’t going anywhere. My fingers tightened. He was a finger’s distance from me. Closer. Close enough to feel the brush of his loose hair on my face, to feel the heat from his sunburned skin. If it hadn’t been for the thin fabric of my chemise, we’d have been skin against skin, his hard muscles against my soft limbs. My jagged fingernails curled into the bare skin of his biceps. His lips parted. He drew in a sharp breath. Being so close to a half-naked man—to Montgomery—made me breathless.

 

He winced. I was hurting him, I realized.

 

I let go. Blood and reason flooded back to my head. I hadn’t meant to grab him. Instinct had made me do it. And now he would think … what would he think?

 

The ship righted, and Montgomery sat up, his lips still parted. A line of red half circles marked his arms from my fingernails. His eyes were wide.

 

“Blasted storm,” he said, a little gruffly. He was breathing as heavily as I was. “How’s your head?”

 

I touched the back of my skull absently, still dazed from being so close to him. “Just a bang.”

 

He pulled his damp shirt back on, hiding my nail marks. A bloom of pink spread over his neck. “I should probably check on the animals.” He seemed suddenly unable to look me in the eyes. “Try to sleep if you can.”

 

He disappeared into the forecastle hatch, leaving me alone with Balthazar. The big man stared into space, then gave a shudder that sent seawater spraying, like a dog. He smelled of wet tweed and turpentine. I doubted I smelled much better.

 

I realized I knew almost nothing about this man who hung at Montgomery’s heels like a shadow. It was impossible not to be intimidated by his size and looks, despite how gentle he was with the animals.

 

“You’re a native of the island, aren’t you?” I asked. He seemed surprised that I addressed him and remained mute through the next lurch of the ship.

 

“Aye, miss,” he grunted at last.

 

“So you know my father, the doctor? Henri Moreau?”

 

Balthazar pulled his legs in to his chest. His eyes darted nervously. “Thou shalt obey the Creator,” he said.

 

“Creator? God, you mean?”

 

“Thou shalt not crawl in the dirt. Thou shalt not roam at night.” He rocked slightly.

 

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