A World Apart (The Hands of Time: Book 3) (23 page)

Kit leaned against the wooden railing, staring into the choppy waters of the Atlantic.  The day was overcast, and the water was a murky gray that reflected the quickly darkening sky.  He hoped there wouldn’t be a storm.  The air was so saturated with moisture that his face and hair became instantly damp, making him shiver in the cold wind.  Kit wrapped his coat tighter around himself, his eyes never leaving the horizon.  What he wouldn’t give to see land.  Of course, there was no land to be seen. They were in the middle of the ocean, weeks away from any port. 

Kit looked around.  He could have sworn he heard Evie crying.  The sound of her desperate screams followed him day and night, tearing through his brain and leaving him numb with fear.  It was bad enough to think
that his daughter might die of starvation, but to know that he’d caused it was pure torment.  How could this have happened?  First Finn vanished, and then they had to flee in the middle of the night to avoid Louisa’s sentence.  At the time, leaving had seemed like the only possible solution, but now Kit tortured himself day and night, thinking of what he could have done differently.  Leaving Louisa to her fate simply wasn’t an option.  No matter the outcome of the trial, her punishment would be fearsome.  The thought of Louisa being publicly branded with a hot iron or flogged left Kit in no doubt that he’d done the right thing.  How could anyone do that to a woman, even if she had sinned?  All she did was utter a few wrong words in an unguarded moment.  Did that really warrant such cruelty? 

But now
, her punishment would be far worse.  Louisa would have recovered from the pain and humiliation of her sentence, but she wouldn’t recover from Evie’s death.  Kit’s mother had lost a baby when he was five, and he’d never forgotten the heart wrenching sound of her weeping, or the weekly trips to the cemetery to visit the tiny grave.  His mother had learned to live again, but she was never truly joyful, the death of his little brother always there, making her feel guilty for being the one who lived. 

He’d seen that same sadness in Valerie when they first came to Virginia.  She’d recently lost a baby
, and the pain of that loss was right there in her eyes every minute of the day.  Finding her sister after all that time distracted her from her suffering, but she would never fully recover from the loss of her son.  At least Valerie and Alec had never gotten to know the child they lost.  He’d been a stillborn, but Evie had been alive and well, and would certainly grow up if not for the dastardly chain of events set off by Frederick Taylor’s arrival. 

And now Louisa was pregnant.  Kit couldn’t even spare a thought for the new baby.  He had no right to another child, when it had been his anger that brought that child into being and caused Louisa’s milk to dry up.  Kit had never felt so utterly powerless in his whole life.  He had no way to save Evie
, and no way to spare his wife the agony that would follow.  Kit sank to his knees on deck and began to pray like he’d never prayed in his life.  He would gladly die in exchange for Evie’s life if that’s what the Lord wanted.  If only he would spare her.

Louisa looked up as she heard footsteps outside the door.  Maybe Kit had come back.  She had to apologize, make him see that she wasn’t blaming him.  How could he have known that this would happen? 

“May I come in, yer ladyship?” Bridget asked.  She was carrying a cup of something, which she set on the small table under the porthole.

“Have you seen Kit, Bridget?” Louisa asked miserably.  “He is very upset.”  That was an understatement, but Louisa didn’t really want to go into it.  She was sure Bridget had noted her red-rimmed eyes and blotchy skin.  Bridget missed very little.

“No, I haven’t seen his lordship. I’ve been in the hold, milking
Lizzie.”

Louisa just looked up at Bridget, awaiting an explanation.  No one was allowed in the cargo hold except the sailors, so why would Bridget go down there, and who was
Lizzie?  There was no cow on board.

“There are two goats in the hold, as well as several chickens.  The captain suffers from a stomach ailment and only eats biscuit soaked in goat milk and the occasional egg.  No one is allowed to go near the goats except Will
Lawson, who milks them every day.  I asked Will to let me milk Lizzie.  This is our only hope of saving Evie.”  Bridget pulled a thimble out of her pocket, setting it next to the cup.  She took the sleeping baby from Louisa, unwrapping her blanket.  Nothing woke Evie faster than a blast of cold air. 

“Wake up, my pet.  I have something for ye.”  Bridget dipped the thimble into the cup, filling it halfway with milk and
holding it to Evie’s lips, gently pouring the milk into her mouth so she wouldn’t gag.  Evie made a face and tried to turn her head away, but Bridget held her firmly, periodically dripping some milk into her mouth.

Louisa just sat there, unsure of what to say.  Evie’s stomach wasn’t ready for animal milk, but there was no other
choice.  They had to try.  Bridget patiently refilled the thimble, working her way through half the milk in the cup. 

“There now, doesn’t that feel better, my sweet?” she cooed to Evie.  “Is yer belly full at last?” 

In response to that, Evie threw up everything she had eaten, milk running from her mouth onto her blanket and gown.  She was crying, her legs kicking madly as she unwrapped herself.  An acrid smell filled the cabin, alerting them to the fact that the goat’s milk went right through her.  Louisa began to cry again, but Bridget just busied herself with cleaning the baby.

“
‘Tis normal, that is.  Her belly is not used to the goat milk.  ‘Twill take time.  We have to keep trying.  There’s milk left in the cup.  We’ll try again in an hour.  Just let her rest for now.  Her belly must be aching something awful.”  Bridget washed Evie’s butt in the basin, putting on a clean clout and gown and wrapping her in the spare blanket. 

“Just hold her.  Yer warmth will soothe her bellyache.  I’ll just go wash these things up on deck.  They should dry quickly in the wind.  We’ll be needing them again soon.”  She let herself out of the cabin, leaving Louisa cocooned in her misery.

**

It took Evie several days to get used to the goat’s milk.  She cried nonstop for the first twenty-four hours
; her belly aching as her system rejected the milk.  Louisa was terrified that she would become dehydrated, using the thimble to pour some water into her mouth.  Evie had noticeably lost weight over the past week, going from a lovely, plump infant to a scrawny writhing banshee.  Kit rarely came back to the cabin, unable to bear his daughter’s crying.  He slept with the sailors in the hold, huddled into a hammock.  Louisa tried talking to him, but he just walked away, his eyes never meeting hers. 

Every time Evie fell asleep, Louisa curled around her, begging the baby to absorb her energy, to take whatever she needed to survive.  She held her close, hoping that the little girl would feel her love and the desperate desire to keep her alive.  They were still weeks away from England. 

Bridget went down to the hold every day to get a cup of fresh milk.  Captain Reeves was exceedingly sympathetic when he found out about the problem, urging Bridget to take as much milk as necessary.  He even offered to boil one of the hens to make chicken broth to feed Evie.  Bridget thought they might have to try that if the milk failed. 

By the
third day, Evie seemed to feel better.  She managed to keep down the milk without spitting it up.  Bridget and Louisa waited with bated breath to see whether her belly would ache, but she seemed content as she fell asleep in Louisa’s arms.  For the first time in days, Louisa felt a surge of hope.  They continued to feed Evie every few hours.  It was a slow process since they could only dribble a few drops of milk into her mouth at a time, but they took turns, making sure she got at least a quarter of the cup into her before falling asleep.  Evie still spit up a little, but not like before, keeping down most of the food. 

“I think she’s gotten used to it, yer ladyship.  She’s a survivor, that one.  Just wait and see
.”  Bridget showed Louisa the empty cup.  “We’ve gotten nearly a whole cup of milk into her since this morning.” 

Louisa cried with relief as the next feeding went equally well.  Her breasts were nearly dry now, only a few drops coming out when she squeezed her nipples.  The goat milk had to work.  Evie began to regain some of her color, getting visibly excited when she saw the thimble coming toward her.  Every drop that made it into her mouth was the elixir of life.  Louisa began to breathe a little easier, seeing Evie’s recovery.  As long as the goats had milk, she would have food.  Now it was time to patch things up with Kit.

Louisa found Kit on deck, looking out over the ocean.  His face looked blank as he watched the gathering storm, the black clouds rolling in from the north, bringing with them a driving rain and gusts of wind that nearly tore off her mob cap.  It was just past noon, but it was getting darker by the moment, flashes of lightning illuminating the pewter sky with frightening frequency.  Louisa pulled her cloak tighter around herself to keep out the chill and the rain and walked over to Kit.  He didn’t turn his head as she stood next to him, just continued to look out over the churning water.  They hadn’t spoken in days other than to discuss their daughter.  Kit came to the cabin to check on Evie, but left as soon as he could.  He couldn’t bear to look at Louisa, his face betraying his hurt every time their eyes met. 

“Kit, please, talk to me.  I’m so sorry about what I said.”  Louisa put her hand over his, grateful that he didn’t yank it away.

“How’s Evie?” he asked.  He’d inquired about Evie several times a day, anxiety darkening his eyes.

“She just went to sleep.  She seems much better.
  Her belly is not aching like before.”

“Thank God.”  He continued to stare out over the water, his hair blowing in the wind, freed of its customary tie.

“Kit, it’s not your fault.  It never was.  I was just hysterical and mad with fear.  Please forgive me,” she pleaded.  Kit turned around slowly, looking at her as if seeing her for the first time.

“Forgive you?” he asked, confused. Louisa just nodded, suddenly afraid.  Would he never forgive her for her outburst? 
How could he not understand how terrified she’d been?  He’d forgiven her for not telling him about her past.  Surely, that had been worse than an accusation blurted out in a moment of panic.

“Louisa, there’s nothing to forgive.  It’s myself I can’t forgive.  You’re right.  It’s all my fault.  My behavior was unforgivable the night you told me about the time travel.  I was so angry; I didn’t give any thought to you or your health.  I only wanted to hold you and lay my claim on you.  Well, I’ve done that, haven’t I?  I nearly killed our child.  I don’t deserve either of you.”  He looked so miserable that Louisa just wanted to hold him like a
child and rock him until he felt better.

“Kit, plenty of women nurse their babies while pregnant.  The milk doesn’t
normally dry up.  It wasn’t anything you did.  I was just scared and needed someone to blame.  Everything will be all right once we get to England and can find a wet nurse for Evie.  She is strong, like her father.  She will survive.  Now, Kit, please hold me.  I feel utterly lost when you’re not there to support me.  Your love means everything to me.  You know that, don’t you?”

Kit wrapped his arms around Louisa, holding her tight.  His heartbeat was steady and strong against her chest, making her feel secure.  “Kit, let’s go back to the cabin,” Louisa said, lifting her face to receive his kiss. 

Evie slept peacefully in her hammock, rocking gently from side to side as they walked in.  She was tightly swaddled in her blanket to keep out the cold of the cabin, but her cheeks were a lovely pink, not the bluish white they’d been only two days ago.  Bridget was curled up on Louisa’s berth, looking exhausted.  She immediately excused herself, having assessed the situation correctly.  Louisa barely waited for the door to close behind Bridget before throwing off her wet cloak and pulling off her mob cap.  Her golden hair cascaded down her back, framing her face. Kit had already pulled off his doublet and was fumbling with the laces of his breeches, his eyes never leaving her face.  They were burning with desire, making Louisa feel feverish with need.  She pushed aside his hands, untying the laces of his breeches.  She couldn’t get them undone fast enough, needing to feel him inside her. 

There was no way to lie down together on the narrow berth,
so Kit lifted her up, pushing her up against the door of the cabin.  Louisa wrapped her legs around him as he took her, crying out with exquisite pain as his cock pounded her womb with every thrust.  She slumped against him as her body finally reached its climax, their bodies still joined.  She never wanted to let him go, not ever.   

“You
are
with child,” he whispered, kissing her face.  “It might be too soon to tell, but I just know it.”

Finn threw another log on the fire, settling in for the night.  The sounds of the forest were all around him, reminding him of the times he went hunting with his father and they spent the night sleeping rough.  He complained then, but he would have given anything to have his father here now.  Being alone was the next best thing.  He had to admit that after sharing a room with Jonah for the past few weeks, it was nice to have a bit of quiet for a few nights.  Jonah talked until he literally fell asleep mid-sentence, finally leaving Finn alone with his own thoughts.

Finn untied his bedroll, spreading it
as close to the fire as he could without setting himself aflame.  The crackling of the twigs was soothing, the leaping flames casting eerie shadows on the world around him.  Finn closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.  The night smelled of rotting leaves, pine, and wood smoke. He loved that smell.  It reminded him of home and the woods by the house, but he wouldn’t think of home tonight.  Finn linked his fingers behind his head, staring at the stars.  It was a beautiful clear night; the countless stars scattered around the half moon like shards of diamonds.  It was cold, but the warmth of the fire was enough to make him comfortable and drowsy. 

Finn closed his eyes, thinking of Abbie.  Leaving her after what happened had been hard, but he
had no choice.  His breath caught in his throat as he remembered her willing body under his, warm and inviting.  He thought he’d wanted her before, but now that he knew exactly what he was missing, the hunger he felt was overwhelming, gnawing at him every hour of the day.  He had to admit that it would have been wonderful to have her there with him, but he was on a mission, and Abbie was safer at home. 

Once Finn agreed to undertake the assignment,
Mr. Mallory explained to him what the Committee did and what part he would play.  They needed someone inconspicuous to deliver a few coded messages and then pick up a message from Sam.  It seemed that Sam was supplying his father with information about troop movements and battle plans.  Most of the men and boys living close to Williamsburg could be easily identified since they’d lived there all their lives, but Finn was new to the area, with no family and no special ties to anyone but the Mallorys.  It reminded him just how alone he was when presented with that fact. 

Finn huddled deeper into his blanket
, knowing that he would get cold once the fire burned out.  He had to get some sleep.  He would be meeting his first contact tomorrow morning and he was a little nervous.  He had to admit that he was also excited.  The notion that he was doing something to help the Revolution made his heart swell with pride.  He’d heard enough talk over the past few weeks about the injustice of the British and he had to admit that he was definitely on the side of the rebels.  The look of admiration on Abbie’s face was an added bonus.  She was proud of him, thinking him courageous and loyal.  Finn was still smiling as he finally fell asleep.