Temptations

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The story began in A Grail for Eidothea and continued with A River Trembles and A Sword for Wellington. It now concludes with A Shattering of Souls. New here? This is a Regency-set fantasy romance adventure with shapeshifting sea dragons, where our cast search for Arthurian treasures to save the world from ecological collapse. Save this post, go subscribe (you’ll get the first two seasons in an e-book) and then have a binge read of the rest. You deserve it.

A little reminder that sources will be listed in bold. There are dates included as well, as I have needed to go back and forth in time to pick up the threads of someone’s part in this story due to the fact that we have multiple journals in play this time around.

What Happened Last Week: Thanks to Luned’s connecting Gift, the plague ship was saved from sinking. With their quarantine over, they returned to Aberystwyth where Dr. Cobham, a doctor for the Gifted, put Luned under observation because of the strange things she’s seen. Is her Gift degenerating? She met a strange man, seeing a dragon’s head imposed upon his body for a brief moment. He’s cute but she’s head over heels for her captain. His name? Thomas Wareham and it seems he wanted her to join his cult…

From Miss Luned Murray’s Journal:

13^th February, 1819

I saw Mr. Wareham on the pier. He dawdled close, but not too near, the Acheron. He saw me and approached, moving with a lithe grace. It bothered me that I noticed that.

“You remain with the Acheron?” he asked.

“None of your business,” I snapped. I attempted to pass him but he grabbed my arm.

“Are you safe?” His question stopped me, even while I shook off his restraining hand.

“Why would I not be safe?” I frowned at him.

“Your gift,” he stated, looking surprised that I asked.

“I am safe with my team,” I told him. The Company tested the Gifted again and again until they found a suitable fit for a Gift’s contribution. It niggled though: the repeated tests, the judgement whether I was fit for service—what would become of me if the Navy deemed me unsuitable for the ADC? Marsh had barely survived his and Ballard had the scars to prove the Company’s ruthlessness. I had fared better, coming late into the Program, but that had been bad enough.

“If you are in port and need my help, I’ll gladly render it.” Mr. Wareham sketched a bow.

Unaccountably, my heart sped. I loosed a breath to dispel the confusing emotions bubbling beneath my sternum. “Why gladly? We are strangers.”

He straightened. His thin smile held a hint of boyish regret. “We won’t always be—” He broke off, his eyes wide. The colour drained from his face, rendering his golden skin the palest cream.

“What is wrong?” I prompted, turning to see what had shocked him.

“Ondine?” The name burst unwillingly from his lips.

The only woman nearest us was Dr. Pelletier, who stood on the Acheron’s main deck. I frowned back at him. “You must be mistaken, Mr. Wareham. That is Dr. Corinne Pelletier. Corinne, not Ondine.”

Mr. Wareham surged past me towards the ship’s surgeon, who descended the Acheron’s gangplank. Her smile, meant to welcome me, faded. She retreated a step.

I grabbed his arm, hauling him back before he set foot on the gangway. “I said you are mistaken.” I put myself between he and Corinne. His gaze upon Dr. Pelletier had a strange intensity.

His lower lip trembled. “Ondine?” Pain flashed across his face. “Ondine? Why do you not answer?”

He started to attract attention from the other crew, who gathered along the ship’s railing. I tugged at his sleeve. “You better go.”

Dr. Pelletier’s booted footsteps sounded down the narrow wooden gangway. “It is impolite to yell, sir.” She stood behind me, slightly to one side. “Who is this Ondine?”

“You,” he gasped out. “You’re my sister.” His chest heaving, he wiped at the lower part of his face with his palm, staring at her.

Corinne’s brow furrowed. “I have no family, save one.”

I stepped into his view, trying not to be disturbed by the anguish ravaging his handsome face. “She’s not your sister.”

“You do not see the blue glow, there under her curls?” He gestured to her hairline.

I did not need to look. “No.” From the corner of my eye, I saw Pelletier touch her temple.

“Trouble?” Captain Ballard called from the Acheron. His boots reverberated along the gangway.

“Mr. Wareham.” I tugged on his coat sleeve. “It’s not her. You need to leave. Now.”

Tears streaked down his slack face. His breath hitched and he spoke low. “We need to talk. I’ll tell you everything.” His gaze skittered to Dr. Pelletier.

“Not now,” I murmured. “I will come and find you.”

He nodded, staggering back a few steps before turning away. He walked along the pier, his gait unsteady and weaving.

Ballard’s warm hand rested on my lower back. “Who was that?”

I dragged my attention back to Captain Ballard, releasing a long, slow breath. “Just another person who lost his sister to the Gifting. Dr. Pelletier must resemble her.”

Pelletier’s hand dropped from rubbing her forehead. “Yes, that must be what it is.”

“You have your orders?” Ballard asked, his voice crisp. He stepped closer, too close.

I glanced over my shoulder at Pelletier. She retreated up the gangway. I handed him the long envelope, sealed with red wax.

He broke it open, perused its contents, his expression darkening. “We are to continue to observe you and report any fresh anomalies.”

Glum, I bowed my head.

“Mr. Steward is to confirm any coordinates you give.” Ballard expelled a breath. “Looks like he will be winning some arguments this trip.”

I bit my lip, willing my panic to ease.

He patted my back with a jovial brusqueness. “All will come right. We are in this together.” I knew the crew watched us. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I need to speak with you privately. I will find us a room ashore.”

My mouth dropped open. A room? I managed a stiff smile and saluted. “Yes, sir.” I advanced up the gangway. I paused at the railing to watch him head into town, his erect posture and broad shoulders my personal beacon. What did he have to tell me? What did he intend by taking a room?

In our shared cabin, Dr. Pelletier turned from the tiny mirror. “You do not see it?” She held back the curls that framed her forehead.

“You do?”

Hesitantly, she nodded. “You do not?”

Peering, I admitted seeing a blue vein pulsing beneath her golden skin. “It does not glow. Perhaps it was the light?”

She let her hair fall back into place. “Poor man, I hope he finds her.” She checked her appearance in the mirror, touching her dark curls. Her reflection smiled at me. “I plan to see my beau. Would you like to join us? You look like you could use the distraction.”

I begged off. Later, still in my civilian attire, I checked in with the watch and let him know I would not be on board that night. “Captain gave me permission.”

The man’s lips twitched. “I am sure he did, lieutenant.”

“If anyone should look for me, I plan to dine at the Crown Inn.” I fled before the urge to smack the grin off his face got the upper hand.

Mr. Wareham found me at the shadowy table a lot later than I expected. He smelled of the fresh ocean, which presumably had blown in the door with him.

His eyes looked a little wild. He sat, empty-handed. I called for beer for the two of us. The serving girl refilled my tankard and delivered a fresh one to Wareham.

He stared at the plain pewter, unmoving. His hands framing, yet not holding, his mug.

I leaned forward, tapping his forearm. “Are you well, Mr. Wareham?”

He straightened, took a gulp of beer and grimaced. “I don’t plan to be.” He downed the tankard’s entire contents and tapped the table for more. He glanced at me. “You’re paying.”

“I am?”

“It’s the price for my answers.”

“You said you would tell me everything. Not charge me for it.”

Wareham made a face which would have been quite adorable if I did not have my captain. “It’s just a drink or two.”

He downed the second one and called for a third.

I nodded to the barkeep. “Your sister is missing.”

His lip curled. “It’s not an unusual story.”

“I am sorry to hear it.” I drank, a little more than I intended. Any family with a Gifted member knew the ache, the agony, all too well. Some wore it like a badge and others … got on with their lives.

“Don’t need your pity,” he grumbled.

“I was not giving it. Being Gifted is a curse.”

His hazel eyes fixed on mine. “It’s not meant to be. It’s meant to be a salve, a blessing.”

I sipped before answering, formulating my words with care. “If you are about to tell me how being Gifted will save the world, you can go hang. I have heard it all before.” The Company liked to brag.

“The work is incomplete. Being Gifted is only part of it. The Lady deemed it necessary—”

I pushed his tankard at him. “Drink before you get boring.”

That got me a dark look, but he made short work of consuming the brew. With splayed fingers, he gestured toward my own tankard. “Light drinker?”

“I can hold my own.” I refused to respond to his goading. “But one of us needs a clear head.”

His dark brow quirked upwards. “I’m not a part of your team, although…” He leaned in. “I believe you’re a part of mine.”

I stared at him. “I told you I am not interested.”

He took my hand. His grasp felt cool, soothing. He turned my hand to face palm up and pulled up the bottom of my glove. “Here,” he said, tapping my wrist. “Do you have a round mark or scar there?”

I swallowed, remembering how a circle had glowed there during Dr. Pelletier’s healing. “No.”

“You do,” he opined. “You just can’t see it yet. I’ve been looking for you. You’re the final piece.”

I failed to wriggle out of his tightened grasp. His grip started to hurt. “Let go,” I warned.

His thumb brushed over mine. “Come with me. There’s something I have to show you and maybe then you’ll start to listen.”

I resisted his pull.

“I won’t hurt you, won’t touch you—”

“What’s going on here?” Ballard’s curt voice cut through Wareham’s entreaties. “Let the lieutenant go.”

Wareham glared, defiant. “You’re interrupting.” His words slurred.

“She’s my lieutenant,” growled Ballard. “Let. Her. Go.”

A seismic shudder wracked Wareham’s frame, a streak of pain flitted across his belligerent expression. “Again, Lady?” he muttered.

He released me, rising. He leaned against the table, knuckles down, weaving. “She’s her own person and can choose who she likes—but not tonight.”

I watched him weave through the tables and out into the night. I took a deep drink.

“Who was that?” Ballard pulled up a different chair to sit close to me. He retrieved the tankard from my hand and took a sip, wrinkling his nose. “Ugh, I have had better, and so have you.”

I agreed. “It does the job. Mr. Wareham had a Gifted sister. He mistook Dr. Pelletier for her. He needed a willing ear.”

“It looked like more than that.”

I searched his expression. “Are you are jealous?”

“You sat with him in a dark corner where nobody could see you. I had to walk around the room twice before I—”

I leaned forwards and kissed him. His mouth firmed over mine, returning the kiss. One hand cupped my neck. He broke away with a soft groan. “Luned…” He straightened, rising. “A friend has loaned me the use of his place for a few hours. Let us talk there.”

“Talk?” I rose, drawn to him like a moth.

Captain Ballard’s lips compressed into a thin line. He tucked my arm into his and led me from the inn.

South of the castle ruins, Captain Ballard led me into a row house that had seen better days. In the downstairs parlour, someone had left lamps lit for us. I saw the detritus of that someone’s life scattered about the chamber.

He drew the curtains. “Luned,” Ballard murmured.

I drew close to him, leaving very little space between us. His kiss had promised more kisses, at the least. “Julian,” I replied in the same grave tone. My heart leapt at speaking his given name.

“I need to confess something to you.”

I leaned in, the front of my pelisse brushing against his coat. “Yes?”

“Of late, I have…” He rubbed a hand through his auburn hair. “I am going to make a mess of this.” He expelled a breath. “I know why the Acheron’s gaslights are misbehaving.”

My brow furrowed. What did this have to do with he and I? I waited for him to continue.

“You know I am connected to her, the Acheron. I have never been able to properly describe it but … she is my better angel. She knows how I feel about you.” His fingers played with a lock of my hair.

My eyes grew wide. I dared to lay my hand against his chest, felt his heart pound beneath. “I think I know too.”

Julian ducked his head. “I have tried to resist this, what I feel. Seeing you brings me joy and lately … lately I have wanted to protect you, wanted to hold you.” His breath hitched.

“I have long admired you.” I sounded breathless. “Captain—Julian—you may kiss me if you wish.”

His head dipped, his thumb tracing my lower lip. “I want to, Luned, believe me.”

“Julian…” I clasped my hands behind his neck. My body pressed against his.

His mouth brushed against my cheek, a dry whisper, his breath hot. His hands skimmed down over shoulder and hip. I inhaled his scent, my nose pressed against his neck, a delicious combination of salt air and sweat.

His hands traced from my shoulders, along my arms, reaching my wrists behind his neck. He lifted one, then the other and stepped out of my embrace. His grip shifted to hold both my hands in his. “I need to tell you this first. The Acheron does not approve. That’s why the lights have failed, why the rudder broke. It is not your fault, Luned, it’s mine.”

I stared at him, feeling heat rise on my cheeks. “What are you saying?”

“That is why we are here. The Acheron cannot know what we do ashore—”

“But she will know when we return to her.” My mind raced, trying to understand. The ship could not hurt me, and yet … did she know that I had been blamed for all the strange happenings aboard? I struggled to catch my breath, feeling ill. “What do we do?”

“I will make amends with her. Somehow.” Julian unfastened the buttons on my pelisse. “We have these few hours. Perhaps once we have scratched this itch, we can move past this.” He feathered kisses down my neck, bending to kiss across the top of my bosom.

My brain tried to function, my hands already clutching at his back. “Move past?”

“We are for Dover next.” His mouth found mine and I forgot all about his banal statement. Our hungry kisses forestalled any conversation for a time. Julian pulled away, his shoulders heaving, his gaze focused upon my lips. “I want to taste more of you.”

I reached for his cheek, trembling. He caught my hand, drew it away from him.

“Luned, my wife is coming to visit.”

I struggled to free my hand, not wanting to comprehend. “Julian…”

His lips thinned. “She wants us to resume marital relations. I cannot face her, with this desire for you. I thought if we— then I could return—”

I went very still. “You will betray her now? Are you mad?”

Julian strode away from me, stopping to rest a forearm against the fireplace. “It’s been years, Luned, years. Since the Gifting, after Juliet was born, she refused to let me touch her, let alone bed her, and now … she wants me. Her letter… I blushed to receive it.”

I stared at his back, sinking against the wall. “Do you have it with you?”

He glanced over his shoulder at me. “I will not let you read it.”

Pushing against the wall behind me, I straightened, my legs feeling like jelly. “Do you … do you still love her?”

His head dipped into his hands. He rubbed his face. “I…I do not know.”

“Liar,” I breathed. I pressed cold palms to my heated cheeks. “Oh, you fool. This—us—started because we are lonely.” Shaking, I buttoned up my pelisse. “I cannot do this with you, Captain Ballard. I will not come between you and your wife, nor you and your ship. Your better angel had the right of it, sir.”

He faced me then. “Luned—Miss Murray, forgive me.” He swallowed, hard. “May you find happiness.”

I swallowed. I had thought my hallucinations would cause my leaving the Acheron. I never expected to be placed in this situation. “Perhaps I should stay here in Aberystwyth.”

“No.” Julian—Captain Ballard I must think of him as now—slumped into a high-backed wooden chair. “I want you away from Dr. Cobham. That place has a reputation. I do not wish any harm to come to you.”

“You have already delivered the deepest hurt.” Tears threatened to close my throat. I sketched a salute and fled.

I walked through the streets in a daze, coming to a stop at last on the beach. I walked north, away from the town and toward the dark crumbling cliffs. Leaving the beach behind, I clambered onto the rocks and took a seat. I needed to return to the Acheron, but I had time, for the tide was out and we would not sail until the morning.

I could not believe Captain Ballard had been so willing to take advantage of me and discard me after a few hours of use. I scrubbed at my mouth. I had been such an idiot. He could dismiss me, although I believed him when he said he would see me safe out of Aberystwyth. Still, I called the crew of the Acheron my family and I had just risked losing the only people who accepted me for who I am for a few hours of misplaced pleasure.

I let the tears flow, screamed out my anger and grief. Back on the Acheron, I had to button up these emotions for there would be no privacy except while on the night watch.

Could it get any worse?

Well, I for one know the answer to her question. Ahem. Thoughts about today’s instalment? Comments? Share below or join the Chat!

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