She folded Adelaide into a hug, praying she could keep her sister by her side for as long as possible. The earl might have to give in to Lady Eleanor in the long run but at least marrying him would buy Isabella time to come up with a plan. As for Lord Martin, distance and silence would hopefully show him that she did not mean to cave. Let him dash himself against her castle walls. Her heart was well-defended.
Chapter Thirteen
For two moredays Isabella managed to remain largely silent in Martin’s presence, focusing her entire attention on Adelaide. Though Martin and Adelaide were getting closer by the day, bonding over music despite Isabella’s warnings, Isabella maintained her distance, refusing to speak a word to her husband if she could help it. All she had to do was keep it up for the entire journey, and she would be free to marry whom she chose.
On their fifth day at sea, Isabella sat on deck, surreptitiously watching Martin manage his ship while her sister rested below. Why was she so affected by the sight of a competent man at work? She never would have expected the teasing coxcomb to be such a good captain. Seeing him shift from mischief and nonsense to brisk efficiency made her insides clench with something she refused to name or acknowledge.
“Halfred, what do you make of that sky?” Martin asked, standing on the raised platform of the aftercastle with a wiry older man with a steel gray beard.
“I don’t like the look of those clouds, my lord. There’s a storm brewing. Mark my words.” The two of them stared up at the gathering darkness ahead, even as the sun brightened the sky behind them.
Isabella couldn’t help but follow their gaze. The clouds looked like great tufts of wool smeared with soot. That didn’tbode well, but if any captain could weather a storm, she was sure Martin could. The thought made her shake her head. Since when did she put such faith in this bothersome man?
“Think we can avoid it?” Martin asked.
“No, my lord.”
“Neither do I. It’s moving too fast.” Martin stepped to the front rail of the aftercastle. “Clovis, Wymond, trim the sail,” he boomed in a clear voice that carried the length of the ship, despite the buffeting wind. “Pascal, Ned, and James, check every corner of this ship and lash down anything that isn’t secured. Ulf, steer us east. We need to be in deeper waters to ride out this storm, or we’ll risk running aground. Will, come here. I have a special task for you.”
Everyone hurried to carry out their assigned tasks with brisk efficiency. It was like watching the inner workings of a windmill, the seeming chaos of wooden cogs moving in concert to achieve the single aim of moving a grindstone. Yet again, Isabella was forced to admire the obvious skill with which Martin led his men, not that she would admit any such thing to him aloud.
A youth of no more than twelve or thirteen with blond curls peeking out of his brown woolen cap practically flew to Martin’s side. The boy beamed at having been called upon for a special assignment, his eagerness to please written plainly on his face. Martin said something to the boy in a low murmur that Isabella couldn’t hear, and the boy hurried down from the aftercastle, making straight for her.
“My lady,” the boy said in a voice that cracked halfway through the words, He cleared his throat and tried again in a lower register. “My name is Will. Lord Martin says I’m to take you below and play chess with you and your sister while we ride out this storm.”
Isabella looked up at her husband, who was deep in consultation with Ulf, paying her no attention whatsoever. “Chess?”
“Have you not played it before, my lady? If you haven’t, I can teach you.” Isabella returned her attention to the boy before her. He was bouncing on his toes in his eagerness to please. “I’m very good at it. I’ve even beaten Lord Martin once or twice.”
Something about Will reminded her of her brother, even though the two looked nothing alike. Maybe it was the sheer youthful enthusiasm he too had possessed at that age. She couldn’t help but smile at him.
“I’ve played chess many times, and I would be delighted to play with you. Let’s head down to the cabin.”
She made her way down the hatch and into the dim light belowdecks, past the hammocks where the sailors slept, to the cabin door.
She knocked before entering. “Adelaide, it’s me. I’m bringing someone with me.”
“Come in,” her sister called out.
“Let me, my lady.” Will hurried around her to open the door, bowing deeply.
“Adelaide, this is Will.” Isabella gestured to the boy, who bowed deeply again. The two of them must have been around the same age.
“There’s a storm brewing, and the captain asked me to keep you company. He suggested we play chess. Do you play, my lady?” he asked, addressing Adelaide.
“Not really. I know the rules, but I’m rubbish at it. Maybe I’ll play the lute while you play, Isabella.”
“As you wish. Lady Isabella, will you join me?”
With a nod, Isabella settled herself on one of the simple wooden chairs next to the small round table in the center of the cabin.
Will opened a cabinet built into the ship’s bulkhead and pulled out a cloth bag and a roll of leather before closing it again. He then unrolled the leather on the tabletop, revealing the painted squares of a board. One by one, he pulled beautifully-carved wooden chess pieces from the bag, placed them on the board, and then sat down once the board was set.
“You go first, my lady. I’ve given you white.”
“Very gallant of you,” she said, smiling. How very different it was to play chess with this guileless young boy than with Lady Eleanor. With Her Grace, Isabella always felt as if she was being tested. A game was never merely a game. She rather liked playing for entertainment for once. Picking up the king’s pawn, she moved it to the center of the board. “Your move.”
She was a pawn, she thought, as Will countered. Lady Eleanor had certainly treated her like one, discarding her for a minor strategic advantage when she could have done so much more. It rankled that after everything they had been through together, Her Grace thought so little of her.
