Wildest Dreams
Page 82

Oh. Right.
I smiled again before telling him, “You can see to that water now, Skylar.”
He nodded again, once, quickly, then raced out.
Well, that was a little weird but… whatever.
Determining to ask Frey later, I finally set about having a good look around.
I’d had the opportunity to take off my cloak, hat and gloves, nose through Frey’s stuff on his desk and wash up when Skylar brought some warmed water to pour in the copper pitcher and I had a brass spyglass to one eye and was on my knees in the bench at the back, peering out at pretty much nothing (because it was still dark and there was a huge ass ship behind is that was in my way) when Frey came back.
I turned my head to watch him walk in and saw him stop and stare at me with unconcealed puzzlement.
“What are you gazing at, wife?”
I grinned at him, moved off the bench and put the spyglass on his desk while I walked to him and answered, “Seeing as it’s night, a whole lot of nothing. Still, that spyglass is cool, that bench is cool, that window is cool and this whole freaking cabin,” I stopped in front of him and slapped my hands lightly on his chest, tipping my head way back to look up at him, “is cool.”
His eyes moved over my face then he lifted a hand to cup my cheek, his thumb sweeping out to stroke my cheekbone.
What he didn’t do was smile back and I saw he looked distracted.
So I leaned in closer and asked, “Is everything okay?”
He didn’t answer. Instead he informed me, “We’re away soon.”
I smiled again and whispered, “Awesome.” Then I asked, “Can I come up on deck and watch while we set sail?”
He shook his head. “You need to sleep, wee one.”
I shook my head too. “Frey, I’m totally not tired.” And this was true, I was wired, not tired.
“All right,” he replied, “then I need to concentrate on navigating my ship out of the bay, my men need to concentrate on setting sail and while we do that none of us need to concentrate on my curious wife finding trouble as she wanders around discovering so I’ll ask you to stay in our cabin and stare through your scope at a lot of nothing.”
Hmm. Bummer.
Though I could understand why he wanted that and I could also do that for him.
“Okay,” I gave in. “But can I get a tour later?” I pushed and he again shook his head, not in the negative but as an indication he was used to me not giving up and I knew this didn’t annoy him when I saw his eyes warm but his mouth still did not curve into a smile.
“Skylar will take you around once we’re away.”
“Cool,” I said softly, studying him and sensing his thoughts were elsewhere but I wasn’t certain they were on navigating the bay.
He nodded and his hand dropped from my face but I caught it before he moved away.
“Frey,” I called, he stilled and his eyebrows went up. “Is everything okay?” I repeated my earlier question.
This time, he answered instantly, “Everything will be okay when we’re at sea and you’re surrounded by men I trust not to poison you or sink a dagger in your flesh.”
Ho boy.
Clearly someone had not had his mind taken off the events of the night by an awesome new city, doxies, galleons and a cool-as-shit captain’s cabin all of it straight out of a movie.
Therefore, I moved into him and circled him with my arms.
Pressing close and tilting my head way back, I whispered, “Honey, I’m okay.”
“Indeed,” he replied, curving his arms around me.
I tipped my head to the side and smiled big at him. “And we’re off on an adventure.”
His eyes again roamed my face before he murmured, “That we are, my Finnie.”
“So it’s all good,” I concluded and watched a darkness settle in his eyes.
Hmm. Maybe all was not good.
I gave him a squeeze and prompted, “Frey.”
“I bedded her,” he said quietly and I felt my brows draw together as my body tensed at his words.
“What?” I asked.
“I bedded her,” he repeated, one of his hands coming up to curl around my neck, he bent slightly so his face was closer to me. “I bedded her,” he said yet again and went on. “And asked her to attend the table the first night I returned with my new bride and your Mother shared that, in doing this, I gave her hope that she would again warm my bed, which, Finnie, I vow to you now that no matter what I said when I was angry with you, she did not.”
He was talking about Viola.
I nodded at this news that was not news to me and Frey kept talking.
“I’d no idea she was of weak character. I’d no idea her time with me led to an infatuation that was unhealthy. I’d no idea she would be open not only to conspiring to harm you but actually moving personally to carry out a plot to murder my wife.”
Ho boy.
“Frey –” I tried to break in on another squeeze of my arms but he bent deeper, got closer and kept talking.
“But she did and I knew the dangers you faced and it wasn’t my hand that tipped the vial of poison in the glass delivered to you but it was my actions that tipped her actions which means events unfolded, a woman lost her life and another woman narrowly avoided losing hers and that woman is my wife. So no, wee one, everything is not okay.”
All righty, this was a leap he was clearly determined to make, a leap that really made no sense but a leap founded in deep feelings of guilt and those kind never made any kind of sense.
And lastly, it was a leap from which I had to reel him back.
In an effort to do that, both my hands slid up his chest and came to rest on either side of his neck as I whispered, “What happened was not your fault.”
“I disagree, Finnie.”
I gave him a squeeze and a gentle shake. “Frey, you’re wrong.”
“Change places with me, my love, and tell me…” his hand gave me a squeeze too and he continued, “even if it was anyone but especially that it was this woman, a woman we argued over, an argument that spurred me to do something unwise which caused a rift between us, a woman you could only be sensitive about and, perhaps not now but possibly later, think about her, think about my thoughtless actions and what they led to and then let that fester. Knowing what already happened and what could happen as your mind invariably turns over the events of last night, how would you feel right now?”
Okay, he had a point there.
“Okay,” I said softly, “you have a point there but think about it. Firstly, if we were to change places and I was in your arms, feeling like shit that all this went down, in an effort to make me feel better and to understand it was really, truly not my fault, wouldn’t you explain that the actions of others are the actions of others? We had an argument and people do crazy things when they’re pissed. You were pissed and you acted on that. Everyone does stuff like that. You asked her to wait on a table, that’s it. You didn’t make any promises to her. She twisted that in her head and she did what she did but she did it. You can’t help it that you’re great in bed.” He did a slow blink at my words but I kept talking. “Well, I guess you could. If you wanted to be bad in bed, you could do that, I suppose. Though I’d ask you don’t start doing that now.”