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For a brief moment, Noèle closed her eyes, wishing for what seemed like the thousandth time that Ophélie had been her husband’s child.
Again, Antoine squeezed her hands, jarring her back to the present. “May I introduce you to the 𝐶ℎ𝑒𝑣𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑟 𝑁𝑜𝑖𝑟’s new 𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑒, Ian Stewart?”
Noèle swallowed and directed her gaze to the tall, stoic man next to Antoine. More than anything, she wanted to look into his eyes and feel reassured; after all, her life, her well-being, everything she was would be in his hands the moment they set sail. Could she trust him?
“𝑀𝑎𝑑𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝐶𝑙𝑒́𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡,” the Scotsman greeted her, his voice hard and detached. Not a flicker of emotion graced his features as he met her gaze, his own slightly narrowed, as though he did not wish to look upon her. Still, after the first wave of unease that briefly threatened to send her running from the ship, Noèle thought to glimpse something else below the man’s hard shell.
Pain.
Again, she saw a flicker of pain.
As she had the night he had carried her off Dubois’s ship.
It was an odd sense of recognition, and it calmed her fears a little.
“𝐵𝑜𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑢𝑟, 𝐶𝑎𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑆𝑡𝑒𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑡,” Noèle returned his greeting, doing her best to offer him a small smile. Perhaps, with time, they would feel more comfortable in each other’s company. For now, however, this would have to do. After all, there was something more important at stake here than Noèle’s peace of mind.
A soft whine suddenly drew Noèle’s attention downward, and her eyes fell upon the Scotsman’s wolf. Of course, she had seen the animal now and then in the village, always following upon the man’s heel, always alert to his commands. Yet Noèle had only ever glimpsed him from afar. Never had she stood so close as to see the tear in his right ear or the brilliant yellow of his almond-shaped eyes.
Startled, she drew in a sharp breath, taking a step backward.
Instantly, 𝐶𝑎𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑒 Stewart’s left hand moved downward, giving a quick wave, and the wolf retreated a few steps, then sank down upon his belly, resting his head upon his paws. It was such a familiar behavior, one she had observed in dogs countless times, that Noèle had to smile.
“You have nothing to fear from the wolf,” Antoine said soothingly, stepping forward and positioning himself between her and the animal. “He looks fearsome, but he is quite docile, is that not so?” Over his shoulder, he looked at the Scot.
𝐶𝑎𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑒 Stewart gave a quick nod but said nothing.
“Come,” Alexandra called, drawing Noèle away. “I’ll show you to your quarters. From experience, I can say that they are quite comfortable.” She cast an affectionate smile at Antoine, no doubt remembering the time she and her husband had spent together upon the 𝐶ℎ𝑒𝑣𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑟 𝑁𝑜𝑖𝑟.
Following Alexandra, Noèle nodded.
As they moved toward the hatch, Noèle saw Antoine step toward 𝐶𝑎𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑒 Stewart, his head slightly lowered, as though he did not wish to be overheard. However, the wind carried his words to Noèle’s ears. “I’m entrusting her into your care.” His voice sounded tense and imploring as he held the Scotsman’s gaze.
𝐶𝑎𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑒 Stewart nodded, the expression upon his face as stoic as before. Yet as he spoke, his voice affected her deeply, sending a shiver down her back. “I shall guard her with my life.”