17 March, 1767
The Artemis
CATRÌONA POV
I sat in silence in the Captain's Quarters alone, glancing down at the letter I was composing to Cailean. I had mentioned that Caoimhe had stayed on the Porpoise and would be safely reunited with us in Jamaica, but then I recalled something else about this day - the date, in particular. It was Saoirse's birthday.
Had Saoirse lived, she would have been forty-one on this day, but she had died young at only thirty-one. She still had so much life ahead of her, such as seeing her children grow into adults and start families of their own, give Saoirse grandchildren… but her life had been cut short by the unfairness of her physiology. I could tell when I had performed the surgery on her now twenty years ago that she had very narrow hips that could have caused problems for her had she given birth to a larger child. She got lucky with Cillian and Caoimhe because they were twins, meaning they were naturally smaller than a single bairn born. Riona, however, was not a twin, and was likely too big for Saoirse. Or she had what I had had with Maevis - a placental abruption. Caoimhe had mentioned briefly to me that Saoirse had bled a lot during the birth and must have died that way. It was hard to say, considering I wasn't there to see it myself, but however she died, it was tragic.
We hadn't gotten along much at first, but when we did, we were like true sisters. We shared many giggles as we exchanged stories about our respective husbands, she laughed when I told her my favourite stories about Cailean's childhood, and we bonded over being mothers to our handsome sons and our bonny daughters.
"You mean te say you put crabs in his bed?" Saoirse asked me, her green eyes wide with surprise.
"Trust me, he earned it well. I never liked him or Calum playin' pranks on me so when they did, I made damn sure they never made tha' mistake again. Their pinched bollocks taught them tha'," I replied, and her face turned pink from laughing so hard.
"I once pulled a prank on my sister, Sigourney. I caught her kissing a lad I liked, so I put frog eggs in her shoes. She wasn't very happy about that," she replied, laughing at the memory.
"Yer as mischevious as yer husband, arenae ye?"
"Aye, and you are as stubborn as yours!"
I smiled faintly at the memory. I missed having a sister to giggle with, confide in, love and protect. I had once had that in Jenny, but she now hated me, and to a degree, I had that with Maidie, but of course, our bond was never as strong as mine was with Saoirse. Sometimes, it was hard to look into Caoimhe's face. She was nearly identical to her mother, right down to the pattern of freckles that dotted Saoirse's cheeks and nose. If it weren't for the fact that Caoimhe had a bit more of her father's height, or her father's eyes, I would think she was Saoirse herself.
The door opened and I looked up from my letter, watching as Jamie entered the room as he carried in my tartan and the medical bag I had come to this century with. He smiled when he saw me. "I missed yer red hair," he told me kindly. "Ye look verra bonny in it, and just as I remember ye. The brown did no favours fer ye." I smiled slightly up at him as he set down the bag on the desk while I touched a short piece of red hair, which ended just above my shoulders. "Ye didnae take this wi' ye?" he asked me.
"Wouldnae have been enough te treat a few hundred men," I told him. "That, and the antibiotics I have wouldnae prevent Typhoid."
"Ah," Jamie replied, sitting on the desk beside me and resting a hand on my face. "Yer pink in the face, and ye feel as if yer burnin' up."
"No surprise there," I told him, giving him the bag to open, which he did, and pulling out the syringe with my free hand. "I'll need yer help, I've only got one arm. Can ye ye stick this needle in the top of this bottle?" Though concerned, he did as he was told, and I pulled the plunger of the needle up to the correct dosage. "Now's yer chance fer revenge," I told him, pulling out the syringe and handing it to him.
"What?" he asked me, his eyes wide with surprise.
"Ye heard me right. I stuck ye in the arse wi' this fer two days, now ye get te stick me in the arse," I told him. "Now, push the plunger just a wee bit." He glanced down at the needle and pushed it a little, causing a small bit of the penicillin to squirt out, and we shared a soft chuckle.
"I, er… dinnae think I can… stab ye in the arse wi' this," he told me.
"Why not? It isnae a knife, yer helpin' me," I told him, but he gave me a silent look as if begging me not to force him. "Oh, all right." I picked up an alcohol-soaked rag and lifted my skirts to reveal my upper thigh, rubbing the skin clean. "Give it here." I took the syringe from him and stuck the needle into my own arse, pushing down the plunger and letting out a soft hiss with the pain of the medicine going into the muscle, and then I pulled the needle out and set it on the desk. "Can ye wipe it clean fer me and recap it?"
"That I can do," he said, taking the cloth from me to clean the needle and then putting it away in my bag.
"See tha'? Easy and done," I told him, smiling up at him. "Kiss me, willnae ye?" He chuckled softly, then leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine.
"Ye should keep yer strength up," Jamie told me, pulling a hot pot of soup closer to me and opening it. "Willoughby made this, set aside this pot fer us." He scooped out some in a ladle and poured it into a bowl, then pushed it towards me. "Go on, have a bite."
"Aye, sir," I said to him playfully, picking up a spoonful and trying it. It tasted absolutely heavenly, and I reflected my feelings on my face. "Mmm… This is delicious. What kind of soup is it?"
"Turtle," Jamie told me. "Manzetti took a large hawksbill last night, and Willoughby wasted no time puttin' it into a pot."
"Mm, well, it's delicious," I said. "I dinnae think I've ever had turtle before. No' many turtles swim up te shore on Barra. Water's too cold, I think." I took a few more sips, expressing my content with the flavour and leaning back. I looked up at Jamie and smiled at him, giggling giddily and resting a hand on his thigh. "Ye ken… turtle is supposed te be an aphrodisiac."
"Is it now?" he asked me, giving me a soft, playful smile as I slowly slid my hand up his thigh, and then he stopped my hand and lifted it, bending down to kiss it. "Tha's verra bawdy fer a respectable married woman." He kissed my hand again as I let out a playful scoff and watched him stand and move to the other side of the desk.
"What do ye mean? I'm respectable," I told him, feeling a bit dizzy, as if I had had a drink.
"Are ye now?" Jamie asked me. "Sittin' there wi' yer hair loose… and yer nipples starin' me in the eyes like… cherries ."
"Hmph," I said, glancing down at my chest. I had taken off my shirtwaist to get better access to the injury and sat in my shift and skirt, and my shift had grown thin from use. "Well, it certainly isnae anythin' ye havenae seen before."
"Havenae seen them in a while," he told me, gazing at my nipples hungrily, and I smiled at him and stood up, leaning down over the desk so my shift would fall ever so slightly, allowing him a peek inside.
"Why dinnae ye bolt tha' door, then?" I asked him quietly.
"Bolt the door?" he teased me, glancing back at the door. "Why would I do tha'? Do I look like the sort of man that would take advantage of a woman tha's not only wounded and boilin' wi' fever, but… drunk as well?" I couldn't help but laugh as I leaned closer to him and clumsily kissed him.
"I'm not drunk!" I said to him giddily, grabbing him with my free hand to pull him closer. "Ye cannae get drunk on turtle soup."
"Oh, ye can if it's Willoughby's turtle soup. By the smell of it alone, there's a whole bottle of sherry in it," he told me, laughing as I clumsily made my way around the desk and catching me when I stumbled.
"Ye once told me that ye cannae be drunk if yer standin' up," I told him, and he lifted me up and sat me on the desk.
"And you are hardly standin' up," he told me.
"Stop changin' the subject," I told him, wrapping my arm around his neck to draw him nearer.
"And ye will stop talkin' aboot it," he said to me, accepting another clumsy kiss from me. "Besides, I wouldnae use force on a woman."
"No?" I asked him, using my free hand to grab his crotch firmly, and he let out a sharp hiss.
"But ye do… have… a verra firm grip… fer someone wi' a fever," he muttered with strain, and I squeezed his cock even tighter as I laughed, feeling it harden in my grip.
"Feels like ye want me," I said to him.
"Oh, I do want ye. I want ye badly… but I will have ye when ye are better," he told me, and I slipped off of the desk and pushed him backwards, stumbling into him and fiercely kissing him.
"Bolt. The. Door," I growled at him through gritted teeth.
"What aboot yer arm?" he asked me quietly.
"Remember what ye said te me when Randall broke yer hand?" I asked him. "Let me worry aboot my arm."
"Christ," Jamie muttered, and with all my strength, I whipped him around and shoved him down onto the desk, crawling on top of him and kissing him, nibbling on his lips and tugging on his hair. "This must be what it's like makin' love in hell." I bit down on his lip again and giggled as he growled at me. "…wi' a burnin' she-devil!" He grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed himself up, leading me to the door so I could bolt it shut, and then he helped me out of my skirt and shift so that I stood naked before him, careful to avoid my injured shoulder that was contained by a sling, and then with my free hand, I yanked his shirt off over his head while he pulled his breeks down, leaving the both of us naked. He grabbed me again, his hands squeezing my arse firmly, and pushed me against the vanity. He pulled back as if to ask me how I wanted to do this, and then the idea hit us both at the same time.
He turned me around, bent down just a little, and pushed his cock into me from behind, thrusting firmly into me. "God, Jamie," I hissed, slamming my palm down onto the surface of the vanity as his hand slipped down between my legs to stimulate me even further. "Jamie… God, Jamie, I love ye…"
"I love ye," he growled into my ear, biting into my shoulder as I let out a cry.
ARCHIE POV
Everyone was in good spirits on the deck of the ship. There was singing, drinking, celebrating, dancing and general laughter. It was good, considering spirits hadn't been this good since they finally broke free of the Artemis . Archie couldn't help but chuckle as he watched the men celebrating. Of course, Fergus and Marsali were nowhere to be seen. They had taken up occupying his parents' old cabin since they had moved into the Captain's Quarters, leaving Archie alone.
That's what he always was, to a degree - alone. When Mama left, Brèagha was too young to understand, and no one understood the pain he felt, except for Caoimhe and Cillian when Auntie Saoirse died. But unlike them, Archie was very fortunate to get his mother back, even though it was years later. When he lived at Helwater with his father, he was often ostracised by the other grooms and servants for his height, his hair and his Scottish accent, and don't even mention what he endured when he went into the nearest town. When he returned to Barra, finding his grandfather to be gone and his cousins and sister grown, he felt alone then. Even in Edinburgh surrounded by women willing to bed him even for free, he never felt like he truly had someone to share his heart with.
Shaking off the thought, he decided to go and check on his mother, concerned about the injury on her arm. He went to the door to her quarters and raised his hand to knock, but paused when he heard giggling inside.
"Jamie," he heard his mother moan inside, and Archie felt the heat of embarrassment turning his cheeks pink. He heard his father grunt and laugh in response, and Archie took a step back. He did smile a little, glad to hear such laughter coming from both of his parents yet again, but it was an additional reminder that he was still alone. He didn't have anyone to warm his bed, or laugh like that with. He let out a soft sigh, then ultimately decided to return to his cabin, hiding inside of himself like a turtle inside of its shell.
