II. Rosewater and Seasickness
Marie was on deck when the Esmeralda left port. Still waving and occasionally blowing kisses at her sister on the wharf below, she laughed at the precociousness that allowed her to hang out of the carriage window and wave. Catching the laughter in St. John as well, she turned sadly to the man that had served her family so well all his young life.
"You'll miss her, St. John."
He tightened his jaw on reflex and dropped his lazy smile. He did it whenever he remembered his position.
"Yes, my lady."
Marie's smile faded subtly as well and she unconsciously felt along the cross hanging off her neck.
"I'll miss her too."
Finally far enough not to see her father's carriage anymore, Marie now turned to look at the ship for the first time. St. John informed her it was a merchant ship, so it was far from luxurious, mostly just storage rooms down below, but at least it was clean. The deck was simple and she imagined below decks it was as well. The Captain had set a chair by a quiet spot on the portside, so Marie figured she was going to do a whole lot of reading and staring at the horizon if nothing else.
Asking St. John to show her her quarters, Marie was pleased to see her steamtrunks already there. Sorting through her things, she sent St. John to fetch her hot water for a bath before slipping out of her ruined dress and into a robe. When there was knocking at her door some time later, she flew to it, swinging it open without a thought.
"Finally, I've been wa......"
She shrieked and jumped back at the sight before her. The man from the wharf looked at her in sheer annoyance. He was carrying huge pails of steaming water in either hands.
"May I come in?"
Marie stared at him in disgust for a few minutes. He was wearing a dirty white billowy shirt tucked into black trousers and those horrid, unpolished, enormous boots. She could see he was straining, but she really didn't want him in her room. Especially after what he did to Remy.
"Where's St. John?"
Logan looked at her in growing exasperation. His muscles were straining to the point where they felt like they were going to break and she was barking questions at him.
"Can I please come in?"
Marie let an ounce of compassion penetrate her dislike of the man and stepped to the side. Logan exhaled in relief and set the pails down by the tub. He paused and flexed his numb hands for a minute and Marie eyed him suspiciously.
"Where's St. John I asked?"
He turned at her with a huff of disbelief.
"Your lap dog is getting more water for your bath, your highness."
Marie opened her eyes incredulously.
"How dare you address me..."
"What's going on?"
St. John appeared at the door huffing and puffing with another pail. He set it down with a grunt, letting some of the hot water splash to the floor. Marie looked at him numbly while Logan chortled and stomped out wordlessly. St. John just looked at her all out of breath and dangerously green. Still fuming, but concerned, Marie went to put a hand on his forehead.
"What's wrong St. John? You don't look well at all."
The man just shook his head and felt his stomach.
"It started a short while ago. The cook says it's seasickness, that some people are just..."
He burped and some of his breakfast almost made a repeat appearance. Marie held her own stomach in response. He looked in no condition to be on his feet.
"St. John, I think you should go lie down. Did he say what to do?"
He shook his head.
"Said I should take it easy, chew on gingerroot and have enough water."
Marie ran her fingers through her hair in desperation. This was not part of the plan.
"I think you should retire early St. John, I can stay in for now. Please, go rest."
The man agreed quickly and staggered out. He had a room next to hers and Marie wondered idly if he would be sick the next day. Turning to the three pails still in her room, she sighed again. There was no way she could move them filled to the brim, so with a scowl, she went in search of her basin to start emptying the water slowly into her tub.
By the time she eased into the water it was warm and a few minutes later it was tepid. Scrubbing down quickly before she froze to death, Marie changed into a fresh nightgown and went to bed early. Unfortunately she discovered that the bed was hard, having only one mattress covering it. Lighting candles to read by a short while later when she couldn't fall asleep, Marie's stomach growled. Remembering that she couldn't even go and ask for food unescorted, she threw her book across the room in anger. She was alone, uncomfortable, and hungry. Not a good start to a three week voyage.
The next morning Marie got dressed early and sat on her bed to wait for St. John. An hour later she was still waiting, so she debated what to do. Eventually her stomach growled again and she made up her mind to go find him. Slipping out of her room quietly, she eased across to the door next to hers. Knocking on it gently, she called to him.
"St. John, St. John, wake up. St. John please wake up, It's Marie Elizabeth."
She went to knock again, when the door flung open and an enormous black man covered the doorframe.
"I, I'm looking for..."
"Her lap dog."
The voice came from behind, and Marie jumped around to meet the detested man again. In the narrow hallway he was real close, so she took a step back, which only caused her to step on the tall black man's toes.
"Ohh, I'm so sorry sir, I..."
He grumbled and crossed his arms before slamming the door shut in her face. The Wolverine chuckled behind her and she turned to him again with what he knew was contempt.
"St. John is not my lap dog! Mind your manners, sir. He is a loyal, trustworthy member of my family."
He snorted.
"Like I said, a lapdog."
Marie was about to retort when he put a hand up.
"Save it your highness, he's in the infirmary and he's not gonna be fetching anytime soon."
He was already halfway down the hall when Marie realized what he was saying.
"Don't turn your back on me! Take me to see him!"
He threw her an answer over his shoulder without pausing.
"Find him yourself."
Marie stood watching his retreat in shock. She had never been dismissed like that in her life. Stomping her foot in impotence, she charged down the hallways in search of the infirmary forgetting the fact that she didn't have an escort and that she didn't know where she was going. Asking several curious men she bumped into along the way for the infirmary and getting only laughter in response, she settled on asking for the Captain. Making it up on deck after half an hour of searching, she straightened out and walked haughtily to where the Captain was barking orders. He didn't see her approach and was in a notoriously bad mood, so most of the men on deck stopped their work to watch the show. Logan watched also, from the rigging high above everything. He figured she would have crawled back into her room, but was genuinely surprised to see her grabbing the bull by the horns, literally.
"Excuse me sir, pardon me sir."
The Captain was still barking coordinates, so she tapped him with her gloved hands on the shoulder. He whirled around with his cane in the air.
"What is it!!!"
Marie took a shaky step back and cleared her throat. She was suddenly wary of the man's enormous girth.
"Captain sir, I would like a word with you."
Seeing that his little fortune was almost in tears, Captain Magnus quickly drove his cane back to the ground again and turned on his smarmiest smile. To everyone's disbelief he pulled out his chair and offered it to her.
"Oh my dear, I did not see you, I was too busy with this infernal crew, what is troubling you so?
Marie shrunk into the oversized chair and sniffled. She had wanted to speak to the Captain like an equal, but now she only wanted to cry. Huge tears were gathering in her large green eyes and she withdrew a handkerchief from somewhere in her bodice to dab at them.
"I apologize Captain sir, but I can't seem to find my escort, he's in the infirmary somewhere and I was lost and I'm terribly hungry and, and I can't find my quarters..."
At that Marie started crying wholeheartedly. She needed her sister and her trip was going to be harder than she thought. Trying desperately to avert any hysterics, Captain Magnus patted her head grandfatherly, uttering soothing words of encouragement. Feeling incredibly childish, Marie wiped at her nose and looked up.
"You must think I am so silly."
The Captain shook his head vehemently.
"No, no, dear child, You are not silly. These are injustices. Now stay here and I will come back in a minute. I assure you all will be all right."
He stood up with great effort and started walking away with a determined look on his face. Everyone that was watching the drama and pretending to work, tried to ease away before it happened. But it was too late. The minute he was out of Marie's range it began. Grabbing anyone he could, Captain Magnus started cursing and throwing things and yelling about how his precious cargo was being treated. Spotting Logan still hanging off some ropes, he narrowed his eyes.
"Logan, get down here you son of whore, we have to talk!!!"
Logan jumped down and stared at the Captain ruefully. He couldn't remember the last time he was reprimanded and it was all her majesty's fault.
"Don't gimme that look boy, you got the biggest share of the blame!! Now you're gonna get that girl her bathwater every fucking damn day with a smile!! And I better not see her sick!!"
Logan growled, but stayed in place.
"Infirmary!! Infirmary my ass!!!! Bishop, get the cook to bring something up here now!! Cable!! Bobby!! Where the fuck is Bobby????"
His piece of the yelling over with, Logan flexed his hands and started climbing the rigging again. Watching the commotion the Captain was stirring down below, he snorted. Over a girl. A damned stuck-up, pampered, ungrateful, spoiled little rich girl. Spotting her majesty still dabbing her eyes on the other end of the ship, up by the Captain's wheel, Logan cursed under his breath for another good half hour.
Munching quietly on her tea biscuit, Marie looked up from her book and tucked the shawl she was wearing a little tighter around herself. The sun was setting soon and the water was a wonderful orange color. In the week she had been on board, it had quickly become Marie's favorite part of the day.
"St. John come see..."
Marie stopped herself in sad realization. She had gone to see St. John several times that day. He was definitely not getting better and she was sure he wouldn't be better until they were on solid ground. For now she had Bobby. He was the youngest member of the twenty-twohand crew and a sweetheart by nature. It was the same boy that spilled the ale on the wharf. His punishment was apparently to be her escort, get her food and keep her company, but Marie couldn't begruge him at all.
They spent their entire days just sitting on deck and talking or visiting St. John. It was interesting in a way because he was a chatterbox that reminded her so much of Kitty. Which was good, because he told her everything he knew about sailing and she was teaching him how etiquette. It wasn't like she was ever going to sail or he have tea with aristocracy, but at least they knew, and that was satisfying enough.
"Come see Bobby. It's beautiful."
Bobby wrinkled his nose and pointed at the horizon.
"It is, but you see the purple by the water? That means there's a storm coming. We're pretty south and it's always real calm before a storm blows in."
Marie absorbed the information thoughtfully. It had been incredibly nice. Mild enough even for a shawl.
"Well, then I guess we should be heading in. Almost time for my bath."
Bobby gathered her books and umbrella and led the way.
"Sure thing Miss Marie Elizabeth. I wanna be in early tonight anyways."
Marie smiled at the boy's clumsy eagerness. It was so unlike St. John's quiet and reserved demeanor. When she was finally alone in her room, Marie undressed and waited. The clock on the wall said seven and still he hadn't come. Deciding to write in her journal while she waited, Marie lay on her bed and tried to recall everything about sailing that Bobby had told her that day. Sleepy from still having bad nights on her uncomfortable bed, Marie eventually leaned her face into her journal and fell asleep.
The next sound she heard was a thump as two massive pails were dropped on her floor. It was the barbarian character and angry that he entered her room without knocking, Marie sprung up and started what had become her daily berage.
"What do you think you're doing, coming in here without knocking?"
Logan just shuffled out into the hallway for the third pail.
"I did knock your highness, but you were too busy ..reading.. to notice."
Marie crossed her arms in frustration.
"Why must every night be an argument? I've never met a less agreeable perso......"
Marie trailed off when she spotted the huge purple bruise on Logan's face. He was dumping the pails of steaming boiled water into the tub, when she went to him.
"Mr. Logan, what is that on your face?"
She went around the tub to get a better look, but he shifted his head so that his long hair covered his face.
"It's nothing, did you want something else?"
Without waiting for an answer, he turned to leave. She ran to cut off his path at the door.
"Yes, I want to see your face."
More in frustration than willingness or cooperation, Logan raised his face to protest. Marie gasped at the damage inflicted there.
"Oh my lord, what happened to you, did someone hurt you?"
Logan snorted at the question. No-one had ever asked him that.
"No, I got into a fight."
Marie crinkled her face at the thought.
"A fight?"
Logan crossed his arms in amusement.
"Yes, a fight with fists, now if we're done, good night your majesty."
He went to move around her, put Marie grabbed him by the arm.
"No, you must clean those out. This is no good."
Logan raised an eyebrow. She had never touched him. As a matter of fact, she went out of her way to make sure she didn't touch him. More out of surprise than anything, he let himself get pulled to her vanity and sat down stiffly on the satiny pillow. She left him there and went off to open boxes and things, mumbling to herself all the while.
"What are you doing your highness?"
She dropped a bottle she was holding out of frustration and turned around.
"Please stop calling me that. It is really rather inappropriate."
Logan grinned. He knew her name was Marie something, but your highness seemed so much more fitting. He was about to say that when she bent down to pick up the bottle she had dropped. The movement caused her robe to open and he caught an unbelievable flash of leg. All the way up to her thigh where there was a lacy hem. Eyes wide, he watched her absently straighten out and continue her gathering of knick-knacks. Image of creamy skin burned into his head, he wondered briefly what her skin would feel like under his hands. Not prepared to entertain those thoughts, Logan went to get up and leave when she walked over and settled her toiletries on the vanity. She caught him by the arm again.
"You can't leave Mr. Logan, I'm going to clean your wounds."
Logan wrinkled his face at her.
"Wounds?"
She opened some bottles and pulled his face back. Pinning his long black hair behind his ears, she began dabbing a washcloth to his face.
"Yes wounds. Now, if I were you, I'd tell Captain Magnus exactly what went on tonight first thing in the morning."
Logan blinked a few times before bursting into laughter. Marie stared at him cluelessly. It took him almost a full minute to stop his roaring laughter enough to talk.
"You think somebody just picked on me?"
"Well yes, why else would you be hurt so?"
He shook his head in amazement. For an educated person, she was really dense.
"Darling, I fight for silver. We do it every week in the galley."
Now Marie was totally confused. She sat down on the edge of the tub slowly.
"You mean you fight on purpose?"
She said the words slowly, with her head cocked to the side, no doubt pondering why. Logan leaned back on the vanity still chuckling. He was getting a kick out of watching Marie's baffled expression until his gaze involuntarily swept down her body. Her ivory robe had about two dozen buttons from her chin down to her waist. But the full skirt bottom was buttonless and askew again, this time showing a sizeable amount of leg from the knee down. He cleared his throat and Marie slowly stood up again, completely unaware of what she was doing to him.
"I refuse to believe that grown men could act so..."
"Barbarian?"
Marie ignored the reference to the day on the wharf and started dabbing at his face again.
"I was going to say careless. Especially over money. You can really hurt yourself."
She rinsed out the washcloth in a basin and added something to the water.
"What's that?"
She held up a bottle with amber liquid.
"This? It's rosewater, it'll help with swelling."
Logan sniffed at the basin doubtfully.
"It's perfume."
"No, I mean yes it's used for perfume, but it's also a remedy."
She took advantage of his moment of hesitation and brought the washcloth back up to his face. Perfume or not, the warm scented water felt great on his swollen face. And so did her hands. Logan could hardly remember seeing her out of those damn white gloves, but they obviously worked wonders for her porcelain skin. He had worked off the South Seas once, hauling bolts of Asian silk for trade, and her smooth hands felt exactly like the silk had - priceless. They felt amazing even when they were disturbing aching flesh, especially when they were running through his hair. Absentmindedly, Logan refocused to what she was saying. He settled his eyes straight ahead. Seeing the outline of her shape without a corset in the satiny robe, he closed his eyes instead.
"I volunteered my services regularly at St. Mary's hospital. Me and my sister Kitty. Although she preferred the orphanages. Either way for me. We must do our share for the common folk our poppa says. It's part of our charity work with the sisters and they use this there all the time."
Logan huffed. It figured. He opened his eyes and his hands were suddenly around her wrists.
"So that's what this is, charity work? You feel pity for the poor animal too stupid not to walk into a fist?"
Marie gaped at the pressure as well as the harsh tone of voice. The rough callused hands scraped at her skin.
"You're hurting me. Please let go."
He looked down and saw her fingers turning slightly purple. He let go immediately and finally standing addressed her one last time before stomping off.
"I may not be a refined gentlemen like your Frenchman, but at least I know myself well enough to know that prejudice has no place in me. You've been told your whole life you're special because of your name, but it doesn't mean shit and you are no better than anyone else."
Marie gasped and covered her mouth with a still tingling hand. She was about to respond but in a flash he was gone and her door reverberated with the slamming he gave it. Not sure what she said to upset him, she slid down to the vanity seat he had just been on. It was still warm. With tears in her eyes, she flung the washcloth she was still holding into the tub of now cold water. He was a barbarian. Crawling into her bed still in her robe, she closed her eyes and willed the remaining time of her voyage to just fly by. She hated him. He was wrong. She was not prejudiced. Kitty wasn't prejudiced either and her father was the most noble man she knew. Racking with sobs at the memory of her father's warm smile, Marie took his last letter that was tucked in her journal book and clutched it to her chest until she cried herself asleep.
Logan was stalking down the corridors to his quarters when he decided he was in no condition to sleep. Taking the short flight of stairs up instead of down, he stepped onto the ship's deck and stomped over to the stern. The ship was tilted slightly, moving fast with the current. Spitting once into the pitch black water below, he cursed himself for being a fool. He didn't want to admit it, but it was true. He liked her, Damn near watched her for hours all week reading and lounging from up in the rigging. Wishing he knew what she read about, what she wrote about, what she said to Bobby. He was falling for her, a royal pain in the ass that saw him only like some stupid fucking animal. Someone to clean up when he didn't know any better and give orders to when she needed something. Someone to never see again after this trip.
Giving out one last curse through clenched teeth, Logan walked back down below ship. It was laughable. That girl would be back in Daddy's arm, in her big dresses, thumbing her nose at people in no-time. She and the French bastard deserved each other. They were the same. He slammed into his bunk with that very thought. They deserved each other. Only he could still smell it on him. Rosewater. He could still feel her hands on him. Silk. She looked like she cared when she cleaned him up. Looked nothing like she did when she sat like a queen in her chair. Maybe she did care a little but it still didn't make enough of a difference. He was a grunt and she was a princess, and in the real world the two never mixed. Still smelling the scent of rosewater on himself, Logan fell into a fitful sleep not unlike Marie's one floor above.
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