She wasn't concerned about that. Exactly. In his black sweater and jeans, a black Greek fisherman's cap on his head and that gleam in his eye, he looked supremely competent. As a pirate might, she mused, upon boarding a merchant ship.
I started
on your books.
There, she thought, the ground was steady under her feet.
I figured you would.
They're a disorganized mess.
Yeah. Kevin, come on over and take a look. I'll show you where we're heading.
Kevin hesitated, clinging to his mother's hand another moment. But the lure of those colorful charts was too much for him. He dashed over, dozens of questions tripping off his tongue.
How many whales will we see? What happens if they bump the boat? Will they shoot water up from that hole on their back? Do you steer the boat from way up here?
Megan started to interrupt and gently tell her son not to badger Mr. Fury, but Nathaniel was already answering questions, hauling Jenny up on one hip and taking Alex's finger to slide over the lines of the chart.
Pirate or not, she thought with a frown, he had a way with children.
Ready to cast off, Captain.
Nathaniel nodded to the mate.
Quarter speed astern.
Still holding Jenny, he walked
to the wheel.
Pilot us out of here, sailor,
he said to her, and guided her eager hands.
Curiosity got the better of Megan. She inched closer to study the instruments. Depth sounders, sonar, ship-to-shore radio. Those, and all the other equipment, were as foreign to her as the cockpit of a spaceship. She was a woman of the plains.
As the boat chugged gently away from the docks, her stomach lurched, reminding her why.
She clamped down on the nausea, annoyed with herself. It was in her mind, she insisted. A silly, imaginary weakness that could be overcome through willpower.
Besides, she'd taken seasickness pills, so, logically, she couldn't be seasick.
The children cheered as the boat made its long, slow turn in the bay. Megan's stomach turned with it.
Alex was generous enough to allow Kevin to blow the horn. Megan stared straight out the bridge window, her eyes focused above the calm blue water of Frenchman Bay.
It was beautiful, wasn't it? she told herself. And it was hardly tilting at all.
You'll see The Towers on the starboard side, Nathaniel was saying.
That's the right,
Jenny announced.
Starboard's right and porf s left.
Stern's the back and the bow's in front, said Alex, not to be outdone.
We know
all about boats.
Megan shifted her eyes to the cliffs, struggling to ignore another twist in her stomach.
There it is, Kevin.
She gripped the brass rail beneath the starboard window for balance.
It looks like it's growing right out of the rock.
And it did look like a castle, she mused as she watched it with her son beside her.
The turrets spearing up into the blue summer sky, the somber gray rock glistening with tiny flecks of mica. Even the scaffolding and the antlike figures of men working didn't detract from the fairy-tale aura. A fairy tale, she thought, with a dark side.
And that, she realized, was what made it all the more alluring. It was hardly any wonder that Sloan, with his love of buildings, adored it.
Like something you'd expect to see on some lonely Irish coast.
Nathaniel spoke
from behind her.
Or on some foggy Scottish cliff.
Yes. It's even more impressive from the sea.
Her eyes drifted up, to Bianca's
tower. She shivered.
You may want to put your jacket on,
Nathaniel told her.
It's going to get chillier