I hesitated. “Do you think he’ll be pleased I’ve come?”
Montgomery brushed back his hair. “Of course he will be.” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, the smile I remembered as meaning he was lying. I pulled the blanket tighter against the sting.
The heel of Montgomery’s boot tapped nervously against the floor, as if he knew he was a bad liar. “I can’t say how he’ll take the news at first. He can be unpredictable, but in the end he’ll be glad you came.” He leaned forward, his blue eyes simmering. His boot tapped faster. “I’m glad you came.”
His words set every inch of my skin sizzling, and I nearly dropped the blanket in surprise. I’d always idolized him, but I’d been a little girl. The crush I’d had on him then seemed silly now that I knew how the world worked. Servant boys didn’t grow up and marry their mistresses. Instead, women fell from privilege and sold themselves on the streets. Men could be cruel, men like Dr. Hastings. As much as I believed in Montgomery, the fairy tale was gone.
I sneaked a glance at him. Wondered what his life must have been like, alone on a remote island with only my father and the natives for company. Perhaps he was as hungry as I was to feel that connection we once shared, to get back a little of that fairy tale. I felt myself drifting closer to him as the blanket slipped from my fingers.
The ship jerked suddenly, and I flew backward. My head struck the wall. Montgomery tumbled out of his chair and would have fallen on top of me if he hadn’t braced himself against the wall with quick instincts. I clung to his arms as if I were falling, but we weren’t going anywhere. My fingers tightened. He was a finger’s distance from me. Closer. Close enough to feel the brush of his loose hair on my face, to feel the heat from his sunburned skin. If it hadn’t been for the thin fabric of my chemise, we’d have been skin against skin, his hard muscle against my soft limbs. My jagged fingernails curled into the bare skin of his biceps. His lips parted. He drew in a sharp breath. Being so close to a half-naked man—to Montgomery—made me breathless.
He winced. I was hurting him, I realized.
I let go. Blood and reason flooded back to my head. I hadn’t meant to grab him. Instinct had made me do it. And now he would think . . . what would he think?
The ship righted, and Montgomery sat up, his lips still parted. A line of red half circles marked his arms from my fingernails. His eyes were wide.
“Blasted storm,” he said, a little gruffly. He was breathing as heavily as I was. “How’s your head?”
I touched the back of my skull absently, still dazed from being so close to him. “Just a bang.”
He pulled his damp shirt back on, hiding my nail marks. A bloom of pink spread over his neck. “I should probably check on the animals.” He seemed suddenly unable to look me in the eyes. “Try to sleep if you can.”
He disappeared into the forecastle hatch, leaving me alone with Balthasar. The big man stared into space, then gave a shudder that sent seawater spraying like a dog. He smelled of wet tweed and turpentine. I doubted I smelled much better.
I realized I knew almost nothing about this man who hung at Montgomery’s heels like a shadow. It was impossible not to be intimidated by his size and looks, despite how gentle he was with the animals.
“You’re a native of the island, aren’t you?” I asked. He seemed surprised that I addressed him and remained mute through the next lurch of the ship.
“Aye, miss,” he grunted at last.
“So you know my father, the doctor? Henri Moreau?”
Balthasar pulled his legs into his chest. His eyes darted nervously. “Thou shalt obey the Creator,” he said.
“Creator? God, you mean?”
“Thou shalt not crawl in the dirt. Thou shalt not roam at night.” He rocked slightly.
I peered at him uneasily. His words had the ring of commandments, but none I’d ever heard. “What are you talking about, Balthasar?”
“Thou shalt not kill other men,” he said, rocking harder. The ship dipped suddenly and I grabbed the wall for support. Balthasar no longer seemed aware of the storm. He rocked faster, eyes glassy.
“Who told you all this?” I asked. “My father?” His recitation had the feel of Father’s commanding influence all over it.
“Stop saying these things,” I said. “Please. Calm down.” My thoughts raced. Did the natives see my father as some sort of supreme ruler? Father had scorned religion, so I couldn’t imagine he would permit such ridiculous chanting. I wanted to ask Balthasar more, but he leapt to his feet and hurried from the room without another word.
THE STORM LASTED THROUGH the night and into the morning. When the Curitiba returned to its normal rocking, I stumbled above deck to gasp fresh air and feel warm sunlight. The foremast boom had buckled under the weight of the canvas sail, which now cracked and whipped in the heavy breeze. The dogs sprawled in their cages, quiet for once, under a waterlogged canvas tarpaulin. They didn’t lift their heads as I passed. Only their eyes followed me.
Montgomery and Balthasar stood on the quarterdeck, peering into the rigging.
“Is the ship still seaworthy?” I asked.
Montgomery jerked his chin toward the sailors, who fought to tame the sail under the captain’s slurred curses. “We won’t sink, but we won’t go far if they don’t fix the sail. Anyway, we have our own problems.” He looked back into the rigging. On the top spar, a dozen yards above us, was the monkey. “His cage shattered in the storm.”