A traveler.
But…he was here, taking each shift in the wind and water as if he’d been born on a ship. If he’d been sailing since he was a child, then when—?
Etta took another full step back away from him, stunned.
“She truly told you nothing,” Nicholas said, his voice flat. “I cannot say I’m surprised.”
“You…” Etta struggled to bring her fractured thoughts back in line. “You weren’t going to tell me either, were you? Do you have any idea what I’ve been through? How much better I would have felt at that dinner table, knowing I had a real ally? God, no wonder you kept stepping in when I messed up. You had to.”
“Of course I stepped in to assist you,” Nicholas said, seeming almost confused. “It is against our laws—and against better judgment—to allow our secret to be revealed. You should know this well by now.”
And just like that, she knew that her plan would never work. Even if she could win the rest of the crew over, they wouldn’t go against his wishes. She wasn’t going to be able to grind his resistance down with reason or charm—not that she was all that certain she even had anything resembling charm. Nicholas wasn’t just a hired acquaintance orbiting around the periphery of the Ironwood family’s galaxy; he was part of their system. He was one of them.
“Your training—” he began.
“What training?” she cried, letting her temper fly again. “I didn’t even know I could time travel until Sophia pushed me through a…through a passage, or whatever you call it!”
“Pushed you?” He spun back toward her, eyes flashing. “You mean to tell me you’ve never traveled before now?”
“Try: never traveled, never heard the name Ironwood, and possibly never going back to my home. They aren’t even my family—they killed someone I loved to get to me!”
He swore viciously under his breath, turning his back on her for a moment. “You didn’t even know you possessed the ability? Your traveler’s sickness must have been unbearable. No wonder no one on the crew saw you—you must have been unconscious for days.”
Traveler’s sickness?
No—she couldn’t get distracted, not about this.
“Don’t act like you weren’t in on this,” Etta said. “You and Sophia—”
“No!” he said sharply, drawing her toward him, walking them both backward. She realized, as the world suddenly took shape around her again, that Wren and Chase had left the cabin, and were now moving steadily toward the hatch to the lower deck. “Don’t put me in league with her. Ironwood’s request said nothing of this. I assumed he was calling you and Sophia back to assign you to some task. I don’t make a habit of abductions, Miss Spencer.”
“You mean, aside from stealing other people’s ships and holding their crews hostage?”
His brows rose, and he actually looked like he might smile. That settled her, but only somewhat.
“His letter didn’t explain anything else?” she asked. “Nothing about why he wants to see me?”
“No. I was to intercept the Ardent and bring you and Sophia to New York City by September twenty-first. Christ,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “The first time I traveled, I attacked an automobile with an umbrella and nearly pissed myself in terror. So when I say you are taking this well, I hope you’ll believe me.”
Etta couldn’t begin to picture him looking frightened.
“I wish you’d told me,” she said quietly. “You are an Ironwood, aren’t you? Sophia mentioned other families, but…”
“I wish I could say I wasn’t,” he said, disgust curling his upper lip. “I don’t associate with them, not anymore. This is purely a matter of business to me. I don’t travel, I don’t obey Ironwood, I live my life free from all that. And when the transaction is complete, they’ll be cut out of my life for as long as I can keep it.”
What was she missing here, then? If he hated the Ironwoods so much he was practically spitting as he talked about them, why agree to work for them? And if he could travel anywhere, to any time, why stay in one so openly hostile to him?
Based on what Jack had told her, Nicholas and Chase had been raised by Hall from the time they were boys, and Nicholas had said he’d been sailing from that age. So when had he done his traveling?
I don’t travel, I don’t obey Ironwood, I live my life free from all that.
And why had he stopped?
Etta could feel him pulling back, retreating not only into his mind, but instinctively stepping back in the direction of the captain’s cabin.
“Knowing what they’re like…you still won’t bring me back home?” she asked. “Do you know where the passage is that Sophia brought me through? Is it in Nassau?”
“This ship sailed out of Nassau, so it’s a likely conclusion to draw, but…” He shook his head. “I was never given a list of the passages and their locations. What year are you from, precisely?”
She told him, and it was worth it alone for the expression of complete wonder that transformed his face.
“I was told there wasn’t a passage that opened beyond the Second World War. That is the commonly held belief. Of course, I do know there are many ancient passages that are uncharted, their destinations unknown. Perhaps yours is one of them. What family do you belong to?”
“Linden,” she said. “According to Sophia.”
She’d caught him by surprise again. “Linden? Are you certain?”
“She could be lying, I guess, but she did mention my mom, Rose.” Etta stole a glance at his face. “Do you recognize the name?”
He blew out a long breath from his nose, unable to look at her face. “Who in our small world hasn’t heard of Rose Linden? She’s the only traveler to successfully outwit Ironwood. Stole something of his and disappeared without a trace. My God, what are you then, ransom? Why wouldn’t he have just taken her if he found the two of you? Is she still alive?”
Etta nodded, latching onto this small piece of information. “What else do you know about her? Anything?”
“Only that she left a broken heart in her wake—Augustus Ironwood, Cyrus’s son and heir, spent years searching for her. Went nearly mad with it.” Nicholas shook his head, and when he spoke again, there was a blaze of promise in his words. “I’ll ensure that you get back to your time. If you are bait, or if he intends to use you to threaten Rose, then we’ll leave at our first opportunity and search for the passage ourselves.”
Disappointment sliced through her. If. She hated that word now. If and only if she was in true danger, he’d help her. Of course he wasn’t going to turn around out of pity—in the first place, he didn’t know where to bring her; in the second, he was earning good money for this job. But…as stupid and small as it made her feel, she had hoped. She’d read something in his hesitation.
Her stomach gave a firm, desperate little twist.
“You said someone was killed,” he began. “Who was it?”
The first words that floated to her lips were a lie; she hated herself for it, for wanting to give in to the easy simplicity of a fake story, rather than peel off the bandage and bleed every messy feeling and thought about the violin all over again. But she liked this honesty between them—it felt like something real and solid, strong enough to tie herself to, when there were so many lies and secrets trying to pull her in every direction at once.