Love in Neverland: Book 2 in The Neverland Trilogy (7 page)

“I had a feeling you might say that,” the woman said in a flat tone.  As though she, too, were exasperated with him.

Magda rolled her eyes. 
Get in line
, she muttered in her head.

“Elizabeth has a potion for that,” the woman concluded.  “But think, Nick, before you make any rash decisions.  Potions always have consequences.”

Magda pressed her lips together.  She had heard enough.  Nick was trying to get a potion that would cause his heart to slow – or stop completely – without killing him in order to breach The Other World and rescue Remy.  The only potion that could do something so dangerous and reckless and potentially life-threatening was fairy’s blood.

Chapter 7

James’s castle was big but cold.  Remy was still exploring all of it, and she had already been here for a few days.  How could one person need all of this space and empty furniture by himself?  In fact, if she was being honest, James did not look entirely comfortable in his residence.  As per usual, he kept to himself.  She did not even know if his room was in the same wing as hers was.

She was going crazy.

Her boredom hit its peak, and she had read so many books, she thought her eyes would fall out.  After Pam had dressed her for the day, she demanded that her maid take her to James right this second.

“Mum, he’s quite busy” –

“No!” Remy exclaimed, much more shrill than she expected.  She pressed her lips together and took a breath.  It was not Pam’s fault that she was bored.  “Please, Pam.  I need to speak to him.  He wanted me for some reason he has yet to explain because apparently I’m bad company or perhaps I’m boring or maybe” –

“Ms. Cutler?” Pam interrupted, looking at her with her wide, blue eyes.  “Please, shut it.  I’ll take you to him, but I cannot promise you he’ll actually drop what he’s doing to amuse you.”

“It’s been nearly a month, and he has yet to tell me why I’m here,” Remy said, the words tumbling out of her mouth the way leaves tumbled off the branches of trees.  “He barely speaks to me.  Pam, I’m going out of my mind.  I need some sort of physical activity.  I can’t keep sitting around, reading and writing mental symphonies!”

“You’re what?” Pam asked.

Remy did not hear her.  “I would rather be arguing with Nick on his ship half the size of Hook’s in the blazing sun than sitting in my luxurious sheets, staring up at the pristine ceiling, counting down every second of the bloody day.  I’m tired, Pam, and I hate it because I haven’t actually done anything worth feeling this way.  Help me, Pam.  Please, I need your help.”

Remy was certain her colorful eyes were ablaze with passion and perhaps a pinch of insanity that Pam took a step back in order to obtain space between the two of them.

“Let’s go, then,” Pam said.  She eyed Remy one last time, almost as though she didn’t quite trust Remy to keep a cool head on her shoulders before heading out of the door.

Remy kept her eyes sharp, taking in everything, trying to memorize the route Pam took so she could go back to it by herself.  The castle was built with stone, a dark slate color.  It almost matched James’s eye color when he was upset about something.  Though she wore slippers on her feet, there was a chill in the air that seemed to seep through her clothing until it reached her bones.  She wished she had brought a shawl of some sort, in order to keep her arms covered.

“Wait a minute!” Remy exclaimed the instant the passed a full-length mirror.

The mirror itself looked somewhat out of place, considering James had not even hung pieces of art on the walls of his home.  In fact, there was nothing decorative in the house at all, nothing that made it his home.  In fact, it made Remy miss her father’s pieces of art that hung down every hallway, some paintings even hung in particular rooms.  They were not by famous artists and did not cost much, but her father valued them, and that seemed to be worth something to him.  Her mother had decorated each room to her liking, picking out specific rugs and wallpaper that matched nicely.  Each room had its own theme, and her father even managed to pick a painting that went with his wife’s chosen theme.  Their home was eccentric and bright, to say the least, but it always felt like home to Remy.

This probably did not feel like home even to James.

“Yes?” Pam asked, turning her head so she could lock eyes with Remy. 

She was always polite, even when she was slightly annoyed and perhaps a tad frustrated.  Remy had to hand it to the girl – if she had had that patience when she had been Pam’s age, she would have been the perfect child.  Instead, she had demanded her way and refused to give in.  She prided herself on being strong and holding her ground, but she realized now that she was being rude and closed-minded.  She clenched her jaw and her heart hurt at the thought of her parents.  She missed them and wished she could apologize for the liberties she had taken with them without so much as an appreciative word.

“I…”  Remy’s eyes were drawn back to her reflection, and she made a face at herself.  “Is this what I look like?”

Remy’s brown hair stuck up in every which way, and her eyes had dark rings underneath them.  She had not worn powder or rogue in a while, and her hair desperately needed a thorough washing, as did her body.  She purposefully ignored smelling herself, afraid of what the odor might be, and instead, tried to mask it with the sweet smelling creams and lotions James provided.

“Pam, if I may, I need a bath,” she said.

“I thought you wanted to speak to James,” Pam pointed out.  Her voice was a little stronger the more she spoke to Remy, and Remy hoped that meant she was getting more comfortable with her.

“Yes, well,” Remy said, glancing at Pam from the corner of her eye.  “I changed my mind.  Aren’t I entitled to change my mind?  And certainly you can’t expect me to speak to him looking like this?  That would be akin to disrespect, Pam!”

Pam pressed her lips together, and Remy couldn’t be sure, but it appeared as though she was trying to contain a smile.  Well, that was a start with her handmaiden.  After that lecture, Remy wanted to make amends in some way, even if she didn’t exactly mean to.

--

The hot water licked her skin the same way a dog lapped up water on a hot day.  Remy let out another moan of pleasure as she scrubbed the grime that had collected on her body off with the rag Pam had provided.  Pam offered to bathe her, but Remy insisted on solitude.  She needed peace and quiet in order to help her think.  She had never been much of a planner.  Instead, she made things up as she went along, adapting to whatever situation was thrown at her.  Sometimes, it worked; other times, it did not. 

Now, however, the situation called for more strategic planning.  If she was to learn anything, if she was to gain any sort of traction, it was necessary to consider all angles of possibilities.  Also, she needed a sound strategy.

In a way, Remy was glad for the time she was able to spend alone on James’s ship and read.  She learned more about him than anybody would have guessed.  Given the fact that she knew he was a Viking and could speak the language, Remy could research Vikings in the makeshift library.  It was tedious reading at best, but she had learned a lot, and one thing she knew would work in her favor was the fact that Vikings were red-blooded males.  The liked all things feminine due to the contrast between the sexes.  As such, she needed to look more ladylike than the majority of Magdalena’s wardrobe provided.  One thing she could do was bathe.  The next thing she could do was change out of the pantaloons and tunics she had grown accustomed to since her time with Nick.

Nick…

Remy shook her head.  She could not dwell on Nick just yet.  She needed to stay focused.  Once she had the information she needed, she could start thinking about escape and returning to Nick.  For now, she had to think about James, and figuring out the best way to seduce him without being obvious about it.

She made sure to wash with soap that had a scent that would linger on her skin long after she dried off.  If he could smell her from a few paces away, it might draw him closer to her.  If he got closer to her, she might be able to distract him.  If she was able to distract him, he might not realize what he confessed.

But everything had to be executed perfectly.  There was no room for mistakes.

Once she dried off, she would return to her room and sort through Magdalena’s dresses – assuming she had more than that awful purple one.  She needed dresses that fit Remy’s body, that highlighted Remy’s perfections and hid her flaws.  If she had an outfit that fit her in all the right places, James would not be able to best her again.

If her mother were here, she would have had the perfect outfit to draw the eyes to her chest.  She would say that the neck and the collarbone could be just as sensual as her chest – maybe even more so.  On a particularly important night like a ball or a debut, she might do Remy’s hair herself and curl her hair for hours.  They would go over everything Remy would be expected to do in order to win over a gentleman or practice her demureness.  At the time, Remy was bored to tears.  At the time, Remy tuned her mother out and wished Beatrice was here because Beatrice would not talk all that much and Remy could forget that she was required to attend yet another society function.

Remy pressed her lips together as her eyes filled with unshed water.  She had been wishing she was anywhere else but at home, with her mother.  She had ignored her, rolled her eyes, talked back.  She took her mother for granted.  And she missed her now.  That was certain.

Before Remy could stop herself, her tears started to fall.  Her makeup was ruined, her eyes were red.  She missed her mother.  She missed her father.  As much as she liked Nick and the crew and sailing around on ships and not being responsible for anyone but herself, she missed her home.

A knock interrupted her sobs – she realized she was sobbing only when another noise interrupted her – but the door swooped open before she could rub the tears off her face.  There stood James, and he looked devastatingly handsome that it almost hurt her to look at him.  He wore a white tunic that clung to his frame and blue, high-waisted breeches.  On his feet with ebony-colored boots so clean, she could see her reflection in them.

“You are crying.”

The words spoken together made sense, but James seemed confused at best.  Remy blinked a few times in order to clear up her vision so she could see him better.  He stepped in her room so he was able to close the door behind him; however, once he did so, he did not step in any further.  In fact, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but here.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, his voice hesitant, as though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

“Because I miss my home,” she replied honestly.  Her tone was rough, soft, raw.

“You miss Grey and the Black Star?” James asked, tilting his head to the side.  “The crew on his ship?”

“No,” Remy said, shaking her head.  A couple of curls sprung loose from their confines and fell in her face as she did so.  “I miss my home.  That ship, your ship, this place… This isn’t my home.  My home is still on earth, with my mother and my father.”

“Oh.”  He still did not seem to understand.

“Don’t you miss your home?” she asked.  “Before you died? Don’t you miss your parents?  Your wife or lover or romantic partner?”

James snorted, his eyes flashing.  “I have never had a wife, nor do I intend to,” he told her.  “Forever is a long time when you can’t die, and commitment to one person for forever is practically impossible.  I have not had a romantic partner that I can remember.  Same with my lovers.  My parents are dead, but I do not miss them.  They are in their final resting place.  I am happy they have each other and can move on.”

“So you miss no one?” Remy asked, her tone laced with doubt.  Certainly there was someone who affected him in such a way that caused their lack of presence to linger in his mind.  Everyone had, at least, one person that affected them in a special way.  Even someone like James Hook.  “Not even… Magdalena?” 

If she caught him by surprise with the name, he gave no indication of it.  Not even his eyes flickered. 

“Magdalena is off doing something for me,” he told her.  “If you must know, it’s to keep an eye on your beloved Captain Grey.”

“I do not love Nick.”  The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and she instantly regretted them.  James smirked and Remy felt guilt seep into her stomach and take a tight grip on her, strangling her so she could not breathe.  Regardless if what she said was true, it was none of James’s business.  And it was something she was still trying to figure out herself.

Figure out
, her mother’s voice tsked.  The French accent was particularly thick, as it usually was when she understood something nobody else did.  Her frustration would cause this little wrinkle over her nose – the same wrinkle Remy got when she was frustrated as well. 
You’ve already figured it out.  The less you think about what you are saying, the more honest you are.  Do not feel guilty for your feelings, Remy.  You are entitled to feel whatever you want, no matter what.