He lowered his foot, staggering a bit before he righted himself. He was a man of discovery, not a destroyer, though this last expedition had nearly crushed him. He braced himself against a nearby desk, the wood beneath his fingers smooth and cool, unlike the rough timbers of the ship. The sounds of the house surrounded him—the whinny of a horse in the mews, the twitter of a night bird. They were as familiar now as they’d been when he was ten and in their echoes he found a faint comfort. Then the creak of the floorboard beneath his boot sent a shock racing up his back. In the straining wood he heard the echoes of Gorgon groaning beneath the pressure of the ice, struggling to keep it at bay until at last she’d given up the fight.
Conrad moved uneasily to the chair beside the cold fireplace, set the half-empty decanter on the table and dropped into the thick cushions. The house was much quieter than the ship. During the long Arctic months, the wind had always been blowing and the men had been talking, complaining or playing cards, anything to fill the hours of boredom with something other than worry. The weariness of the past eighteen months, of the last few hours, settled over him like the fog of drink. He should go upstairs. He needed to sleep in a proper bed, but he couldn’t move. He’d known true exhaustion and this wasn’t it. Even if he went upstairs, there was no guarantee of rest, only hours of sleep jerked from him by nightmares of the cold.
It didn’t matter. Years of exploration had taught him to catch sleep where and when he could, to do with as little of it as possible in order to make it through another day. Only this wasn’t the North Pole, or the hull of a ship. It was the study where he’d first wooed Katie, the woman whose soft voice and love he’d hoped would silence the doubts and memories torturing him.
As the darkness closed in around him, the crack of icebergs slamming together drowned out the quiet of the house. Each thud made Conrad wince until at last it faded and a dreamless sleep brought much needed silence.
* * *
Katie peered into the dark study. In the hallway, she thought she’d heard a noise, but everything in here was quiet. She must have imagined it the way she sometimes imagined hearing her father return from a dig. She’d look up from sketching a specimen, thinking she’d see him come through the door, only to remember he was never coming home again.
It shocked her how keenly she noticed his absence. Even when he’d been home, he’d never truly been there. There’d never been anyone who’d been willing to place her above their own selfish pursuits, not her mother, her father or even Conrad.
Bitterness stiffened her steps as she moved beneath the timbered ceiling and past the books, animals and artefacts filling the room. At one time the tattered flag, seal skins and the stories behind each item had impressed her. Tonight, they were a crushing reminder of Conrad’s true passion, like the tiger was a reminder of her father’s.
She stopped in front of the skeleton bleached an eerie white by the moonlight coming through the window. It stood just as she’d last seen it, wired together as her father had arranged it, except for the skull. It was missing.
She searched the floor beneath the table, looking for it, irritated to think it’d been ruined by someone’s carelessness. She and her father had spent hours hunched over the bones, studying, drawing and arranging them just as she had as a young girl when she’d sit beside him in their small house in Whitemans Green, cleaning away the hard dirt encasing her father’s latest find. Working with him had been the only way to garner his attention and she’d taken in everything he’d taught her about anatomy and biology. He’d even spent precious money on drawing lessons to increase her natural skill, though those had been more for his benefit than hers so that she could sketch his collections.
Despite her father’s selfish reason for tutoring her, those days with him were the only times she’d ever felt wanted and loved, until she’d met Conrad.
Pain squeezed her chest. If she’d known, less than a year later, Conrad would be aboard Gorgon and off to embrace his true passion, she would have been more cautious with her heart.
‘Come to see the animal?’ Conrad slurred from behind her.
She jerked up straight and focused through the darkness to where Conrad pushed himself up out of a chair by the fireplace, swaying as he stood.
She laid a shaking hand over her chest, as startled by his drunkenness as his unexpected presence. She’d never seen him drink to excess before. ‘Conrad, I didn’t know you were in here.’
‘You’d have avoided the room if you’d known?’
Yes. ‘No, I wanted to see the tiger.’
‘Of course you did.’ The edge in his voice disturbed her as much as the incomplete skeleton.
‘Where’s the head?’
‘Over there.’ He pointed to where the skull glowed white against the dark carpet.
She walked over and scooped it up, then turned it over in her hands to examine it. ‘I don’t think any permanent damage has been done.’
‘Can’t say the same about much else, now can we?’
Katie ignored the sarcasm as she reattached the skull to the neck.
‘I suppose you’ve heard my status in the world has been quite elevated since I’ve been gone?’ Conrad slurred as he staggered over to stand beside her.
‘As the heir, will you resign your commission?’ There was a little too much hope in her question.
‘No,’ Conrad answered without hesitation. ‘It’s what Helton expects me to do and I’m not about to do his bidding.’
‘I see.’ There was nothing in the world which would persuade him to cease exploring, not a title, or even love.
‘Aren’t you going to congratulate me?’ Conrad prodded.
‘I don’t envy you enough to congratulate you.’ There were few but the most sycophantic of people desirous of a place in government who envied a connection to the Marquis of Helton.
‘You’re right, you shouldn’t. No one should.’ The same desperation Katie had experienced during the past year, when the long days of spring had turned into summer and then autumn with no sign of Conrad or his ship, coloured his voice. He peered past her into the night beyond the window, the lines of his face hardening with a pain she felt deep inside her heart. ‘I had to leave him.’
‘Who?’ Katie whispered, troubled by the mournful tone of his voice.
‘Aaron.’ He choked out the name as if it cut his tongue.
Katie swallowed hard. She remembered the red-headed Scotsman with a laugh as thick as his brogue. Of all the men who’d assembled on Gorgon’s deck to meet her, the barrel-chested man with the quick smile and lively eyes had seemed the least likely to perish. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘So am I.’ He staggered back to the side table and took up a heavy, square decanter, gripping it tightly in one hand as he raised it to his lips. The liquid inside sloshed as he struggled to hold it, then he lost his grip and the heavy crystal tumbled to the floor, its fall broken by the head of the lion skin lying prone beneath the chairs.
‘Damn it.’ Conrad stared at his fingers as though they’d betrayed him.
Katie rushed to him, laying a comforting hand on his arm, wanting to draw out his pain like a splinter and help ease both of their suffering. ‘What happened, Conrad?’
* * *
The contrast between Katie’s white hand on his dark, sea spray-stiffened coat was as startling as this second show of tenderness after so much reserve. It gave him hope, but not enough to make him speak. At one time he could have described to her the heart-wrenching moment he’d discovered his friend lying frozen in the snow and the