As Daniel moved closer to Isla, he sensed a subtle energy that radiated from her and stretched to Lewis. He thought he saw a heat wave in the air connecting the two, but blinked and decided he’d been imagining things.
Isla led Lewis to the window seat, which offered an unobstructed view of both the sky and the ocean, but Daniel had yet to spend any leisure time there in quiet repose. The only thing he’d used the cushions for, in fact, was for sleeping on the floor by Isla’s bed every night, a fact of which she was still blissfully unaware.
When Isla passed Daniel, there was a ripple in the air, another surge of heat. Isla somehow aided Lewis’s mental stability with her own energy stores. He’d never heard of such an ability, and Isla certainly hadn’t mentioned it to him when he’d asked about her work.
Lewis settled down in the seat, moving to accommodate Isla, who sat at his hip.
“Very well, Lewis.” Isla held up Daniel’s pocket watch a comfortable distance from Lewis’s face, allowing him to focus. She remained still, catching the watch when it moved with the gentle rhythm of the flying ship. “We are simply going to look at the beautiful watch and relax. Are you comfortable?”
Lewis nodded and focused on the timepiece. At her suggestion, he visibly relaxed his shoulders and arms, then comfortably stretched his neck and lay against the cushions.
Now that Daniel was aware Isla was using something of herself to aid Lewis, he watched her carefully, noting the deepening lines of tension in her forehead. Perhaps the strain was building. He listened as she suggested to Lewis that he was heavily relaxed and yet light as a cloud. The longer she spoke, the softer her voice grew, yet the air fairly pulsed with intensity. She told Lewis he would control his instincts when he shifted, that he would use his logic and rationale to master the wolf’s behavior. That he would feel his own sense of self in either form, and be confident in his abilities to regulate his activities according to his own will.
She continued speaking, and Daniel found himself swaying slightly, woven in a cocoon of comfort and calm. He lost track of her words, but he couldn’t have torn his attention from her if he’d tried. He vaguely heard her say that Lewis would awaken to a sense of his surroundings when she counted backward from three . . . two . . . one . . .
Daniel blinked, and Lewis rubbed his head, smiling uncertainly.
“You are feeling well?” Isla asked, brows raised.
“Yes, I do, actually. I feel quite calm. Rested, almost. That’s odd, isn’t it?”
“Not at all.” Isla patted his knee and stood. “Now, if you require aid later in the night when I am . . . indisposed”—she spread her hands helplessly—“I have no objections if you believe it would help you to sit in my cabin. I don’t know that proximity to me would matter, but stranger things have happened. You certainly won’t bother me.”
Lewis frowned. “You’re tired.”
Isla waved a hand in the air. “The magic hour is nearly upon me.” Her laugh sounded strained. She handed Daniel the pocket watch with a tight smile. “I’ll retire for bed, if you don’t mind. And Lewis, my offer is sincere.”
Lewis nodded and sat up. “Thank you. It is a comfort to know it’s extended.”
Daniel had been patient, but was now quite ready to tell Lewis to get off the cushion because he would need it later that night to camp on Isla’s floor. Isla surely had the best intentions, but Daniel couldn’t possibly sleep if he thought Lewis was going to turn into a wolf in her room, successful hypnosis or no.
Isla disappeared into her cabin and closed the door with a soft click.
Daniel looked at Lewis. “Are you tired enough to sleep now? You may use my bed; I don’t mind.”
Lewis shook his head and stood. “I can’t sleep here knowing I might awaken and think you’re a threat or a predator.” He gathered his discarded clothing and paused at the door. “I cannot thank you enough. For everything. For getting me out of London, for helping me find a new life across the world, for caring for me in my hour of need.” He gestured with his clothing-draped arms. “I am more grateful than I can express.”
Daniel waved a hand in dismissal. “Telescribe if you need me, or simply run up here and bang on the door. I know you would do the same for me, were the roles reversed.”
Lewis nodded. “Until tomorrow, my friend.”
“Sleep well.”
Daniel locked the door behind Lewis and then went to the connecting door. He knocked quietly, whispering, “Isla?”
“Yes?”
He wasn’t certain if he’d heard the response or imagined it. He cracked open the door. “May I enter?”
“Yes.”
He found Isla sitting cross-legged atop her bed still dressed in her daytime clothes. She buried her head in her hands, fingers tunneled through her hair.
“I knew it was taking a toll on you,” he muttered and put his hand atop hers. “Does this happen every time you work with a shifter?”
“Only those in extreme emotional crisis. My interactions are not usually so urgent or intense.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Tea. Last time I ‘fell asleep’ with a headache this severe, I was nearly blind with it when I awoke the next morning.” She closed her eyes. “It would also help tremendously if you could remove my hairpins.”
Daniel wrinkled his brow, wondering how to proceed. The pins were the same shade as her hair color; how was a person to find and remove them? He patted his fingertips along her upswept hair, which she was loosening ineffectually with her fingers as she massaged her scalp. She winced, and he nudged her hands away.
“You’re pulling your own hair. Be patient for a moment.”
She dropped her hands to her lap and closed her eyes as he gingerly felt for pins and hoped to high heaven he wasn’t adding to her headache.
“Cannot imagine why this is something women insist upon,” he muttered as he pulled the small implements from thick sections of hair. He placed the pins in her open palm and frowned at the ridiculous number her coiffure required.
“We must wear our hair up to maintain propriety for the menfolk.”
He raised a brow. “Is that bitterness in your voice, Dr. Cooper?” He pulled out two pins at once and several long strands came with them. She sucked in a breath, and he whispered an apology.
“I am never bitter.”
“Mmm. I do not think I believe you. However, you need not stand on ceremony for my sake. You wore it down in a long braid last week—the day of the storm. For the love of heaven, how many pins are in here?”
“You noticed my hair that day? How observant of you, Captain.”
He scowled, glad she couldn’t see the flush he felt creeping up his neck. “No. Well, I suppose only because it was different than every day before it.”
He glanced at her profile. She squeezed her eyes shut and furrowed her brows.
He smoothed his fingertip along her eyebrows. “Here, now. Do not pull everything so tight. It will be worse.”
She exhaled slowly and relaxed her face. He saw a tear seeping from the corner of her eye but didn’t draw attention to it. “Let us hope Lewis will be well enough on his own from this point. You cannot do that again,” he said quietly. “Not tonight.”
“I will be all right by morning.”
He’d never removed pins from a woman’s hair—not even his sister’s. Piece by piece, sections of curls fell and rippled across her shoulders and down her back. A long, silky curl lay across his arm, and it was quite the most intimate thing he’d ever seen.
“Next time you blackmail your way onto an airship, consider bringing along a maid.” He ran his fingers gently along her head, satisfied he’d removed every last infernal pin. “There.”
“I shall bear it in mind.” She smiled. “Thank you, Daniel. What is the time?”
He glanced at the clock on the wall. “One quarter ’til twelve. You need your tea,” he remembered. “I have some in my cabin, I believe, but it’s long since gone cold. I won’t have time to heat it before . . .” He swallowed, suddenly hating that curse. He hated that it took someone so vibrant and rendered her vulnerable and helpless.
“Cold tea is fine.” She began fumbling with her boots. “I’ll not bother changing my clothing tonight.”
Daniel quickly secured a teacup from his room and poured the cold tea through a strainer, grimacing. He carried it to her, hoping the fact that it was strong might prove serendipitously more effective since there was no time for a fresh pot to steep.
She had wrestled off one boot, and he made quick work of the other boot, dropping it to the floor with a thunk. She sipped the tea, shuddering involuntarily, and he winced in sympathy. She closed her eyes, and then tossed back the contents in a gulp worthy of a sailor on shore leave.
She handed him the empty cup and wiped her hand across her mouth.
He blinked, impressed.
“Curses,” she whispered and shook her hands absently. “It’s coming.”
“The sleep?”
She bit her lip. “The dark.” She wrinkled her brow again, and her eyes narrowed in pain.
His heart turned over. “I will be here.” His throat felt suddenly raw. “I’ll stay with you.”
She shook her head and straightened her spine, clawing at the fastenings on her corset. “You need your sleep. I find comfort in the open door.” Her fumbling fingers were ineffectual at releasing the securely-tied knots.
For the second time that night, he nudged her hands away and helped her with something that was for her a simple task. He wished more than anything he could ease her sense of embarrassment. “It is a good thing I have a sister, or I would have no idea how to do this.” He deftly untied the knot at the base of her corset.
“That sounds wrong.” Her voice grew drowsy. “You’ve never helped your sister remove a corset.”
“True enough,” he admitted. He frowned and loosened the corset with a few firm yanks. “Arms up.” She raised her arms, but weakly. He hurriedly tugged the contraption up and over her head, maneuvering clumsily around her arms, leaving the blouse beneath it in place but significantly less tight around her torso. “There.” He breathed a sigh of relief with her and slowly lowered her head to the pillow.
He hooked a foot around the nearby chair and slid it under him as her eyes began to drift closed.
“Go to bed,” she mumbled. “I’ll be fine . . .” Even as she put on a brave face, a tear escaped her closed eyes and trickled along her nose.
He thumbed it away, swallowing, his own eyes burning. “You’re safe,” he whispered. “I shall keep you safe.” He clasped her hand and rested his lips against her knuckles.
“ . . . hate the dark . . .” Her whispered words shuddered out on a sigh, and she was still.
Even having witnessed it before, Daniel hated it. She didn’t breathe again for thirty seconds, and within a few minutes, as he sat holding her hand, her skin began to cool.