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"I remember one particularly fierce storm in the Mediterranean. I had just turned eighteen. My captain asked me to shimmy up the mainmast and fix the rigging that had been torn to shreds by the slicing winds. The rain was so cold, my fingers instantly numbed ... but I forced myself to ignore the stinging pain. I had no choice—no one else was skilled enough to repair the badly tattered jibs and topsails. The sole other crewman adept enough to assist me was a youngster named Haber—he couldn't have been more than fourteen. He was a skinny, freckled lad who had a hell of a talent with rigging, and a gentle, amenable nature; always grinning, always helpful. Without a single complaint, he maneuvered his way up and climbed out to work beside me. I remember tying that last bloody section of rigging, hearing Haber's jubilant whistle over the crashing of the waves. I made my way back to the mast just as a blast of wind struck, pitching the ship—and us—violently. I grabbed onto the mainmast, held on with every fiber of my being ... and reached for Haber with my free arm. I can still see the look of terror on his face. He couldn't reach me—nor I him— and he was just too bloody frail to hold on. He fell to his death right before my eyes ... and there wasn't a damned thing I could do to stop it. To this day, I can still hear his scream, see the waves drag him under."
Rem stared down at his shaking hands. "And, yes, there were the battles. Sick, needless bloodshed that I loathed but could do nothing to prevent. And then at Trafalgar. . ." Having unlocked his carefully sealed chasm of pain, Rem couldn't seem to stop talking. "Do you have any idea what it was like for me to watch him dying? Not a quick, painless death, but a slow, agonizing one?"
"Admiral Nelson?" Sammy managed. "Was the Ares that close to the Victory? You actually saw him struck?"
"Our ships were directly beside each other," Rem replied woodenly. "The battle commenced just before noon. The Victory was one of the first two ships to cross over the enemy line ... despite all the warnings Admiral Nelson received that, as the fleet's commanding officer, he should not expose himself to the grave danger evoked by leading the way into battle. Nelson scoffed, entertaining no thought for his own personal safety, concerned only with annihilating the enemy.
"An hour later the Victory had been crippled; the wheel shattered, the sails demolished, the bow torn by cannon fire. She continued to be under direct siege. The Ares came to her aid. It was just shy of half after one when I saw Admiral Nelson go down on the Victory's quarterdeck. It was bad; I knew it the moment the surgeon examined him and ordered his men to take Nelson below. They complied. That was the last time I saw the admiral alive." Rem swallowed. "Later, I learned that a musket ball had pierced his chest, shattered his lung and lodged in his back. By half after four he was gone."
"Oh, Rem . . ."
Rem continued as if Sammy hadn't spoken. "The triumph was his, everything he'd ever hoped to accomplish. But instead of standing proudly at the head of his fleet, celebrating the downfall of Napoleon's navy, he was lying beneath the Victory's gun deck bleeding to death. He'd given so much to England, had so much more yet to give. And to what end? Where is the justice, Samantha? Tell me that— where is the goodness you seem always to find?"
"There is no justice." Sammy lay a trembling hand on Rem's jaw. "Not in this case. But there is goodness. Admiral Nelson was a hero in the truest sense of the word ... and not only because he gave his life for his country, but because he dedicated his life to it. You said it yourself, he'd accomplished all he intended, and more.
"Tell me this, Rem: would Lord Nelson be proud of Trafalgar's outcome? Would he applaud the victory he'd ensured and his fleet had achieved?"
Slowly, Rem nodded. "Yes. That was my sole consolation. We attained precisely what Admiral Nelson sought: the total obliteration of Napoleon's navy. We took nineteen French and Spanish ships as prizes, yet gave up none of our own. Yes, Nelson would have reveled in our triumph."
"Then he's at peace, Rem. Moreover, he will never truly die, for no one will ever forget him; not his countrymen, and certainly not those who were lucky enough to serve by his side. Is that not goodness?"
"I suppose it is. It is also the only reality that has granted me some measure of my own peace."
"But it's not enough comfort for you to allow yourself the risk of caring."
Rem blinked, seeming to return from some faraway place. "I do care, Samantha. Just not with the same full and untainted heart as you do."
"Given your feelings, why didn't you resign from the navy immediately after Trafalgar?"
Was it her imagination, or did Rem stiffen?
"I considered it. To some extent, I did. As I told you, my consistent, active duty ceased after Trafalgar. With an occasional commission during our latest war with America, I've been landed for nearly a decade now, training our future officers for whatever fate holds in store for them. Sadly, there are certain things I cannot simulate, no matter how vast my experience. Each man must confront those things on his own ... and grapple with them in his own mind and heart."
"I love you now even more than I did before."
A tender smile touched Rem's lips and he pressed Sammy's head to his chest. "Do you, imp? I'm glad."
Laying her palm over his heart, Sammy asked softly, "There's still something more, isn't there?"
This time it was not her imagination: she felt Rem's muscles contract like a bowstring, shock rippling through them in harsh waves.
"No."
"Is it that you don't trust me?"
"Dammit, Samantha!" Rem jerked away, alarmed by her unexpected show of insight. This was one territory he dared not let her tread, one truth he could not permit her to uncover. "Of course I trust you. I've shared more with you this past hour than I've shared with another soul in over a decade." His jaw set. "But I've stripped away as many layers of myself as I intend to. No matter how close we've become, there's something you must understand. I've lived one and thirty years on my own, unconstrained and independent. I can't—won't—change. So do not, in that stubbornly romantic mind of yours, assume that I will suddenly begin to report my every action and confide my every thought."
"Not even to me?"
"No. Not even to you." Samantha'
s pain gripped Rem as fiercely as if it were his own, but he fought it, knowing that in this case he had no choice. In order to protect his cause, and her safety, he had to keep the portion of his life that belonged to the Admiralty and to England carefully concealed. "Samantha, you're going to be my wife, and I'm going to do my damnedest to make you happy. But as I've continually told you, your idea of love and marriage is infinitely more all-encompassing than mine. I'll compromise where I can, but don't expect me to bare my soul as you do; it's an impossibility. Accept it—for both our sakes."
"I can't."
"You must." He turned to face her. "I'll indulge you in all ways I can—all but this. I am as I am, imp."
Sammy's eyes grew suspiciously bright. "Would you please take me home now? You've given me a great deal to ponder."
