“Life awaits us beyond the harbor. Let's go see what we can discover.” The prompt tugged at Katerina's heart. She knew the journey would take over a week

—likely closer to two—depending on the cooperation of the winds. They would

hug the coast of Europe, skimming France, Spain, and Portugal before passing the Rock of Gibraltar. From there it was a straight shot across the Mediterranean

to Livorno.

Perhaps there I can understand how my story began, and why. Though she

would never be able to put it into words, she had the strong sensation that knowing how she came to be would help her lay some of her ghosts to rest.

Joining an endless queue of passengers, they made their slow way up to the

ship and then headed to their cabin. A bed extended below the small room's porthole, made up with a deep blue coverlet. Dark wainscoting on the lower walls contrasted with plain white painted plaster above. There was a small built-in table and the matching chair looked to be heavy, which no doubt prevented it

from falling over in rough weather. Katerina dropped her bag on the floor inside

the door and sank to a seat on the narrow bed.

“This is much smaller than we're used to,” he said.

She shrugged. “I don't mind. Most of that space goes unused anyway.”

He seemed to imagine them twined together, the way they normally slept,

and the unspoken thoughts chasing across his face forced her to tug him closer,

so they could share a hot, deep kiss, stroking each other with eager hands.

“Enough, love,” Christopher told his wife eventually, his breathing uneven,

“we should go above decks.”

“Why?” she sulked, trying to draw his head back down.

He wriggled out of her grip. “Don't you want to see the ship leave the

harbor?”

“Oh, I suppose.” She sighed.

“We have many nights to spend in this cabin,” he reminded her.

“True. One more kiss, and then we'll go up.”

Christopher acquiesced, perhaps too willingly. By the time they emerged on

deck, so many minutes had passed that all the spots along the rail were full.

Thankfully, Katerina was tall enough to look over the heads of a passel of red-

haired children and see the departure.

The sunlight touched her face, bringing a hint of warmth to the chill of winter. She took another deep breath. Though still cold, the sky looked less ominous, the gray lightening to almost a friendly silver, the shade of her husband's eyes.

Fat billows of clouds, pure white and clean, meandered slowly across the

heavens, so unlike the smoggy haze that hung perpetually over London. This place was fresher, and in it, she felt cleaner and lighter. I'm leaving England for the first time in my life, and there's no telling what this trip to Italy will bring.

She waved to strangers across the steely gray water for a long time, and then land disappeared from view and the vast ocean stretched before them. Behind them, a lone storm cloud floated ominously on the horizon.

They couldn't see him, but Giovanni Valentino stood on the docks, cursing vilely. He had attempted to snatch his daughter away in the crowd but had not managed it. A horde of urchins had rushed between him and his prey, hurrying to

find a good position from which to watch the ship leave the harbor, and by the

time the group had passed, she was out of reach.

This isn't over, puttana. I'll get you in the end, and when I do, you'll rue theday you deserted me.

CHAPTER 14

C hristopher strode into the cabin, two glasses in one hand, a bottle of

wine in the other. Shouldering open the door, he stopped and sighed.

“Sick again, love?”

Katerina—who had been perched on the edge of the bed in her shift and

bloomers, her head in both hands—flopped onto her back, groaning.

Christopher set the bottle and glasses on the table and joined his wife, shifting her so her cheek lay on his shoulder. She nuzzled into his neck.

“In planning this trip, it seems we forgot to take the possibility of seasickness

into account.”

“I suppose so,” she said in a thin, uncomfortable voice.

“Lie still, then. Doesn't that help?”

“It does.” Already, she sounded stronger. “As long as I'm prone, I feel

normal, but the second I get up…”