Tides of deception ✺ Outlander/Stephen Bonnet Fanfic

♤40 Different

The gentle rocking of the ship cradled Julie as she lay in the cabin's small, worn bed, yet sleep didn't come easily. Declan had set up a hammock across from her, his large frame shifting every now and then as he adjusted to the swaying of the ship. The cabin was cramped and modest, with rough wooden walls that creaked under the pressure of the waves. The faint smell of saltwater mixed with tar lingered in the air, along with the distant sounds of the crew moving above deck. A small lantern cast a soft, flickering light over them, making the shadows dance around the cabin, lending it a ghostly, transient feel.

Julie turned onto her side, watching Declan as he settled into his hammock, his back turned to her to offer her privacy. She appreciated his respect for her space, an unspoken reassurance that even on this strange journey, there was a measure of safety and decency. He had explained to her earlier that Stephen had arranged an apartment in London-a place far from the public eye, where she could catch her breath without the whispers of high society echoing in her ear. The idea of a safe place sounded too good to be true, a quiet promise of freedom from the Duke's oppressive reach.

Her thoughts drifted to the unknown life ahead of her in London. Stephen and Maria's aid, though unexpected, was a glimmer of hope, an anchor in the storm of her current life. The faint creak of Declan shifting in the hammock pulled her back to the present. Though he seemed distant, almost stern, Declan had been nothing but kind to her since they'd embarked on this journey. His calmness eased her anxiety, yet she sensed an air of detachment about him-a sense of purpose that left little room for connection.

Julie closed her eyes, trying to let the waves lull her to sleep. But memories surged back-the lavish parties she'd once attended, where she wore gowns and jewels, carrying herself with a grace expected of a duchess. Now, she was in a simple nightgown, adrift on a ship bound for an uncertain future. It was a strange relief, like shedding a heavy, ill-fitting cloak. But the relief came laced with fear. Who would she be in London, alone?

Declan's voice, calm and even, broke the silence as he turned slightly toward her. "Get some rest, Miss Julie," he said, his tone softer than usual. "We'll be in London soon. The captain knows you've been through a lot, and he's asked me to see to it that you're comfortable."

Julie nodded, though he could only see her silhouette in the low light. "Thank you, Declan," she whispered, the words almost swallowed by the sound of the waves. The idea of a safe haven brought her some comfort, and though Stephen's plan was far from clear, his intervention gave her a shred of hope she hadn't felt in a long time.

As Declan settled into the rhythm of his breathing, she let her own breaths match the gentle rocking of the ship, feeling the first waves of sleep begin to settle over her, hopeful that, for tonight at least, she might find peace.

✺
Anita sat by her small writing desk, the afternoon light slanting through her parlor window and casting soft patterns across the parchment. The invitation lay open in her hands, her eyes scanning over each word again, as if the letters might suddenly change and reveal some hidden meaning. She was more than a little surprised. A masquerade ball, hosted by Stephen and Bernie, and she among the invited. It felt almost... suspicious.

A small smirk touched her lips, but it faded quickly, replaced by a tense crease in her brow. She'd been responsible for more than her share of whispers about Stephen-small jabs here, rumors there, a healthy blend of intrigue and scandal to keep herself entertained. And yet, despite the stories circulating among the town, he had still invited her.

Her fingers traced the edge of the thick, expensive paper, feeling a shiver of excitement mingled with something heavier. For all her brashness and love of stirring the pot, Anita was not immune to the undercurrents of fear, even if she'd never admit it. She knew that Stephen had a reputation beyond his charming smile, and Bernie's connections ran deeper than she cared to acknowledge. Yet, curiosity pulled at her, stronger than caution.