Liz Tyner - Safe in the Earl's Arms

‘You’d best see the ship sails like treacle poured across a plate tonight, or I will be pounding on your door.’

Ben held out his hand, indicating time to return the bottle. He might as well have been looking over the top of spectacles in a schoolroom. ‘I think you let her make excuses.’

‘I do not,’ Warrington repeated, and then smiled. ‘Every time I looked at her I could see that little mark, like a drawing of breasts.’

‘It looks like a woman’s bottom.’

‘No.’ Warrington spoke with certainty. ‘Breasts.’

They were silent for a moment, then Ben held his hand out, palm raised, and didn’t lower it.

Warrington gave him the bottle.

Ben took a drink. He put the wine in front of him. ‘Just don’t forget she’ll be plying her trade on the docks when we reach port. Saw an opportunity to get to London and she took it. Doesn’t change what she is.’

‘I don’t care what she is. She’s in my bed and she’s going to do as she agreed. Then we dock and she goes on her way.’

‘Now you’re thinking. Not like with—’

‘Stubble it, Ben.’ He didn’t need reminding about his dead wife, the beautiful Cassandra, who always wore chemises that smelled of roses.

He knew he’d been a fool with her, two times over. And both his brothers knew. And the servants. Or at least they all imagined they did. He didn’t think anyone but himself realised how truly addled he’d been. At least afterwards he’d been able to let them believe most of his feelings were rage towards her.

But he’d grieved for her and not been able to pretend otherwise enough to fool his brothers. Only the misery of being trapped on a ship at sea, with conditions that might have otherwise driven him mad, had brought back his mind to reality.

He could see Cassandra for what she was, but that also meant he could see himself for what he was.

He’d not been able to stop wanting her. He’d hated himself for his desire.

‘Oddest thing came to me when I shaved.’ Ben gave a slight shake of his head. ‘Think I’ve seen your berth mate before.’

His thoughts snagged on Ben’s words. ‘The island?’

‘Never been to Melos before. Couldn’t be.’

‘But how could you forget a woman with a face like hers?’

‘Didn’t exactly forget her. Just can’t remember where I saw her. And I know I saw her.’

‘You told me all women look alike to you.’

‘In bed.’ Ben shrugged. ‘But I don’t think that’s where I saw her.’

Warrington felt the betrayal of his past again and anger with himself for having concern for a woman he didn’t trust. ‘I suppose I can ask her why she speaks so plain. It would not be unusual if she spoke French, or if she spoke a few words of rough English. But she speaks better than some of the seamen, even with her Greek flavour. I noticed on the island, but once she dropped her shawl, I lost interest in her speech.’

‘But she’s not said eros. Perhaps it’s the company she’s keeping.’

‘So you remembered one word from the tutor you tortured. Eros. I am not surprised. But she’s been paid—her passage—she’ll say it. And you’ll leave her be.’

‘Of course.’ Ben stretched out his arms, before clasping his hands behind his neck and grinning. ‘But don’t be surprised if she changes affections and decides she can’t stay away from me.’ He leaned back enough that the front legs of his chair lifted, completely at ease with the ship’s motions.

‘You touch her, little brother, and there are not enough men on this ship to keep you alive.’

‘You talk here and the woman is in the cabin regretting she did not get her captain.’

‘When we get to London, I’m sinking my half of the ship.’

Ben again leaned towards him. ‘Let’s just hope you don’t sink my half before we get there.’

Warrington kept himself from kicking the legs out from his brother’s chair. He truly didn’t want him hurt, but unsettled would be nice. Warrington crashed the door shut behind him when he left and hoped his brother’s ears rang.

He went to take his turn at the wheel, but knowing, before the night was out, Melina would soothe the memories that plagued him.

Chapter Five

Melina didn’t know whether she’d stepped closer to devastation or further away. The boat wobbled so much she thought her knees would buckle as she stood.

The cabin boy fidgeted at the door, holding several biscuits in one hand, and a cup of liquid in the other, which smelled the same as soured goat milk. ‘First mate says to drink the broth he had made from his special mix-up and we don’t have no choice when he says things. This won’t kill you, but it’ll give you some ballast in your stern. Keep you from going belly up.’

She took the offering from him.

‘Anything else you be needing, I’s your man.’ He plunked his finger against his chest—or where his chest would be once he grew. She didn’t think him aged more than most men’s boots. His red hair was streaked with dark strands. The locks fell across his eyes, but didn’t conceal the watchfulness behind them. ‘Gidley says I’m not to leave your side until you drink the last drop. He says I’m not to let you pour it overboard, either. Gidley says I should watch you with my own vision. Gidley says not to trust you ’cause of you being female.’

‘How old are you?’ she asked.

His face furrowed. ‘I be old enough. I keep working like I do—I’ll have my own ship some day. I want to sail on a man-o’-war. I’ll be...’ he straightened his shoulders and glowered ‘...tougher than any privateer, pirate or first mate. Gidley says first mates are toughest of them all.’

‘Malista,’ she answered. ‘Yes.’ She nodded, about to step back and shut him outside.

He put one scruffy bare foot to block the closing of the door. ‘Only toes I have, ’cept on the other side. Would sure hate to lose ’em.’

‘If I drink this, you might not wish to see the results.’

He waved a hand, indicating unconcern. ‘It’s your belly.’

She firmed herself and drank half the cup. ‘I’ll not take any more and the rest goes into the pot and neither of us will tell Gidley.’

‘Won’t pickle me none.’ He grinned at her, the smudge of dirt on his face wrinkling. ‘I’ll empty your slop bucket and no one will know.’

She stepped back so he didn’t knock her askew when he moved inside. He grabbed the pail, held it for her to pour away the medicine and looked at her.

He whispered, but his words near shouted he spoke so loud. ‘Where’s the treasure?’

She didn’t answer.

He bunched his lips, then moved his jaw from side to side as if the movement helped him think. ‘Gidley said you had a treasure for the earl. I figure it has to be in the parcel Warrin’ton hauled up. Jewels?’

She shook her head. ‘Some stone. Nothing you’d be interested in.’

‘Like rocks?’ His eyes lit up. ‘Gold ones?’

She shook her head. ‘Not gold.’

He frowned. ‘I was hoping to see me some gold. No use for rocks on Ascalon, ’cept for ballast.’ He turned, rushing out, barely letting his dirt-encrusted feet skim the planks.

Melina looked at the boards above her head, remembering the catacombs she and her sisters had explored, but they never stayed long in the darkness. She’d only explored inside to prove her bravery. Now the shadows outside the window increased her fears even as she told herself nothing had changed, but the sea had roughened.

Each lunge of the ship into the unsettled water slapped her stomach with the feeling of being in front of a battering ram. She stood, reaching out to the door, palms against the wood.

The image of Stephanos, the man she had fled, entered her mind.