Liz Tyner - Safe in the Earl's Arms

He slid back into the sleeping space. ‘My brother needs to get sailing out of his veins, return home and start a life there.’

‘You can’t fault him. The boat is his Chesapeake.’

‘Well, he’ll have to convince me we’ll find gold, silver and mountains of apple tarts to get me on board again.’

He could hear her silence. It wasn’t only that she was quiet—she was immobile. Not moving. Then she spoke. ‘Treasures convince people to risk much.’

Chapter Four

Warrington stepped out of the cabin. He’d not fallen asleep until dawn and the climbing temperatures of midday had awakened him. The sailors cleaned the deck, a daily job. They couldn’t risk growth of the green muck that flourished at sea emerging where men might slip.

Ben walked to his brother’s side, looking every bit a man without a care—even with clouds bundling above them. Air filling with steam. The sea too calm.

The unconcern in the men around him didn’t give Warrington a feeling of ease. He knew the men all too well. They didn’t fluster over a storm. They knew they’d either live or die through it and, either way, they’d still be at sea.

The captain leaned close to Warrington and spoke so no one else could hear. ‘Did you sleep well?’

Warrington ignored him. The young ferret could sniff for morsels awhile longer.

‘I’m thinking the earl is wantin’ for Stubby’s job.’ Gidley walked up. His whiskers quivered when he spoke. ‘Men said he emptied the pot three times in the night.’

‘Oh.’ Ben’s brows shot up. ‘I may have heard that rumour, too. When we get to London, I’m thinking he might become a lady’s maid.’ Ben looked to his brother and then jumped aside, dodging the boot swung at his heels.

‘For that...’ Ben’s chin went up ‘...you’re invited to spend the afternoon, and night, at the wheel.’

‘The woman’s in my bed.’ Warrington kept his voice light. ‘Mine. Slop bucket or no. My cabin. My bed. My woman. She’s perfection,’ Warrington added. He remembered the night before. Perfection—if you didn’t mind the greenish cast to her face. And seeing her fingers rubbing her own heated skin didn’t do him any favours. She must have touched that mark a thousand times and each time he’d become aroused.

And now a storm to toss the Ascalon about more. He was going to die before they reached port and without getting his own mast climbed. No. No matter what, he’d discover the real treasure before the storm hit.

‘You have any more of the medicinal you mentioned when we started out?’ Warrington spoke to Gidley.

The older man’s chin wobbled. ‘Two draughts.’

‘See that Melina gets them,’ Warrington told the first mate. ‘And remove the chair and table from my cabin. Get some bedding for her.’

‘Do as he says,’ Ben instructed Gidley, his voice light. ‘He’s not getting any younger and he needs all the help he can get.’

Gidley left to get the medicine and Ben looked at Warrington, saying, ‘I’d suggest, brother, that you attempt to manage—if you’re able—more than only a single tumble. I speak from experience when I say it is possible.’

Warrington’s hands tightened.

Ben put his hand at the back of his own neck, shut his eyes and rolled his head, then yawned. ‘I’ve had more than a lifetime of women already in my tender twenty-six—no, twenty-seven years—and probably your share, as well. That’s why you’re looking so sour at just past thirty. You’re fading and I’ve bedded more women than you could ever hope to count.’

‘If we take away the ones you’ve paid, how big would the number be then?’

‘Only ones worth having.’ Ben gave another stretch.

‘Said by a man who has only the single way of attracting a woman.’

‘At least when I pay,’ he drawled out the last word, ‘I manage to get her bedded.’

‘I’m sure they do so quickly so they can see the last of you.’

Ben laughed in response, but Warrington knew his brother had a point. In the night, he’d wanted to touch Melina. And he hadn’t. He’d not been able to reach out for a moment.

‘Ben...’ Warrington looked at the darkening clouds above ‘...do you ever fear dying at sea?’

Ben shook his head. ‘Man has to go some time. Best to be doing what he loves when his toes turn up.’

‘Then I will feel no regret for killing you if you don’t relieve me from the wheel before the storm hits.’

Ben laughed. ‘Give the medicinal time to work. Later, I’ll give you time to go “courting”. When you get to her, explain you must finish quickly so you may return to your duties.’ He tilted his head and stared upwards. ‘What’s a brother for if not to give the elder an excuse for rushing about?’

‘I have not once, in my entire life, concerned myself with your bedding habits,’ Warrington grumbled, glaring at Ben. ‘Not once.’

The captain tilted his head sideways and his tone was mournful. ‘Sadly, I know why. You would be distraught at what wonders you have missed in your own experience.’ He turned, glancing over the deck, appraising the ship. ‘I have some good wine. Come to my cabin and have a swallow while you’re resting up for the woman.’

Warrington shook his head and walked towards the aft deck, ducking his head from the ropes jutting out above. He could use some refreshment after the night he’d had, but he didn’t relish more of his brother’s company.

‘The wine is quite good. Worth what I paid.’ Ben lowered his head as well when he stepped beside War. ‘And I’ll not needle you any more.’

Warrington snorted, but followed Ben.

The quiet click of their boots as they moved to the cabin blended with the movement of the boat, and the murmurs of the sailors keeping their voices low so orders could be heard.

Inside the room, Ben reached to pull a bottle from a crate. The cork slid free of the neck with a comforting pop. Ben handed the drink to Warrington, who leaned against the door.

Warrington looked to Ben’s berth, which didn’t have the storage overhead. The bed wasn’t bigger, but the room itself was more than double the size of the others, with two windows instead of one. A miniature was affixed to the front of the cabinet and Warrington knew, if he looked closely, that the painting was of a mermaid—Ben’s version of a perfect woman.

The wine’s sweetness rested well on Warrington’s tongue. He handed the drink back to Ben, who dropped himself in the chair and helped himself to a hearty swallow.

Warrington snatched the bottle before Ben had a chance to put it down. ‘Every time the boat touched the smallest ripple, the noises she made woke me. She turned green to her toes, I wager. I’d have had more rest on deck—except the men would have made too much sport of it.’

‘You brought her on board.’

‘Had to stay awake to make sure the lantern didn’t falter. She couldn’t stand the dark—made her worse. Every time I convinced her to turn out the light, in a few minutes I was lighting it again. I finally persuaded her to lie down in the berth.’

‘So you were able to enjoy her.’

Warrington took a long swallow of the wine, frowned and looked at Ben. ‘Think of the width and height of my berth. Two squirrels could hardly mate in it.’

Ben raised his brows and put a hand to his chest. His voice became overly concerned. ‘I feel saddened for you and I don’t wish you more distress. Send her to my cabin. I’ll play nursery maid tonight.’

‘Not bloody likely. I did everything but rub her feet to soothe her. I will be enjoying the lady’s favours.’

‘Maybe you should have rubbed her feet.’

‘She wouldn’t let me.’

‘What can I say, old man, except send her my way.’ Ben clasped his hands behind his head. ‘I’ve a special remedy that eases any discomfort a woman might have. One look at it and she forgets all else.’