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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.
‘I hate you, Stephanos,’ she whispered to the empty room while wiping away the moisture at her brow—for a moment, uncaring if the ship dropped under a wave, and kept plunging. Sinking would still the movement and silence the ship. Ascalon creaked and groaned, complaining more than any person she’d ever heard. She didn’t see how something could stay afloat while protesting so much.
The shadows in the room grew longer. The rocking motion made the walls move as if they reached to squeeze her in an embrace. Her lungs could hardly fill with air. She already felt she was drowning.
Without thinking, she jumped up and pulled open the door. She had to escape—to breathe.
Stepping on to the deck, she could see enough in front of her to realise the vastness of the water. The liquid reached to the end of the world. And she could run no direction to escape.
Melina would kiss Stephanos’s feet—each naked toe if he asked—to get back to her home. She pulled the door shut behind her and pressed her back to the wood, her fingers grasping for something to hold herself still. Now she didn’t care that she’d planned to leave the island for months and swore she’d do whatever the journey took. The sacrifice was too great.
Taking a breath, Melina took stock of her surroundings. She didn’t smile or look directly at any of the men. She did not want more concerns.
Two men sitting on crates immediately dropped their heads and studied the frazzled bits of rope in their hands. They continued twisting the frayed hemp back into shape. Everything on deck, but the boxes the men used, was lashed down.
She let out a breath, putting her hand at her stomach. Walking to the railing, she leaned against the barrier keeping her from the water, facing forward, feeling the comfort of the breeze.
Only a day before, Melina could not have imagined herself drinking a vile concoction, after spending the night inside a bobbing box at sea, with a silent man watching her cast up her accounts and him trying to calm her so he could bed her.
She’d bargained with Warrington and taken a risk, and she didn’t regret it, but she wasn’t certain her promise wasn’t troubling her stomach as much as the ship.
Shutting her eyes didn’t help. When she opened them nothing had changed.
Something—a hand—grabbed her elbow and she jumped, darting back from the railing.
‘You needin’ help, miss?’ The reedy voice of Gidley jarred her, and even in the dusk, she could see enough to recognise him leaning towards her in concern.
‘I’m well,’ she muttered. ‘I just needed air. My—’ She pulled her elbow from his grasp and touched over her stomach, taking care not to pat it. ‘I am not good over water...and...’ Things kept moving in front of her when she knew they were really immobile. ‘I keep being ill.’
He stepped back, a bundle tucked under one arm. ‘If yer need the earl, he’s at the helm.’ He lowered his voice, whispering, ‘He can prob’ly hear us yappin’ now. ’Less the wind is howling, yer can hear a sniffle from anywhere on deck. But yer need to take care. This be the bit of quiet before the storm slaps our masts up our...nose.’
She shook her head. Her bun slid back on her head and she hoped the darkness covered her dishevelment.
‘Yer want me to show you how well sound can carry, I’ll start singin’ and in a whisker shake, his lordship will start swearin’ at me to shut my mouth.’
‘No. I thank you,’ she answered.
He tipped his chin to her. ‘Well, I’m puttin’ this bedding inside yer cabin.’ He let his words ring loud. ‘Yer get tired of that peer and want to see what a real man can do, just say the word. Might not be the sea makin’ you ill. But the comp’ny yer keepin’.’
He gave her a fatherly pat on the arm before scooting her aside to open the cabin door and toss the bundle inside. He left, humming.
‘Melina.’ She heard the muffled shout of Warrington’s voice and turned towards the sound. She crept slowly until she saw his outline at the stern, holding the wheel. The night made him darker, and maybe taller, she wasn’t sure. Even the wheel seemed smaller with him holding it.
‘You should be in the cabin. You could fall against something, or stumble overboard.’ He raised his voice. ‘Or have to speak to someone like Gidley, who can’t sing and wouldn’t know what to do with a woman.’
She heard a chuckle wafting back through the air—and then another.
One more voice—a strong baritone she didn’t recognise—called out and she wasn’t even sure of the direction. ‘When I’m finished with a woman, she’s the one singing—my praises. Send her my way if she can’t sleep.’
Warrington snapped out, ‘You’re going to find yourself upside down and hanging from a mast if you don’t take care.’
‘Best leave his lordship be,’ an unrecognisable voice shouted.
Melina guessed the words came from Gidley, but she wasn’t sure.
‘His mama didn’t teach him to share,’ the man continued to taunt.
Warrington put his words low, snapped them together and spoke to her. ‘Are you pleased with the discussion you have caused?’
‘The only grumbler is his lordship,’ Melina said.
‘You tell ’im, sweet,’ a voice rang out.
‘Anyone touches her, they go overboard,’ Warrington said, his voice not overly loud, but with enough force to take the sound to the tips of the sails.
‘Including the captain?’ someone asked from the shadows.
‘Especially the captain.’
Melina crossed her arms and put challenge in her voice. She turned to face him. ‘It is a good thing I am fond of his lordship, then, so no one will have to go into the sea.’ Her lips turned up and she put her chin closer to his. ‘Besides, he’s the only man who’s ever emptied my pails.’
Whistles sounded, mixed with a few muffled hoots.
He stepped sideways enough to hold the wheel with one hand and snake the other around her waist, pulling her so close she could feel the heat of his breath and hear his rough whisper. ‘I should never have brought you.’
She turned, her hair catching in the bristles on his chin. ‘I know,’ she replied in kind. ‘But I’m here and the ship can’t turn back.’
His fingers loosened on her waist and as she moved away, he took a step, scooping her closer. Before her feet settled, she found herself tucked between the wheel and a firm male. Both his hands steered Ascalon. She had room to breathe and little else.
‘You might as well learn to guide the ship.’ Warrington leaned to whisper to her ear. ‘You’re not going anywhere for a while.’
She tried to push away, but he trapped her and she couldn’t leave.
‘Let’s not let the seamen think we’re having a lovers’ quarrel,’ he whispered.
‘I don’t feel well.’ She spoke between gritted teeth.
‘Then try to miss the boots.’
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