Safe in the Earl's Arms

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.’

Chapter Six

Melina’s warmth overpowered Warrington. He gripped the wheel hard, trying to ignore her body—but he could not ignore anything about her. He could only tell his heart to quit beating so loudly she might hear.

Her skirts tangled in his legs and when she moved the slightest, her backside brushed against him, causing his fingers to lock on to the wheel’s spindles with such force he expected the wood to shatter. And when she put her foot down on his boot, and then sidestepped to avoid his feet, even more of her pressed against him. He was stoked into heated readiness.

The sea’s moisture penetrated her clothing, bringing the scent of a stringent soap to his nose along with the spiced fragrance he’d noticed. But he inhaled again—because mixed with her skin, the soap reminded him of a woman’s purity—something he’d never felt before in his arms.

He savoured the moments with her and, for the first time since the newness had worn thin, relished a moment at sea.

‘I think you’ve impressed the men enough with your mastery over me now,’ she whispered. ‘You may release me.’

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead he lowered his head. ‘I do not think they are convinced—yet,’ and as he said the last word, his lips tasted the skin at her neck. He wasn’t disappointed.

A shrill, vulgar whistle interrupted and he pulled back.

‘I cannot believe you men are ignoring your duties,’ he called out after he’d turned his head so he could raise his voice without hurting her ear, ‘simply because Melina cannot stay from my side.’

He heard her intake of breath, but before she could speak, he put his fingers lightly over her arm. ‘Don’t say more,’ he whispered, ‘and they’ll go back to their work.’

She gave a quick nod and he dropped his fingers.

‘Melina.’ He made sure no one could hear. ‘If I release you...’ inwardly he cursed himself ‘...will you go straight back to the cabin?’

She opened her mouth to speak and then took a breath before answering. ‘Yes, but...’

‘You may stay if you wish.’

Her voice was hushed. ‘The room—the walls—it reminds me of a cave... I hate caves...’

He held her waist and his hand instantly warmed from her skin. ‘I understand. I was daft to step foot on this ship. I never plan to let my feet leave dry land again—but I’m pleased I sailed. I saw what I left behind.’

‘Your wife is gone, but you have a woman there you care for?’

He shook his head. ‘I do not.’ He heard the coarseness of his tone and softened his words, speaking low, near her ear. ‘I’ve spent little time with a woman this past year.’ A breeze blew over his face and whipped at his clothing.

‘My wife, Cass, died nearly a year ago, or beyond,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure. I refuse to remember the dates. The days. She left behind two children. But I have to get home to my son. I’ve left him too much. I had him brought to my town house to visit me, but I’ve not returned to Whitegate since my wife died.’ He paused. ‘No. I have no woman. I have not had one for a long time.’

‘I would have still bargained with you had you been wed. I had to leave.’

‘I understand.’ His lips were only a shudder from her ear, and he let his face rest against her head. ‘But my brother would be holding you now, not I, if I still had a wife at home.’ She shivered, but he didn’t know if it was from his actions or his words or his nearness.

‘Truly?’ she asked.

‘Yes, I suppose. Perhaps not. But Ben would have known had I been untrue to Cass and that would have bothered me, though he wouldn’t have cared. As I am the eldest, I should lead the family.’

‘Not all the oldest of the family lead.’ Her voice, soft, brushed against him like a caress. ‘My mother cared for us on Melos. Father would leave for a long time and then he would return, laughing at how much we’d grown. Sometimes he would stay a short while. Sometimes a year or more. Mother still took care of our home just as she did when alone.’

‘My wife left all in the hands of the servants, but they took great care not to anger her.’ He’d never spoken such to anyone. Nights with poor sleep and wondering if he might die when the ship caught ablaze, and then having such warmth in his arms melted into him had loosened his tongue. And made his memories not so harsh.

‘In her youth,’ he continued, ‘my wife nearly died and her family feared for her life.’ He brushed at the hair fallen from Melina’s pins. She had as much of her locks on her shoulders as she had in place. ‘Her parents adored Cassandra. Plus, she was a beauty and they treated her as porcelain. Her older sister, Daphne, missed Cass when we married, so I welcomed Daphne to visit. Daph loved her sister so much. In no time, Daphne was family to me and Cassandra was a doll we both adored.’

He stepped back, moving aside. The talk of Cass had stirred unpleasant memories. And he had a woman in his arms who could take his mind from Cassandra. Now was not the moment to think of the past. Any longer with Melina and he would not be able to keep his hands from roaming her body. ‘Your hair is falling to your shoulders. Go to the cabin and try to sleep if you can,’ he directed her, feeling a distant coolness replacing the warmth of having her close. ‘I will follow soon.’

She gave a quick nod and walked away, staying away from the outer rails.

He sniffed the air. He was not a seasoned sailor and he knew a storm was on the way. The seas had roughened. He called out for someone to take his place at the helm.

And while he waited, he told himself to remember that Melina was little more to him than an imagination. When they docked, she would disappear—just like the dream he created of her.

* * *

Melina sat on the floor, head back against the wood, eyes closed, propped against a bundle of bedding. He clicked the door shut behind him just as lightning flashed at the window. She jumped, blinked twice and struggled to find words. ‘The sea is rough,’ she said, voice unsteady.

‘We’ll take your mind from it.’ He leaned towards her, took her hand and pulled her to her feet. Just the touch of her made every bucket worth it. He slipped his arms around her and buried his face against the soft skin of her neck. He smiled when a hint of sweet spice reached his nose. She smelled like something of a holiday. Of gaiety. Mulled wine. Exotic treats.

Her clothing bunched under his hands and he covered her back with his touch. He needed nothing more than her in his arms. She soothed him—something he’d not expected. Feeling the softness of her earlobe with his face, he savoured her. But she remained still, letting him caress and giving no response.

Warrington stood back from her and took off his coat, putting it on the peg. After wishing the ship’s movement hadn’t hit her so hard, he remembered the rough days when he’d first set out. No one should feel so unsettled.

Warrington took her chin, lifted it and brushed a kiss across her lips. His body flamed from just the merest touch of her. He whispered against her skin, ‘You’ll have to imagine all the fine things that should surround someone as lovely as you.’

He understood her reluctance. She didn’t know how they’d find the room, probably expecting nothing more than the sort of encounter a rushed man gave a woman who had to be on to her next business. The two of them simply could not fit on the bed. Not only could they not lie side by side, but the cabinets overhead prevented other arrangements. He’d spent some time thinking of the best way to accomplish a blissful encounter. Even as he released her, the ship kept rocking in such a way they could hardly keep from stumbling into each other.

Warrington reached for the bedding bundle, which rolled about, knocking into his legs, and with a few tugs and a quick flick spread the bedding on the floor. The chair and table were gone. She stepped back, flattening herself against the wall.

Pulling the mattress and coverings from his berth, he put it against the ones on the floor, adding softness. He fell to his knees to finish making the pallet. He’d never, ever knelt in front of a woman—but no matter. Running a hand over the bedding, he smoothed edges together.

He stood, examining her in the lantern light.

Brown eyes—lovely, enticing—stared back at him. She didn’t look pleased to see the covers on the floor, but he couldn’t fault her.

‘I assure you, if we were in London, I’d find a bed for us so soft you’d think of clouds.’ He wanted her to understand—he took this seriously.

The pallor in her face slowed his movements. She had to know the bed wasn’t his choice.

‘There’s no bigger cabin, except Ben’s,’ he told her, ‘and he is captain, so it’s rather hard to shove him out through the door.’

‘I’m... This is fine.’ She dropped to her knees, pulling the top covers in place and brushing her hand across them. She lowered her chin. ‘You know I’m not... The ship is moving more and...’ She touched her stomach.

He knelt, reaching out for her shoulder, feeling the roughness of the sleeve. ‘Melina—if you’ve any compassion at all, try to keep from being ill for a bit longer. I can... But with the storm coming and...’

She pulled back. ‘This is not the storm?’

He’d said the wrong thing. ‘A few raindrops. Ben thinks we’ll sail through without a bobble.’

The ship heaved and she moved backwards, sliding with the makeshift bed. He shifted with the momentum, putting his arm around her and arranging so his back was to the wall and he held her at his side. He felt stronger than any wave—but she didn’t.

A blast of anger hit him. The fates—he knew them well, they were his bedfellows—they were conspiring again. They thrust another wave against the ship and he held her tight, seeing the press of her lips.

He was not some rutting beast—and she would still be here tomorrow—assuming they didn’t die in the storm.

Warrington stood, extinguished the wick and looked to the window. He had no time to get a hammer and nail a covering over the opening so the flashes of lightning wouldn’t illuminate and accentuate the discordance outside.

He’d been graced with this woman whose ancestors could have been from Thessaly, where mythology began, and he would not be allowed to touch her. Lightning wove gold threads into her hair, but illuminated the pallor of her skin and reminded him she didn’t feel well.

At least on deck he would be forced into thinking of staying alive. He reached to the door, but her voice stopped him.

‘Please,’ she said, and touched the bed beside her. ‘The ship shakes so. I don’t want to be alone. I feel better with you near. Here.’

Lightning kept flashing through the glass—giving her a mythical glow, freezing the unmoving image of her into his mind, painting her like a statue, a work of art.

The intensity of her gaze caused him to stare—her eyes clear as a harvest moon, surrounded by lashes dipped in the flashing light. He dropped to his knees, landing beside her, entranced by the flickers of lightning on her skin. He swept his finger over her bottom lip. Now he knew what magic felt like. His skin tingled with anticipation.

More thunder crashed. He heard a crack of lightning. With the sounds, and the sight of her, sensual energy surged in him, heating him until an internal maelstrom engulfed him. The memories he made tonight would some day take on larger-than-life images in his mind. Melina, different from all he’d seen before, and all he’d see again, would remain in his thoughts—like a precious gem hidden away in a safe. A secret only for himself to have.

A wave tilted the ship and she wrenched her body around, clasping the front of his shirt. She buried her head against him and he held her.

‘Have you ever been in seas this rough?’ she asked.