Journey of the Wind

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by Charlotte Boyett-Compo


  chest. Shakily, he plowed a hand through his hair as he strove to slow his panting and

  the hard pumping of his heart. To his mortal shame, he realized his dream had brought

  a nocturnal emission that now clung wetly to his groin, holding the sheet against his

  nakedness. He groaned, tugging at his hair until the fiery pain became too much. He let

  go and flung the covers back, swinging his legs from the bunk, wincing at the sticky feel

  of his juices plastered to his body.

  As he cleaned himself, he rethought the dream and no matter how it presented

  itself to him, he reasoned his subconscious knew what he had refused to admit in his

  wakeful moments—Rylee had another man and had been playing him for a fool. He

  had been sharing her and that thought galled him.

  Angry with her, annoyed at himself for refusing to see the truth of the matter, he

  knew sleep would be elusive the rest of the night. Dragging on his black denim jeans, he

  snagged the duffel bag’s handle and pulled it toward him, opening it to rummage

  inside for a thick wool sweater. Once dressed—minus his boots—he left the cabin and

  climbed the ladder to the main deck.

  The glow of a cigar pulsing in the night drew Sandair’s eye to a man standing at the

  railing, his elbows braced on the top. He sauntered over, nodding at the man, and took

  up an identical pose there at the side of the ship.

  “Nice night,” the man said, blowing out a stream of smoke.

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  Journey of the Wind

  “Still fairly cool,” Sandair protested.

  “I’m from Virago,” the man told him with a chuckle. “This is warm for me.” He

  stuck the cigar between his teeth then extended a hand. “Kyle Striker.”

  Alsandair took the proffered hand. “Alsandair Farrell,” he said as they shook.

  “You’re Anlusian?”

  Nodding, Alsandair turned so his back was to the rail, his hands behind him

  holding the sleek teakwood. “I’ve never been to Vind Gynr. Are the winter storms there

  as bad as they say?”

  “Worse,” Kyle replied. “It’s not unusual to get eight inches in half an hour.”

  “Every woman’s dream, I’m told,” Alsandair said with a laugh, and his companion

  joined him.

  The two were silent for a moment, each absorbing the peacefulness of the night.

  “Is this a business trip or is it for pleasure?” Kyle inquired, puffing away on his

  cigar.

  “Strictly pleasure. I’m on leave.”

  “Ah,” Kyle said. “A military man, eh?”

  “Practically from the cradle,” Alsandair replied. “My father and his father and his

  father before him were warriors.” He scratched his cheek. “Maybe even back as far as

  the Burning War the men in my family have served their country.”

  “The family business, so to speak,” Kyle remarked.

  “I suppose you could say that.” He turned sideways, leaning his elbow on the rail

  as he looked at the man beside him. “What about you? Business or pleasure?”

  “A bit of both,” Kyle answered, and Alsandair studied him in the faint glow from a

  lantern used as one of the ship’s running lights that was hanging on a spar.

  Kyle Striker was as tall as Alsandair—a little beyond six feet—with broad shoulders

  and a slim build. His hair was the color of ripe wheat and he wore it long to his

  shoulders and pulled back in a queue. His eyes appeared pale-colored but it was

  impossible in the dim light to tell their true shade. He had a strong jaw, a deep cleft in

  his chin and high cheekbones. His voice was deeper than Alsandair’s and the Vind

  Gynrese accent was strong. He looked to be fit.

  “Are you traveling alone?”

  Kyle shook his head. “I have my lady with me. She has a cabin of her own.”

  “You’re not married then?”

  “Not yet, but I’m working on it,” Kyle admitted. He flicked the remainder of his

  cigar out into the water, the fiery arc of its tip disappearing into the darkness. “What

  about you?”

  “Single with no prospects of marriage on the horizon,” Alsandair said quietly. “I

  am as free as the proverbial bird.”

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  “Would you prefer it otherwise?” Kyle asked, no doubt detecting the sadness in his

  companion’s voice.

  “To be honest,” Alsandair replied, “I don’t know at this point. A part of me longs

  for hearth and home, and the other part looks forward to the adventures provided to

  me by the soldiering.” He looked down at the deck. “It seems I can’t have both.”

  “I know what you mean,” Kyle said with a long, heartfelt sigh. He yawned. “Well,

  I’m for bed.” He put out his hand. “See you in the morning?”

  “Aye,” Alsandair said, and shook the other man’s firm hand.

  Left by himself, Alsandair gripped the railing before him and stared out into the

  night-darkened waves. Sleep still eluded him and the thought of having another

  unsettling dream kept him where he was.

  He was still at the rail when the first light of dawn spread chill fingers into the

  eastern sky.

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  Journey of the Wind

  Chapter Three

  Captain Andelton and his first mate Sedric Bonny were already seated in the

  common room when Alsandair came to the table fresh from a light bath and a change of

  clothing. He nodded to the two men, shook Bonny’s hand and then nodded to Ruck, the

  cabin boy, that he wanted a steaming cup of coffee.

  “Didn’t sleep too well your first night out?” Andelton probed.

  “I had a lot on my mind,” Alsandair answered.

  “Woman troubles,” Bonny said with a chuckle. “I can always tell.”

  “Good morning.”

  Alsandair looked up from the plate of bacon, eggs and fried potatoes Ruck had set

  in front of him. He greeted the man he’d met the evening before at the rail.

  “Where’s your lady this morn?” the captain inquired.

  “She’s up but you know how women are,” Kyle said. “It takes them longer to get

  dressed than it does us.”

  The men snickered at the remark and Kyle shook his head at the offer of food. “I’ve

  yet to get my sea legs but that coffee smells wonderful.”

  “It is,” Alsandair agreed.

  “Go ahead and eat, gentlemen,” Kyle said. “There’s no telling when she’ll grace us

  with her beautiful presence. It may be half an hour yet, if I know her.”

  Digging into the fare, the men discussed the good weather they were experiencing

  and the fair wind that was pushing them gently toward the Sinisters.

  “I’ve never seen them,” Alsandair said. “Are they as dangerous as I’ve heard?”

  “They’re a trick to navigate through,” Bonny admitted. “But a good sailor won’t

  have any problems with the Sinisters unless he lets his mind wander.”

  “I’ve been through there many times before,” Kyle admitted. “The going through is

  a lot less nerve-racking than the coming back out.”

  “That’s because coming back out you’re sailing against the wind. We sometimes

  run into fierce rain storms near the Sinisters,” Andelton observed. “Bad lightning and

  the like.”

  Kyle paused as he was about to take a sip of his coffee. “My lady hates storms,” he

  said. “Fear
s them something awful.”

  “We should luck out this trip and not encounter any, but should that happen, just

  keep her in her cabin and soothe her,” the captain advised.

  “She’ll be practically hiding under me if the past is any indication,” Kyle joked.

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  Alsandair looked up at Kyle. “I knew a woman like that,” he said, and unease

  shifted down his spine.

  “Don’t let the fog horn scare her,” Andelton told Kyle. “That’s where the notion of

  there being a sea beastie comes from. That horn—if’n you don’t know it’s there—can be

  a frightening sound.”

  “Like the bellow of some giant, dangerous beast,” Kyle said. “I warned Rylee about

  it already. She’s not one for surprises.”

  Alsandair choked on the eggs he’d been about to swallow. Tears filled his eyes from

  the pain of the lodged food and he pushed back from the table as Bonny shot up to

  pound him on the back.

  “Here, lad,” Bonny said, slapping the palm of his hand between Alsandair’s

  shoulders. “None of that now.”

  The hard thumping on his back managed to dislodge the egg from his gullet and

  Alsandair spat it out into his napkin, coughing and dragging in harsh breaths until Kyle

  leaned over with a tumbler of water.

  “Drink this,” Kyle said. “It’ll help.”

  “Let him choke,” came a heated command. “It will save me from having to strangle

  him later!”

  All the men save Alsandair looked up to see the only female passenger onboard

  standing in the doorway with her hands on a pair of very shapely hips. Lovely green

  eyes were flashing fire and a pert little mouth was pressed into a taut, prim line as she

  glowered at Alsandair. One foot was tapping out a dangerous rhythm on the floor.

  Coming to his feet along with the other men, Alsandair wiped his mouth on the

  napkin and finally turned his head to look at the woman he had thought he was

  escaping. Their eyes met and he let out a long, tired breath. He should have known fate

  wouldn’t let him get away that easily.

  “What the hell are you doing here, Sandair?” Rylee McCourtland snarled. “I

  thought I told you I never wanted to see you again. How dare you follow me!”

  Kyle looked from Rylee to Alsandair. He set the tumbler of water down on the

  table. “This is him?”

  “I wasn’t following you,” Alsandair managed to say, his voice husky from the

  choking. He reached for the tumbler of water.

  “Liar,” she snapped.

  Kyle came around the table and held a chair out for her. “Let’s discuss this later,

  shall we?” he said, casting her a stern look.

  “He followed me!” Rylee accused.

  “No, I did not,” Alsandair said, and sat back down, a harsh frown on his face. “If I’d

  known you were onboard, I’ve have given this ship a wide berth, believe me.” He

  couldn’t look at her anymore for his heart was starting to ache all over again. “I’ve no

  wish to be savaged again.”

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  “You—”

  “Sit down, Rylee,” Kyle said sternly, cutting her off.

  Alsandair looked up at the other man and was surprised to see Rylee doing as she

  was told. She threw him a hateful look but took her seat, her lips pursed tightly

  together.

  “Ruck, would you bring the lady her breakfast?” Kyle asked.

  “Aye, sir!” Ruck was quick to reply.

  There was an awkward silence into which the diners were cast. The captain and his

  first mate exchanged an uncomfortable look but set about finishing their meal.

  Rylee sat there glaring at Alsandair as her ex-lover ate, ignoring her own meal.

  “It’s a long time to the noon meal, Rylee,” Kyle said reasonably. “Eat.”

  Grumbling beneath her breath, Rylee unfolded her napkin, laid it in her lap and set

  about doing as her traveling companion dictated.

  Amazed his ex-lover was obeying Striker’s orders, Alsandair glanced at Kyle.

  Whatever hold the man had over Rylee was firm and he couldn’t help but admire Kyle

  for it. He himself had spent years trying to get the hellion to do as he asked only to have

  her balk at every turn. Begrudgingly admitting the other man could handle Rylee far

  better than he ever could, he heaved a long, heartfelt sigh.

  “No one is making you stay at this table, Farrell,” Rylee told him. “Please feel free

  to leave if you find the company so unbearable.”

  “That’s enough, Rylee,” Kyle said, and this time his voice was filled with a warning.

  “Commander Farrell is attempting to make the best of this situation. I suggest you do

  the same.”

  Alsandair raised his eyes to look at Rylee and watched as embarrassment crept into

  her cheeks at the reprimand. Her eyes became overly bright and he recognized a bout of

  crying coming on. Rather than exacerbate the situation, he said nothing but rather

  pushed back from the table and got up.

  “Please finish your meal, Farrell,” Kyle said. “We’ve a long journey ahead of us and

  there is no reason to spend it being uncomfortable.”

  Further admiration for the man nudged Alsandair and he looked to Kyle. “I thank

  you for your concern, Striker, but I have finished.” He bowed to the captain, nodded at

  the first mate and Kyle, muttered a soft “milady” to Rylee and then left the common

  room.

  Once out on the deck, Alsandair cursed a blue streak beneath his breath. He was

  humiliated at the treatment Rylee had handed him and further annoyed that her new

  lover had come to his defense. He had no animosity toward Striker—though he realized

  he should have—and knew it was indeed going to be a long journey.

  “Well, that was a mite prickly,” the captain said as he joined Alsandair at the rail.

  “I apologize, Captain,” Alsandair said, turning to see the portly man picking his

  teeth with a golden toothpick.

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  “No need and call me Drake,” his companion said. “I recognize a vengeful lady

  when one sits to my table.” He chuckled. “What did you do to her, leave her at the

  altar?”

  “It was the other way around,” Alsandair said. “She left me.” Not wanting to

  discuss the matter, he asked if the captain was ready to start going over the books.

  “Now’s as good a time as any,” Andelton replied.

  They passed Bonny on his way up to the bridge as they went below to the captain’s

  cabin. The first mate asked if they wanted a pot of coffee sent to them.

  “That would be good, Sedric,” the captain replied. “Is there still frost a’sittin’ on my

  table in the common room?”

  Bonny grinned. “The gentleman looked as if he’d be taking the lady to task once

  Ruck and me cleared the room, so I imagine the air is either hot as Hades or cold as the

  Abyss by now.”

  * * * * *

  Kyle leaned back in his chair after pouring his third cup of coffee and observed the

  woman across from him. Contrary to what Bonny had suggested would happen, Kyle

  had said nothing to his companion. He sat with his elbows on the arms of his chair and

  regarded Rylee calmly.

  “I behaved badly,” she said, squirming un
der his constant gaze.

  “Aye, that you did,” he agreed.

  Rylee pushed her plate away. “It’s just that I was stunned to see him here, Kyle.”

  “As stunned as he was to see you,” he said. When she started to protest, he held up

  a hand. “I saw his face. He was not expecting you to appear so get the notion he

  followed you out of your mind.”

  Snapping her mouth shut, she folded her arms across her chest in a defensive

  posture and turned her face from him.

  “Pout all you like but he did not purposefully track you down, sweeting. I’ll

  venture to say he was running away from you, just as you were running from him.”

  Rylee flinched. “You don’t think he got the note?”

  “Nay, I don’t believe he did. It is fate that he is here.”

  Once more tears filled Rylee’s eyes, but this time it wasn’t from embarrassment but

  from the ache that had settled in her heart.

  Kyle finished his coffee and set the cup on the table. “When I met him last eve, I

  liked him right off. My instincts tell me Alsandair Farrell is a good man and I imagine

  we could become very good friends. That rarely happens, but when it does, I find my

  first instincts are always proven to be the correct ones.”

  “I never said he wasn’t a good man,” she protested, willing to give her ex-lover his

  due.

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  Journey of the Wind

  “I wish you’d told me his name when we began our association so when I met him

  last eve I could have saved us all the embarrassment we suffered this morn,” he said.

  “I’m sure he would have preferred to find another ship upon which to sail rather than

  have you insult him as you did.”

  Rylee flinched. “It won’t happen again,” she mumbled.

  “I pray not. If you want to settle this, Rylee, you’ll have several days in which to do

  so,” he suggested.

  She looked around at him. “I’ve no desire to speak to that man just yet.”

  He nodded. “Then keep to your cabin and read. I’ll stop in from time to time and

  we can play cards or chess. I would prefer not having to deal with your spitefulness

  again.”

  Her eyes widened. “Spitefulness?” she repeated.

  “You wanted to hurt him, embarrass him, and you did,” Kyle stated. “I won’t have

  that happen again. I don’t like discord and I particularly do not like confrontations. If

 

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