Safe in the Earl's Arms

by Liz Tyner

  ‘He saved me. That he did.’ Stubby’s words ran together and he looked at Ben, adoration bursting from the young eyes. ‘The capt’n just caught me and snatched me back from that wave like it was nothing. Capt’n didn’t say a word. Just scared that water into letting me go.’ His voice dropped, memories floating behind his eyes. ‘Was a big fight.’

  Stubby rose to his feet. The words were too important for him to speak while sitting. ‘A big ol’ wave.’ He raised his hand high over his head, and tiptoed. ‘A wave. Jumped ’cross the boat and reached for me, just reached out and— Then I was—’ His words became faster. ‘I grabbed with my toes to the deck because my hands was full of water. Capt’n pulled my shirt, but couldn’t hold me. He seized me and a spar and fought that wave—bigger’n two ships and a house. The monster came back.’ He made clawing motions. ‘Capt’n, he squeezed on to me.’ Stubby made a choking face, with his tongue out. He collapsed back into the chair. ‘The wave—it were really angry ’cause it couldn’t pull us overboard or drown us while we was standin’ and just slapped Capt’n hard into the spar.’ Stubby’s adoration for Ben shone from his eyes. ‘Capt’n is stronger ’n sea devils.’

  ‘You able to get out of your clothes by yourself?’ Warrington asked Ben.

  Ben nodded at the same time Stubby answered for him. ‘Capt’n had to have Gidley pull his shirt and Gidley even had to put dry trousers on him. I’m supposed to be watching him now—Gid says—see if Capt’n goes belly up before the storm finishes, but I don’t think he’s going belly up. Capt’n still holdin’ to all his fingers—even if some of them’s more crooked than they’re supposed to be. He’s not missing any halves like Gidley or quartermaster. Gidley said he bit his own fingers off because they was on his nervous side—and he says I get on his nervous side, but I don’t think he’s going to bite my fingers off because he says I’m wormy and he don’t like worms.’

  ‘Stubby—put your hand over your mouth and hold your lips shut.’ Ben’s voice rasped in the air. He closed his eyes.

  ‘You do look like you’ve been mopped around the deck.’ Warrington moved closer, studying his brother.

  ‘I’ve moved across the ship on my backside before and I dare say I’ll do it again. Best way to check for splinters I know.’

  ‘You find any?’

  Ben’s lips twitched, but he took a moment to find the strength for words and open his eyes. ‘Gidley gave me a scant spoon of laudanum. He said he’s saving the rest in case someone gets hurt.’

  Stubby looked at Warrington and the child’s voice became a loud whisper. ‘Gidley told me about the demons of the deep afore. I know it was them. Capt’n said no. Said a mermaid sent the wave because she wanted to meet him ’cause he’s so manly.’ He cocked his head. ‘You think a mermaid can make waves do that—or you think it was a spirit tryin’ to swallow me whole?’

  ‘Captain Ben Forrester,’ Warrington said. ‘You’re filling his head with nonsense.’ Then he turned to Stubby. ‘It was just a wave and no spirit or mermaid.’

  Ben’s eyes were shut. ‘It’s not nonsense,’ he muttered. ‘It may not be truth, but it’s not nonsense. It’s a yarn and we seamen spend much time on yarns.’

  ‘Stubby…’ Warrington turned to him. ‘Don’t believe anything anyone on this ship says but me, unless it is something you see with your own eyes.’ He stared at Stubby. ‘And even if you see it yourself, on this ship, you will check with me to see it is true.’

  ‘I saw the wave reach for me.’ Stubby’s chin quivered and the purpling on his face seemed darker. Warrington’s throat closed. Stubby was scarcely bigger than Jacob. Warrington put his hand on Stubby’s shoulder, resisting the urge to pull him into his grasp as he would have his son.

  ‘It was a big hand.’ Stubby pushed free and showed the actions with his own arm and fingers. ‘Reaching out to pull me to the bottom of the sea.’

  Warrington watched the boy. ‘You’ll have to learn not to believe sailors’ tales.’

  ‘Why not?’ Ben’s eyes were shut. ‘Mermaids are truly handsome. Sometimes they leave seaweed behind, though, and they don’t always smell pleasant.’

  Warrington met Stubby’s eyes and then shut his own while frowning and shaking his head.

  But Stubby spoke to Ben. ‘Do they make mermaids in my size?’ he asked. ‘I hope to see one ’fore long.’

  *

  Melina slept sitting, with her back against the wall, and one hand clasped over her fisted other one. She woke when the pressure of a foot sinking into the pallet jostled her.

  She didn’t move, even when he slid beside her, scenting the air with a salty-tinged masculinity. He tugged at the covers and pulled them around himself.

  ‘Pretend to be asleep,’ he muttered. ‘Just don’t step on me when you get up. I’ve been awake two nights straight, part of a third—and I must rest. Drowning is starting to sound pleasant.’

  She could tell he rolled so his back was to her. She couldn’t move. Her stomach was hanging on to her insides and as long as she kept her back straight she could believe she had stayed alive. The waves had lessened in their violence. Even the thunder had moved on.

  ‘Once we get to London, I’ll see you have passage back to Melos.’ His voice broke the silence.

  ‘I can take care of myself.’ She spoke before she intended, jerking her face in his direction. She bit the inside of her lip, reminding herself to be motionless.

  She couldn’t see his eyes, but she watched him turn in her direction. He examined her, his face a mask.

  His words sounded unwilling. ‘Your stone won’t be enough in England to protect you.’

  She spoke again, controlling the intensity of her words. She’d risked everything on this ship and this stranger. But once she reached London, she could find her father there. He could help her raise funds and search for more artefacts. She was certain she’d seen more carvings at the place she’d found the woman. But the woman was the prize. ‘We’re too far at sea. You can’t turn the ship around and return me.’

  He touched the bare skin of her arm, soothing her. ‘Once we get to England,’ he repeated, ‘I’ll stay a few days in London. I have to meet people to discuss the details of the voyage. And if you wish to return home, I’ll make sure my brother finds a way to get you back to the island.’

  She gave a quick toss of her head. ‘I will find my way. The arm will help me.’

  ‘This Stephanos. Surely you can find someone you prefer better than him?’

  She shrugged.

  ‘The men you see at the docks will have one thing on their mind when they approach you—and they won’t pay generously. They’ll haggle over a pence and be angry with you for any coin they give you. And then they’ll take your body and they won’t be kind. They’ll feel they’ve paid you so they don’t have to be gentle and they’ll want every ounce of your skin for their coin.’ He paused. ‘You can’t find a more troublesome lot of humanity. I’m sure they’re even worse than this Stephanos you think so highly of.’

  ‘It’s not your concern. I won’t sell myself because I have the arm. The museum will want the rest of her.’ She turned her face from him and bundled herself up, raising her knees and resting her arms around them. She dipped her chin. ‘Go to sleep.’

  He sat up and clasped her shoulder. She was amazed at the warmth a single touch could send and pleased deep within herself that he wanted to protect her from selling her body, but angry he would send her back to the island. She could not go back without funds.

  His words were soft—sleepy. ‘If I’d known you were an innocent, I’d never have let you set foot on the Ascalon.’

  ‘If I’d know you were such a tender heart, I’d have thrown myself into your brother’s arms.’ She considered the words she’d just spoken, and realised the untruth of them. When she looked at Warrington, she could see behind his eyes. The anger she saw wasn’t directed at her, but at himself. And sometimes she saw pain, moving quicker than the flashes of light in the night
, showing through the struggle she saw within him.

  ‘You’ve no sense at all if you prefer my brother.’ He rested back into the covers.

  ‘I’ll find my own way in England.’

  He tugged her down beside him and she kept her body stiff. Being held by him teased her of a life she’d never have, unless she made enough from the sale of artefacts to have a dowry not just for her sisters, but also one for herself. A husband of any value could cost a considerable amount.

  The warmth of his breath touched her when he spoke, his words little more than a haze of sleepy murmuring. ‘I won’t waste a worry on you, then. Just be still and quiet for a moment so I can drift off.’

  She didn’t move, knowing he should fall asleep soon. But even if he slept, she couldn’t move from him. His arm around her trapped her with the strength of iron.

  ‘I can’t let you be like her.’ His voice confirmed tiredness when she heard his slurred words. ‘Cassandra. My lovely wife. Not a man on Ascalon who wouldn’t have given all they owned for her. Even our captain. And I was the lucky one.’

  ‘She’s gone.’

  ‘Not to me.’ His words barely rose above his breathing. ‘The bitch still burns in my heart.’

  Chapter Eight

  Melina opened the door and stepped into the morning air, pleased to have her shawl keeping out the chill. The Ascalon briskly skimmed the water, bow up, proud.

  The men showed the effects of the night. They worked, trance-like, eyes focused on the task in front of them, whether it be the ropes in their hands, the buckets or the stones they used to scrub the slippery mould from the deck. She looked to the stern and saw Gidley at the wheel. His eyes had the red-rimmed look of too much wind and too little sleep.

  ‘We near lost ’em both.’ Gidley’s head trembled in a negative shake and he turned his face to the sea.

  ‘Who?’ Melina asked, stopping a few inches from his side.

  ‘Capt’n and Stubby.’ He turned back, searching her face. ‘Warrin’ton didn’t tell yer? Guess a man’s thinking of other things when he’s close to a woman.’ His voice faded. ‘Stubby wouldn’t ever grow old enough to make a single whisker if not for Capt’n.’

  Melina waited, feeling a coldness splash into her. ‘Both are well?’

  Gidley shrugged. ‘Stub’s shook or he’d a been dancing ’round my feet this mornin’. Capt’n Ben—’ He paused. ‘Take more’n a bump to do him in. Prob’ly be walkin’ again before we get to shore. One leg’s lamed up and he’s prob’ly listenin’ to a few ribs shouting at him. Though none stick out. Always a good thing when the bones stay skinned over.’ Gidley squinted at Melina. ‘Yer ever took care of a sick body?’

  ‘My mother.’ She hated to say the words. Her mother had died slowly, death taking her by squeezing health away a heartbeat at a time and replacing everything inside her with pain.

  ‘Well…’ He took his time saying the word. ‘Capt’n is sayin’ for you to care for him. I’ve some laudanum in him and when he wakes he’ll not be fine, but I’m needin’ to keep my eye on the sails.’ Gidley tilted his head, indicating the cabin closest to the helm. ‘Go see to him.’

  She gripped her skirt, raising it just enough so she could walk quickly, and moved to the captain’s quarters. Melina rapped on the door and when no one answered, she peered in. He was asleep.

  Melina took stock of her surroundings. The cabin, spacious by comparison to Warrington’s, gleamed with polished wood and accentuated the paleness of the captain’s face.

  He slept because of the tonic and she knew not to give him any more until he complained of pain. She touched his forehead and didn’t feel burning. His eyelashes fluttered. Compassion stirred in her. He’d survived the night, but death from an injury could wait days. And she owed him. Without the captain agreeing to let her sail, Stephanos would still be a threat.

  She moved back the covers to look at the bruising on his chest, then sat in the only chair and settled herself for whatever care he’d need.

  *

  Hours later, when the door opened, she jumped awake and Warrington strode in—his eyes appraising everything. The light emboldened his ragged features. Whiskers darkened his chin and blended with the shadows under his eyes. His hair—neatly combed—contrasted with the rest of him.

  ‘How is he?’ Warrington moved to the bedside, staring at his brother.

  ‘He rests eirinikos, well enough, but I believe it is because of the draught he was given. He did wake long enough for a thimbleful of water. But he has the right speech and doesn’t appear worse than he was earlier. His side is bruised. Leg is straight, scraped some, and his knee is swollen nearly as big as his head.’

  Warrington studied her for a moment longer than necessary, then he turned to his brother. He stepped to the edge of the berth and put a hand lightly on the captain’s shoulder.

  Ben’s eyes flickered, but remained closed. ‘The boy still alive?’

  Warrington’s head jerked up in answer. ‘Stubby is doing better than you. You look like a man who danced with the wrong fellow’s wife.’ Warrington’s voice remained gruff.

  Ben opened one eye. ‘You, on the other hand, look like hell.’

  Warrington’s smile changed his face, bringing a life to his eyes she’d never believed possible.

  ‘You infant,’ Warrington continued, his words light. ‘You’ll try anything to convince me to sail the next voyage with you—but it won’t work.’

  Ben kept his eyes closed and talked, barely moving his lips. ‘I guess expecting a soft old earl to be able to sail is daft.’

  ‘I’d better get to the helm.’ Warrington took his hand from Ben’s shoulder, still smiling. ‘Since Captain Lackbeard looks to lie about all day.’

  ‘Remember,’ Ben said, ‘keep the masts to the sky. The hull side to the water.’

  ‘I’ll do what I can.’

  ‘So will I.’ Ben’s brows rose. ‘I will rest here and look at Melina all day to ease my suffering.’ His head didn’t turn, but he glanced sideways. ‘Would you give me a drop of brandy, sweetness?’

  She rose, which caused her to brush Warrington. He gave a haughty smile to his brother. Then Warrington reached around Melina. His hand was firm at her side and the quick motion surprised her. She stumbled against him.

  His lips closed over hers before she expected it. Her heart pounded warm blasts throughout her body. The taste of him was not something she could name, but the flavour of strength and warm male.

  He pulled back and kept his hand at her waist while he spoke to his brother. His voice had challenge in it. ‘Take care, little brother. Don’t test me on this. Or you will get truly hurt.’

  *

  For days, Melina knew she had less sleep than the seamen while she cared for the captain. She’d not known a person could complain so. He had her searching his cabin for a silver toothpick once, as if his very life depended on it, and then he remembered he’d lost the shining bit on a different voyage.

  The captain would send her in search of a sailor he wanted to speak to and she’d find the man at the very spot Captain Ben mentioned, doing exactly what he had expected. Even Warrington did as commanded.

  Gidley would sometimes stop to check on Captain Ben, and invariably, the captain would send her on a task. He’d need a biscuit, or for her to take a question to a crew member—she suspected the duties unnecessary ones so he could talk privately with the first mate.

  The captain was keeping Warrington from the cabin when she was in it, or else Warrington had no wish to be inside if she was there. She was too tired to sort her thoughts.

  They only passed each other briefly, an impossible occurrence—unless planned. From the humour in Ben’s face, and the glare in Warrington’s, she didn’t think it the earl’s suggestion.

  She’d seen Warrington on the ropes once or twice, with his lean legs scurrying up the rigging. She’d been wrong about him—he could climb the ratlines as well as the others. Perhaps better as he’d kept himself ba
lanced using his legs while he worked.

  Almost as soon as Melina reached her cabin and fell upon the pallet, she heard a tap on her door and forced herself upright. A voice through the wood told her the captain requested her.

  She stood, pushing at the knot of her hair, pulling at her skirt to straighten it, and left the room. The cabin boy waited. If she’d dallied longer, he would have knocked more insistently. ‘I think I have stolen your job,’ she told him when she walked through the doorway.

  His bruised face burst into a smile. ‘I be fine with it. Won’t be long till I be an able-bodied seaman. Gid says I have some growin’ left, but I’ll get that done quick enough and be taller ’n him.’

  She found a shirtless Ben sitting in his bed, a map sprawled around him. He looked up at her when she entered.

  He hadn’t worn a shirt since he’d been injured and his side had darkened more, leaving a yellowish cast around the bruising. She heard the ship’s bell. Warrington would be leaving his post. The captain grinned. He rolled up the papers, his hands moving slowly and with excessive care. Finally he tipped the cylinder in her direction. She put it in the cabinet. ‘I’ll try sitting in the chair for a while. Lend a hand,’ he said. He put his palm to the bruise.

  ‘It would be better if Warrington or the men helped you. Your weight is too heavy for me,’ she answered.

  ‘They move me about like a potato sack.’ He stretched out his naked arm, rubbing the muscle. ‘I’m sure you’ll do just fine.’

  She scooted the chair several inches closer, leaving enough room for him to stand beside the bed before sitting.

  She let the captain’s weight shift on to her, and helped him to the chair. Just as he was pulling his arm from around her neck, Warrington walked in. She supposed an earl never knocked when entering his brother’s quarters—at least one didn’t.

  The captain slid his arm back to Melina’s shoulders and took a bit more time righting himself.