Safe in the Earl's Arms

by Liz Tyner

Warrington’s hair gleamed with the mist of seawater still on it. His coat hung open, but his shirt looked crisp underneath.

  The three of them were nestled in the cabin so tight they could reach out an arm and touch the others.

  ‘I believe I’ve wrenched my shoulder,’ Warrington said. ‘I need Melina’s care.’

  The captain kept his injured leg motionless in front of him. His mouth opened, but he didn’t speak. He shook his head at Warrington in an arrogant wobble. She moved to leave and Warrington turned to follow her.

  ‘Stay a moment, War, I need to talk to you,’ Ben said.

  ‘I’ve better things to do than listen to a man who lies about drinking brandy all day.’ His eyes were chips of coal. ‘Much better things.’ He looked at Melina.

  ‘I know. But it won’t kill you to spare a few minutes with your brother.’

  ‘Might not be so good for you, however.’

  Warrington opened the door, standing aside. Melina moved to step out, but when she passed Warrington, his hand caught her waist and he stopped her movement.

  When she looked into his eyes, nothing light looked back at her. But he brushed at a lock of her hair, leaving a trail of warmth she could feel to her toes. ‘If my brother is tiring you too much, Melina, you don’t have to assist him. Stubby can.’

  She saw the intensity in his eyes, and more behind it, and gave the barest of nods. ‘I’m well with it.’

  He snorted in response, but handed her gently out through the door. ‘Rest, sweet.’ His voice caressed. ‘I don’t want you overtired.’

  As the door closed, she heard the captain’s muttered comment to his brother. ‘Arse Hat.’ She didn’t understand Warrington’s reply exactly. She didn’t think she’d ever heard the word before.

  *

  Inside the captain’s quarters Warrington glared impatiently at his brother. ‘I’m not letting you keep her from me any longer. I only have scant time left with her.’

  ‘I would never get between a man and his sweetheart.’ Ben’s eyes half closed. ‘I am merely a weak younger brother, not as strong as you, and I need help getting back on my feet.’

  ‘Having a bed that smells of a woman’s warmth, and no woman in it, is not doing me any good.’

  ‘You’ll survive.’ Ben stretched, gingerly, keeping his movements slow. ‘But I know where I saw her. I remembered.’ Then he let the room fall into silence.

  Warrington remained on his feet. ‘Tell me or not, I’m leaving.’ He wasn’t letting Ben trap him into a long discussion. He had better ways to spend his time. One way in particular.

  ‘Somerset House. A painting.’ Ben touched his chest. ‘The spot. I remember the spot on the girl. The painting captured the mark. Odd to leave a blemish and I noticed it more than her face. At the time I decided the artist added it to make his painting different.’

  Warrington waved away the words. ‘Any artist would want to capture her.’

  ‘War.’ Ben shook his head. ‘She has ties to England. Ties we don’t know about. She speaks too well. And she has some piece of marble you say she believes she has to get to London.’ He waved a hand. ‘Probably has a man she’s going to. Using the stone as an excuse.’

  ‘If she has a man in England, all the better.’ Warrington spoke with authority. He only needed Melina long enough to get the past behind him. To get over his foolishness of letting his lust control his mind. No, that wasn’t what he needed to stop. He needed to stop letting his foolish heart control his actions. Lust was much safer than love.

  When he returned to Whitegate, he’d have no time for a woman while he took back his duties. He wanted to teach Jacob about the country estate. And Warrington would be travelling back and forth to London after taking his seat in Parliament.

  Someone knocked. A double thump, pause and double thump on the door let Warrington know Stubby stood outside. He opened the door without taking his eyes off Ben while Stubby bounded in.

  ‘Melina will be on her own soon after we dock. She thinks the cracked rock is a treasure of some sort and will earn funds,’ Warrington said. ‘She’s wrapped the thing in cloth and it stays under the berth. She put my second pair of trousers around it and has the stone secured tight. Has a bit of rope tying the parcel snug to the edge.’

  Ben shook his head. ‘You’ve seen it. Does it look like it could sell?’

  Warrington didn’t take his hand from the door. ‘No. It’s cracked badly. I’ve no idea why she decided it valuable.’ He held his arm out, moving his fingers into a grasping position. ‘It’s an arm shaped like this. One of the fingers is broken off, as well. Just an arm. Should be tossed in a dust bin. Like your collections you’ve stored around the town house.’

  ‘Then she must have a man in London who wants the stone. A sweetheart she hopes to see again.’ He grinned at Stubby. ‘But she does keep good company. Believed me when I had her searching for a toothpick.’

  The boy, only a hint of bruising left on his face, glared at Ben.

  Ben winked at Stubby. ‘Every cabin boy has to search for a silver toothpick. Proves their mettle by how long and deep they dig before giving up.’

  Warrington looked at Stub’s mutinous jaw. ‘He did save your skin and I did tell you not to come on deck.’

  The little face didn’t soften. ‘Well, my looks is ruined for ever. Now I don’t know how I’ll get me a woman when we get to London.’

  ‘Stubby.’ The shocked word shot from both Warrington and Ben at the same time.

  ‘The men say they can’t wait to get home and get a woman,’ Stubby said. ‘They be wantin’ her apple dumplin’ or a tart. I like confectioneries and if I have to smile pretty at a lady to get me some sweets…’ he showed a toothy smile and touched his stomach ‘…then I be plannin’ to have a belly full of smiles.’

  War looked at Ben. ‘You need to have a talk with him. If you can figure it out yourself.’

  ‘I’ll tell Gid to explain—’ He stopped. ‘No. Cook would be better.’ Ben sat, rubbing his knee, and grimaced in pain. ‘Not so sure our lovely Melina doesn’t have some bad luck with her. A lifetime of sailing and I’ve never been hurt this bad.’ He probed against the trouser leg. ‘I suppose I should have expected it. We do have a woman on board. Never know whether they’ll be bad or good fortune until afterwards.’

  ‘You’ve spent too long bobbing about. You’re starting to sound like Gidley.’ Warrington kept his fingers on the open door, ready to go to his cabin. Stubby stood listening, nodding as if he’d sailed a score of years and seen everything to see.

  Ben’s voice lowered, and he fell back on the bed. ‘I shouldn’t have sent you in my place to meet Melina. I would have just…’ he raised a brow at Warrington ‘…put a smile on her face and we would have sailed smoothly home.’

  ‘You may be right. You see me unhurt. I put a smile on her face.’

  Ben interlaced his fingers on his chest and turned his head towards Stubby. ‘Go get Gid. Tell him I need him. The earl’s imaginations are giving me pains.’

  When the door closed behind the lad, Ben’s eyes darted to Warrington’s face. ‘I don’t trust her. You won’t keep her near once you get to land?’

  Warrington didn’t immediately speak and he frowned. ‘When it is your concern, I’ll tell you. But, no. She’ll be on her way soon after we dock. I’ll remain in London a few extra days because I have to meet with the Foreign Office. Then I’ll see Jacob and deal with…Whitegate. I can’t leave it all in Dane’s hands for ever. He’ll be wanting to get back to his confectioneries.’

  Ben turned his head to the wall, but his words carried directly to Warrington. ‘Don’t make the same mistake twice.’

  War stepped out of the door. The same mistake twice.

  When the sea air hit his face, he slowed, thinking. Dane had been wobbly-legged foxed one night after Cass died and damn near cried when he told Warrington how they’d hated Cass. They’d seen the truth before he had. With Melina, he didn’t need to be warned. Just like Ca
ss, she made her plans and only said enough to further them. A woman in a household wasn’t necessary or needed. He’d had enough of broken crockery, tears and lies to last a lifetime. The whirling dream of love he’d had had turned into a whirling nightmare of the wrong kind of passion.

  Instead of going directly to his cabin—or whatever part of it he might share—Warrington paced the deck, trying not to long for Melina’s touch. Every time his heart beat, desire pumped through his veins. He shook his head gently, trying to force her from his mind, but he couldn’t. And his feet didn’t co-operate and wouldn’t take him a second turn around the ship, or let him stay out in the air. He had to get back to her.

  When he walked into the room, he looked to the floor. Melina lay fully dressed on the pallet. Her hair still remained in a twist and she had the shawl pulled over her for a cover. Her half-parted lips and regular breathing reassured him. She hardly looked old enough to be the woman she was.

  He knelt, his fingers barely grazing the skin of her cheek. ‘Wake.’

  She half opened her eyes. ‘My legs are near run off. The captain keeps me at his side while he sleeps, and when he stops dozing, he sends me to sleep. When I begin to dream, he calls for me again. He’s unkind.’

  Warrington shook his head. ‘No. He’s not. Gid’s keeping Ben’s mind in a fog so the pain will not get to him. The medicine has addled him a bit, and the injury, and he’s used to a life with men around him.’

  ‘And bad women.’

  ‘He’s not called Saint Benjamin, but Captain Benjamin.’ Warrington braced himself again against the empty bunk, still devoid of any mattress. ‘He’s keeping you from me.’

  Warrington rocked back with the movement of the ship, and sat, tugging his boots from his feet, taking stockings with the footwear. He slipped his scuffed boots under the bottom railing. He wished for a bed. A real bed. With bed coverings and pillows that didn’t smell as if a horse had used them first.

  ‘I know.’ Melina shut her eyes as she spoke. ‘Neither of you wish me to sleep.’

  Warrington knelt, taking her face in his hands, and her eyes quickly opened. ‘I hope for you to savour being awake with me.’ He saw the tightness of her lips. ‘This time will be better. I’ll show you what it can truly be like between a man and a woman who—’

  He stopped. How would he know what it was like to be with someone who loved him? After Jacob was born, Cass had once taunted him by calling him by someone else’s name when he bedded her.

  But he hadn’t given up on Cassandra—at least not then. She glowed at soirées, entertained society with the charm of royalty. Everyone wanted to be within the beam of Cassandra’s smile. When she desired, she would sit and converse with him in such a way he could feel the love in his heart and believe so easily she loved him.

  Then one day, during the flash of her smile, he caught the smugness behind in her face and he knew that the sweeter she talked, the deeper her machinations were. And he looked pleasantly back at her and continued laughing with her while his world crashed.

  She was Jacob’s mother. The woman he truly loved. And she was flawed. No matter that she had no true love in her, she went through the motions on occasion. She did want the appearance of perfection. And without a doubt, she wanted to be a countess and enjoy the luxuries he could provide. He’d purchased a wife, just as he’d acquired the carriage she rode in. Only he’d not realised it at first.

  He looked at Melina. ‘It’s all for pleasure.’ He took her hand, but the memory of holding Cass’s fingers when he asked her to marry him flashed in his mind and his vision blackened. He couldn’t keep thinking of Cass.

  He pulled his hand back and undid his shirt and slipped it over his head. Then he gazed at Melina. She looked so different than Cassandra. The darkness fled his thoughts and he cradled Melina in his arms. He could not sense artifice in her. She didn’t use her body to turn his desire against him and to her own advantage. She felt pure.

  ‘Melina.’ He bent, pulling her so her head tilted back and he could let his lips and face take in the soft skin of her neck and nuzzle the warmth of her. He kissed her pulse. ‘You remind me that there’s a harbour, dry land and real floors. And I want to see you lying in the middle of my bed, waiting for me.’

  ‘You should not think of such things. I have to be on my way once we reach land,’ she said. ‘I will see to the stone’s sale and return to my sisters.’

  He reminded himself to take care. In all of his life he’d never bought a woman’s body, until Melina. And she’d not been willing to settle for one of the men from the island. Captain, she’d said. You’re not the captain? Now she knew he was an earl. As always, he was the highest bidder. Only because of the small size of the island had she kept her innocence. If she’d lived in London, she would have realised the real treasure she had was in her face and her body.

  ‘It won’t be easy to remove a stone from the island if this man you dislike controls the land,’ he said. ‘He will be angry at you because you left.’

  ‘Stephanos does not own the land of the stone. Yorgos does. Yorgos said the stone was only rocks to him and that I have sand in my head if I think it is worth coin. He will help me slip it by Stephanos, or convince Stephanos to let it go. I am near the same age as his children and he calls me kori, daughter. The museum will have to pay the Turks because they will hear of her leaving and have to be given money. It is better to be done while she is still seen as rocks.’

  Currents of relief slid into his body. If she meant to leave him, she could not be planning to ensnare him. But, he couldn’t forget himself. He didn’t need a child on some island, not knowing whether the babe was being fed or the funds he sent given for some man’s ale.

  Yet he could not look at Melina without wanting to push her back on to the bedding, and if he thought of her longer than it took to say her name, his body readied itself to join her.

  He frowned, rocking back on his heels and leaning against the wall of the cabin, pulling her close. He could control himself for a few moments if it meant the peace of having her in his arms.

  He traced the outline of her jaw and then moved to grasp her shoulder, dismayed by the coarseness of her clothes. A body such as hers should only have silks against the skin. Or his touch.

  He rested his chin on her head and took her hair down. Having no place to put the hairpins, he saw his coat hanging on a peg and dropped them in the pocket. He finger-combed her hair around her shoulders, pleased deep within himself at the dark hue. ‘Not much time left before we reach London. We must make the most of it.’

  ‘I cannot even imagine the towns.’ Her eyes were wistful.

  ‘Where did you learn to speak English so plainly?’

  ‘At Melos. I understand French, too. I speak it some.’

  ‘Who taught you?’ He didn’t really care. All he cared about was the perfect shape of her breasts and to let his lips trail to the mark. But then he remembered Ben’s mention of the painting. ‘You could have chosen a French ship to take you to France. What ties do you have to England?’ Warrington watched her face.

  She gave a shrug. ‘I see the French seamen often and they talk badly of the English, but I have also heard pleasant tales of London and the English life. And it is the biggest city I know of and the best museum. They will have a larger purse.’

  Because of the French vessels harbouring at Melos, he would have expected her to approach one of those ships, but they would have less freedom to take a passenger.

  ‘Your ties to England?’ he asked again, just as he repeated pressing his lips to her neck. He shut his eyes, tasting her skin, letting the sweetness of her flow into his body and melt the tightness of his shoulders, and ease his memories.

  She pushed him back. ‘I do not ask you of your life’.

  ‘How did you learn the language so well?’ he asked, stilling.

  ‘We are a natural harbour with many travellers on the island. I speak to them.’

  ‘Melina—I don’t believ
e you are telling me all.’

  Brown eyes met his. ‘No. I am not. And I won’t.’

  A knock interrupted her and a voice commanded. ‘Captain needs the woman.’

  ‘She’s busy,’ Warrington shouted through the door. His hand clasped her wrist and he saw reluctance in her face.

  ‘Go ahead. But if you do, I expect a few nights once we hit land to make up for the ones you don’t give me on ship.’ He let his hand slide to hold hers and knew he made a mistake. ‘Melina… Soft beds. Clean clothing. Food made by someone who knows what it is supposed to taste like. Water—real water—fresh, not stale or salty, to bathe in. Compared to this, we’ll be royalty.’

  He saw her chest rise in a deep breath. ‘Very well,’ she murmured, her hand at the door. ‘With the ship rocking, and the food, my stomach feels one step from death. Hearing the men shout outside the walls and the captain calling me, I feel surrounded by watching eyes. On land, surely the world will not rock so and will have some quiet about it.’ She sighed. ‘I would like to be free from all the men shouting and scratching. It feels as if we all smashed inside a large bottle and someone has put the cork on it, and shakes us about.’

  ‘We will get out of this bottle, and we’ll have a bed of clouds.’ He stood with her. ‘And now I will go to the captain’s cabin with you. I can trust Ben with my life, but I don’t want him too near you.’

  She touched the mark at her breast. ‘He thinks it looks like a fish.’

  Warrington snorted. ‘He lies.’

  He put a hand to her back and guided her to the other cabin, aware of how much the men watched her. He didn’t blame them. If they looked the other direction, all they could see would be an expanse of nothing. And to look at any part of Melina was a treat.

  When Melina reached to knock on the captain’s door, Warrington leaned in, touched the knob and pushed the door open for her.

  Inside the cabin, the air was bitter from some stringent herbal. Ben sat on the bed, head back against the wall, eyes closed, chest still bare. His bruising had faded. He half opened his eyes, then frowned when he saw Warrington. In one hand, he held a poultice pressed to his ribs, and in the other, a brandy bottle Gidley must have collected for him.