A Captain and a Rogue (Mills & Boon Historical)

by Liz Tyner

  Just inside the low wall that would surround the new house, Benjamin saw a rough table, with planked boards for seating. Trees, not big enough for true shade, gave the illusion of coolness.

  ‘Poto.’ Stephanos raised his hand. His words, while not loud, carried to someone Benjamin couldn’t see until a head darted from the doorway of the smaller house.

  Stephanos took Thessa’s hand, leading her, and guided her to a seat.

  Thessa spoke to Stephanos in Greek, reproof in her tone. He laughed and his eyes crinkled at the edges. His head leaned towards her and he said a few soft words, and a blush spread on her cheeks.

  Then he turned to Benjamin and perused him. Stephanos’s cheeks puffed, probably because of the thin line of his lips.

  Thessa spoke again and the man’s eyes met her face, though his attention had never really left her. She gestured, her arm going towards the harbour.

  Stephanos shook his head.

  Thessa’s eyes narrowed and the speed of her speech increased. Her voice became more intent. While she talked, rapidly, the man placed his fingertips at Thessa’s arm and the fingers tightened.

  ‘Polyagapimenos.’ He looked into Thessa’s eyes and spoke the word as if they were alone—an endearment.

  Benjamin could feel a grinding in his stomach, and a sudden need for movement, but he forced himself to sit silent and appear unconcerned.

  Stephanos spoke again, words quiet and effectively shutting Benjamin out of conversation. Even if the words had been shouted Benjamin couldn’t have understood, but Stephanos knew that well. Then he reached out and brushed back a tendril of hair from Thessa’s brow, one wisp so small the invisible lock could not have distressed her. And his hand lingered, then fell away.

  Benjamin felt something crack within him and anger began to war with the good sense in his body.

  Thessa was going to be married to the man. But the display of possession was not necessary.

  Stephanos’s gaze locked on Benjamin’s and he spoke, but the words were more measured, slow drops in a pail, not the rapid spraying to confuse.

  Thessa took a moment before translating. ‘He wishes you to spend the night here. He wants you to have his hospitality, though you will soon be leaving. And discuss the transaction of the stone.’

  Her eyes didn’t match her words. And Benjamin had heard tales of the area. And not just the myths or the legends of the women, but of men who could fight until the last drop of blood had been drained. Looking into Stephanos’s eyes, he decided the stories he’d heard had not been yarns. Enjoying the Greek’s hospitality would not be healthy or wise. Ben knew he would stay on Ascalon.

  Benjamin felt his chest expand with his breath. ‘I need to discuss the purchase, so my men can begin digging.’

  Stephanos spoke, his dark eyes never leaving Benjamin’s face. Benjamin had observed more pleasant looks on the faces of men who’d tried to gut him with a blade. He knew, though, that the man wasn’t thinking of violence. Instead, he was fluffing his feathers for Thessa and doing a little blustering dance.

  ‘He feels a guest should not have to dig and he wishes to see what is so important to you that you would sail so far to collect,’ Thessa translated.

  Benjamin put his forearm on the table, aware of the strain to the sleeve fabric of his coat that stretching his muscles could bring. He would wager his feathers were as bright as Stephanos’s.

  Benjamin answered Thessa, but his eyes met Stephanos. ‘It is an old stone with a woman’s face and women can be so sentimental. My brother is besotted with Melina, who wants the stone as a memory of her homeland. My brother’s mind is not clear, so he thinks the folly of my retrieving it will endear him to his new wife. A quest of the heart, if you will.’

  Benjamin might—might—have thought Stephanos didn’t understand him, but at the mention of the heart quest, Stephanos’s pupils ascended upwards in a quick dart to show his feelings of such a journey.

  ‘My brother,’ Benjamin continued, ‘near puts rose petals at his wife’s feet. Sings of his love to her standing under her window at night. Composes poetry for her at all hours of the day. It is the way a true man of my country treats his beloved.’

  Well, Warrington had married Melina and he surely had time for the Byron-and-flowers nonsense since a man’s eyes didn’t always close when his head hit the pillow.

  Thessa watched Benjamin. She opened her mouth to translate. He continued before she could speak.

  ‘In fact, she has complained of her fingertips being tired of his kisses. It is such a sincere love. Made all the sweeter by the flavour of her culture that Melina brings to the household. Having a mix of the two worlds makes her all the more fascinating. Even I would never have imagined how the English and Greek could blend to bring the best of each to life. A woman with such a history is a rare discovery, a treasure for an Englishman.’ Benjamin’s gaze flicked to Thessa and back to her Stephanos.

  Benjamin knew diplomacy was more important than challenge, but something else had controlled him in that half second, and the primitive urge to taunt Stephanos kept rising up.

  Stephanos’s eyes narrowed. Then he spoke slowly to Thessa, each word a sentence in meaning from the way he bit down on it.

  She turned to Benjamin, her words slow. ‘The price on the statue just increased since it is so valuable to the English.’

  Benjamin kept his tone soft. ‘It is of little consequence to me if I decide not to purchase it. I don’t need a basket of rocks.’ That wasn’t entirely true. But from watching Stephanos’s face, he had no doubt that the man could understand English quite well. ‘Rocks are nothing compared to the beauty of heaven-sent treasures around us.’ Benjamin had no trouble letting his gaze rest on Thessa when he said the words.

  ‘Since I will not leave quickly with the rocks,’ he continued, ‘I will stay longer and enjoy the natural beauty of the island.’ And no matter if he’d be surrounded by blades on all sides, Thessa did capture his eyes.

  Stephanos stood and shouted out two names, and men from inside the new structure stepped outside.

  Movement ignited around him.

  One man stood no bigger than Benjamin’s shoulder and Benjamin estimated him to be all wiry muscle. The slighter ones could be asp-like in their movements and hard to grasp. His clothes, well patched, paired well with his face, which also had been mended a few times. The young one stood taller and wider, and he dressed more with the bloom of youthful pomp.

  Benjamin would gauge the older one the most dangerous.

  Stephanos stood and spoke to Thessa, and even before she translated Benjamin knew what the man had said because she rose and they looked to the path. Stephanos wanted to see the stones.

  A silvery-haired woman descended the stairs of the older house, her gait favouring one leg. She brought wine and mugs to the table. Stephanos spoke to her and she looked up at him, her eyes sparkling, and chattered back. She cast a glance at Thessa and spoke softly to her. Thessa responded in kind.

  The old woman’s eyes appraised Benjamin, then she turned to Stephanos. Her voice sharpened and she pointed to the wine, and then stepped forward to pour. Stephanos’s answer was little more than a grunt.

  ‘We should drink before the walk to the stones,’ Thessa translated, sitting.

  Stephanos and Benjamin returned to their places and the old woman continued talking. She gestured to the two men and they strode into the unfinished house and returned with their own cups and put another bottle on the table.

  She walked over, splashing liquid into the containers, never stopping her chatter.

  Then she returned to the table with the empty bottle and her eyes included them all while she talked, and Benjamin nodded to her as if he understood. And she smiled, rattled on more quickly, and reminded Benjamin of how a favored aunt might treat a nephew.

  Benjamin tasted the wine and smiled at the aged woman. She beamed and moved back into the house, her words falling away.

  The wine wasn’t particularly t
o his taste, but it quenched his thirst and was better than most ale.

  Stephanos poured more for them all, without asking, before they even finished the first mug. When he reached Thessa’s drink, he added a few soft comments—and her smile at him didn’t reach her eyes. Benjamin’s fingers squeezed the mug. He’d known a man who liked to inflict pain once—he had broken Ben’s fingers—and Stephanos reminded him of that heathen.

  Benjamin looked at the new house and imagined Stephanos taking her through it, showing her this room and that, and she would be planning where the children would sleep. This house wouldn’t have straw bedding, but real furniture and mattresses. She would be the reigning queen of the island, but at what cost to her?

  ‘Captain?’ She spoke the word quietly and stood. ‘We are ready to leave now.’

  He turned his head to them. Stephanos watched him with the look of a man about to trounce a rival in a duel taken beyond first blood. Benjamin saw Stephanos signal the men nearby—the older scarred one and the young one. With a tilt of his head, Stephanos told them to follow.

  Benjamin noted that Thessa’s fingers twisted in one end of the sash at her waist, absently pulling it tighter, but watching the men.

  Benjamin only had the one weapon in his waistband and instantly plotted out a strategy, knowing the biggest one’s body would work best as a shield, and the knife in the brute’s sash would be quicker to reach, and larger, than the one in his own boot should he need a second weapon.

  ‘Are we ready to see the stones?’ Benjamin raised his left hand, palm out, and then as he lowered it he unbuttoned his coat.

  Stephanos turned without waiting for a translation and walked beside Thessa.

  The Greek wanted Benjamin to know he understood his words, Benjamin realised. A game to Stephanos—pretending ignorance while admitting he knew the language.

  Benjamin kept his right hand resting at the opening of his coat and his ears listening to the movements behind him. He didn’t like such games, but he understood them.

  Chapter Seven

  Arriving at the site, Stephanos gave a brief shake of his head. Thessa moved to the ground where the figure lay. Bits of freshly unearthed stone mixed with the dirt the captain had moved. No one could walk into the area now and not see the small mounds of freshly scattered rocks and earth. The opened ground was no deeper than a man’s hand and might have been long enough for him to lie in. Several blocks Benjamin had uncovered were part of a circular arch and he supposed the figure of the woman had once stood inside the arch.

  Stephanos stood over it, one hand at his hip, looking down.

  Benjamin stopped beside him. The woman’s features were visible. He could see where he’d slivered away a piece of her nose and she had a chip on her right brow. She even had a pock scar on her chin—though he supposed it was from an errant chisel, or her fall on to the ground. But the mark made her more real. Her eyes stared up, but they weren’t lifeless. The poor woman had seen a lot and now her final resting place was being disturbed.

  An urge to sail without her hit him—to leave her in her own world. He thought of his ship, filled with idle men who, even though they were of good enough character, were not ones to be ignored for long. They were intelligent enough to think of their own ways to amuse themselves and rarely did these amusements endear everyone. Often, they were preludes to disciplinary measures.

  But he needed the rock to trade for Ascalon.

  Thessa’s face came to mind even though he looked at the rigid carving. That was the countenance the artist should have put on the rocks. He wished to have a painting of Thessa—in the water.

  He kept his eyes down, but he imagined the work he could have commissioned if she posed, shoulders just above the waves. Perhaps the painting would be horizontal, with her swimming on her back and just the tiniest tip of her toes sticking from the blue.

  Shutting his eyes, he took a breath. A woman should not be as alluring as Thessa. It was not fair to mankind. Particularly sea captains.

  He’d fallen in love a score of times and the sea always washed the object of desire from his thoughts, but none of the women had flashed through the water—and risen from the waves.

  He must leave the island. He had to get Thessa from his head. Looking again at the pale rock, he thought of the Ascalon. He needed his ship. She was his life and his future. The statue was his gold to support the mistress of his heart.

  Stephanos moved to one knee and with his sun-browned fingers scrubbed away the dirt from the rock’s face. He dug a bit longer, using his hands, and hefted one way and then the other to pull out a ball of ridged stone. He held it out for Thessa to see.

  ‘The bun of her hair.’ Thessa examined it, moving it in a circular fashion.

  Her fingers traced the rock ridges, thoughts hidden, and she used her nail to dislodge the caked dirt, bringing the carved locks of hair into full view.

  Stephanos stared at Thessa. ‘Melina thelo aftos?’ His brows wrinkled.

  Thessa let out a deep breath, shut her eyes briefly and nodded. Benjamin felt certain the other man could hardly believe Melina wanted the stone.

  Stephanos stood, turned to Benjamin and spoke a few more sentences.

  Thessa frowned. ‘He says she is a goddess. Worth much. Very much coin.’

  Stephanos gave a hard toss, hurling the rock to Benjamin’s midsection.

  Benjamin caught the thrust. He tossed it upwards with one hand, catching it. ‘Maybe if one needs something to break out a window glass.’

  Stephanos’s lips quirked up. His words flowed quickly and Benjamin recognised one word quite well. Musée. The French, not Greek, word for museum.

  ‘Over two years ago,’ Thessa translated, ‘when the man from the French museum visited, he told everyone he would be interested in seeing any carvings we might find. To have two men, you and a man from a museum, interested in stones convinces Stephanos she should be guarded carefully. Perhaps the lady is worth many coins.’

  Benjamin nodded. ‘Perhaps. Or a rubbish heap.’ He frowned while rolling the stone ball of hair around in his hands, seeing every side. ‘Except for this bun, of course. I see its value in many ways. It would look quite attractive sitting on a desk to hold down papers when the breeze flows—in a dimly lit room.’ He pitched it to Stephanos, and the man caught it. ‘How much for just the hair?’

  Stephanos tossed the bun back on to the ground, barely missing Benjamin’s boots. The Greek’s words quickened.

  ‘He does not want to bargain for her piece by piece. The hair you can have. The rest of her—he is not sure you are a man to take anything from his land.’

  So the bargaining began. Benjamin hid a smile inside himself. He turned his back to the excavation and let his eyes roam over the faces of the two guards Stephanos had brought along. Then he turned to Thessa. ‘I’m a ship captain. I have spent much feeding the crew to bring them here, I have so little left. I have no time to haggle for a broken rock. When I heard of it, I didn’t know it was in so many pieces. He should pay me many coins to take the rubble from here.’

  She didn’t speak to translate, but when Benjamin faced Stephanos again, the Grecian’s blink was a bit too long and his lips too still.

  ‘But you may tell him,’ Benjamin continued, ‘out of my extremely generous spirit, I can offer him twenty piasters.’

  Stephanos didn’t move a muscle and Benjamin wondered the Greek didn’t tire of hearing the same thing twice, having to wait while she translated between them. A damned annoyance. Both the waiting and the man.

  But perhaps Stephanos used the words of translation to test his own knowledge of English and to discover if Thessa spoke the exact words or softened things.

  Stephanos didn’t shake his head, but instead, stepped to the hole. He put one of his boots against a mound of whitish dirt and raked the dirt back over the opening.

  He looked at Thessa and spoke as he stepped from the excavation.

  ‘He says she doesn’t want to leave and that i
s well with him. He will think about the price overnight, but you must have a higher offer or he will send notice to the museum in France. He says it is sad that it costs you to let the ship sit idle and he does not want to make you linger. But, he cannot decide. So you wait.’

  Benjamin had his true initial bargaining price planned and had left himself room to double it. His first offer had been a jab, a first foray into the process, nothing more.

  ‘It could take some days, many days,’ Benjamin continued, ‘to have a response from the French museum. And the more knowledge of a transaction, the more people who will have a hand out for a share. If Stephanos takes the funds from me he can take his share and tell the leaders of the island he sold it for whatever price he wishes. I make him an offer of...’ He paused, knowing this one was more in line with what he might expect an old statue to cost. A broken one could not be worth much, especially in the pieces he saw. Thessa’s sister had taken an arm, which now rested in Poseidon’s world. The worthless hunk of stone could never be put back together properly without an arm. Never. And he was certain the remaining one had been broken. He’d been a bit careless, and, while he’d certainly not meant to hurt the face, he’d not been particularly careful with the piece.

  It would be less costly to have a whole statue commissioned than to put this one together and have new arms reconstructed. His sister-by-law was daft.

  The stone woman’s hair wasn’t even attached to the head.

  The bun now sat, askew, on the cheeks, near the poor nose. He couldn’t help himself. He bent down and moved the hair from the face. The woman wasn’t looking too pleased.

  He stared down and then across to Thessa. He could see her likeness in the statue. But maybe it was all his imagination.

  He looked across into Thessa’s face. Nothing out of alignment. Eyes dark and rimmed better than any kohl marking could ever accomplish. Face powder, and whatever else women used to enhance their appearance, would be wasted on her. She was crafted better than the woman at his feet. But if he looked closely, the resemblance to the statue was there.