by Liz Tyner
Ben swept forward and kicked hard at Stephanos’s hand, causing his sword to skitter away.
Just as Stephanos rose, Benjamin’s fist connected with Stephanos’s jaw, sending him reeling. The second punch doubled him over at his knees and the third backward sweep threw Stephanos against the rail causing him to lose his balance, tumbling overboard into the sea.
Ben stood at the side and called to the sloop’s crew, ‘If you fire on us, we will sweep your deck with the canister rounds in our swivel guns. Many of you will die and for nothing.’
One of the men on the pirate crew tilted his head at Benjamin, a salute of sorts, and then the same man called for the ship to sail. Almost as an afterthought, the man shouted out to another and they made efforts to retrieve Stephanos.
*
For the first time in his life, Benjamin could not move. He was aware of Gidley shouting orders to the quartermaster, but he didn’t attend the words until he heard quiet ones repeated.
‘Livers or hearts?’ Gidley asked at his side.
Forcing himself back into his body, Benjamin looked at the first mate. ‘What?’
‘Livers or hearts? Which is it them savages cuts out of their enemies to eat? That’s what I’m thinkin’ yer was wantin’ to feast on of that Stephanos.’
‘I...’ He could not take his eyes from the departing pirate ship, or his mind from how Thessa might have chosen the other man.
‘Capt’n.’ Gidley’s voice held a father’s firmness. ‘Yer a bit drippy.’ Gid put the sword back in Benjamin’s hand.
Benjamin looked at his hand, surprised to see the weapon. ‘Perhaps the fencing master wasn’t just another tutor...’
‘What?’
Ben shut his eyes and shook his head. ‘My fencing master...I hated him. And he would taunt me. Always. And by the end I wanted to kill him. I’d try and he knew it. He would not let up. Relentless...’ Ben continued. ‘He said some day I would thank him.’
‘Well, yer goin’ to thank him?’
‘No. I’m just angry he was right.’
Benjamin slipped the sword in the sheath and reached to unbuckle the belt, then looked around the deck, expecting to see Thessa. ‘Where’d she—?’
‘I had to get Stubby to take the woman to her cabin. I had to hold her up to keep her from sliding to the deck. I know a shavin’ cut when I see it. She don’t. That women was starin’ after yer like yer the last drop of ale and she’s been days without a drop.’ He looked at Ben’s chest. ‘I wouldn’t have even bled.’
‘You might still. Today,’ Ben insisted.
‘We had us two ships of men ready to slice and shoot themselves into nothing. ’Cause of a woman. Storms can be on the water, or inside the ship. And this tempest was about to bust open the ship from the inside. Yer know what calls up storms...and we just had one.’
Benjamin gave a sharp shake of his head.
‘She had two choosin’s. Stay or go. And was yer goin’ to let her leave?’
Benjamin shrugged. ‘If she truly wished for it.’
‘And yer can just start callin’ me the prince regent...’ Gidley walked away, still muttering. ‘We’d be swimmin’ in blood now if that woman had ’ave took a step to that other man. She’s like that goddess Thessalonia...that one yer don’t hear much about, but I think the Good Book has a whole chapter about not worshippin’ her.’
‘Gid,’ he called out, unfastening the remains of his coat. He’d never wear it again. Sea life had already harmed the buttons.
He used the edges of his shirt to daub at the cut. ‘Stop your yarns or you will be hurt worse than I am.’
‘Capt’n.’ Gid nodded and moved away, but his words continued. ‘I was hurtin’ worse than yer when I left my bunk this mornin’ ’cause my bones always hurts before any sort of a storm. And that woman be all sorts of bad weather.’
*
Benjamin took the ewer and poured water into the washbowl. He dipped his hands in the liquid and used both palms to wet his face. He had to get the ship to England. And to avoid Thessa.
First he removed the coat, folded it and put it on the chair. Taking his shirt off and bunching it, he tossed it against the closed door. Next he carefully cleaned the wound, noting Gid was right about the superficial nature of the cut. Only one side had any depth and the edges of the skin didn’t separate enough to need a bandage.
Leaning over the basin, palms flat on the wood of the table, he watched drops of water from his face splash. She had some power that made even his skin breathe in the scent of her. He could hold out his palm if she stood near and it tingled, wanting to touch her.
He was like some besotted youth. He had some madness. Foolish madness. He jabbed the cut clean with so much force he winced. But the pain didn’t help clear his mind.
He needed someone to talk some sense into him. Perhaps there was some ritual to remove the curse of a woman.
He’d seen the curse resting on his eldest brother twice and knew how it addled a man.
Warrington’s first wife had been evil wrapped up in angelic form and eyes dripping with innocence. No one could have been more endearing than Cassandra, and no one had been more heartless. Benjamin’s eldest brother had experienced a woman controlling his thoughts.
Warrington would understand.
But Thessa wasn’t Cassandra. She wasn’t.
Thessa was bursts of warmth and stoked needs burning within him that he had not imagined existed, much less felt.
He had the Ascalon. He needed nothing else. He had his mermaids in the paintings. He had coin—to buy all he needed from a woman.
He didn’t need a woman with legs. They were tentacles to snap around a man and drag him from the sea to the hard earth and the depths of despair. He had to breathe the sea air to live. He would suffocate on land.
But how could he stay away from her for days when she was so close? He needed an ocean between them. Even that might not be enough.
He’d had the misfortune to meet the woman who could mesmerise him—a woman of his dreams. A woman he thought unreal. Safely stored in his imagination. Out of his reach, impossible to touch.
But now she rested only footsteps from him, and she called to him with a strength stronger than any siren’s.
Thessa controlled the secret corners of his thoughts. She rested in his mind where no one else had been before.
But again he’d been ready to kill, and if she’d chosen Stephanos Ben would not have let her go. He’d not lied to her. But perhaps he’d lied to himself. Perhaps he’d not killed Stephanos only because he didn’t want Thessa to see such an act. In those moments, he had no conscience. Perhaps he was no better than the pirate.
And now he had a woman on his ship who called to him like a siren and she had no idea.
He did not know if he could stay from her only hours, so how could he finish the journey without touching her?
He dipped his hands in the water again, wrung out the cloth and put it aside. Using his wet hands, he pushed his hair back from his face, trying to be cleansed of his thoughts.
And his mind would not obey its own command. He kept thinking of Thessa and the walls seemed to whisper how desirable she’d look naked before him. It even filled in the curves of her body.
He would go to the helm and he would sail Ascalon better than she’d ever sailed before, and they’d get to England.
And he’d see the women to Warrington—no, he’d send them with Gid to Warrington’s estate. Gid could give the message to War that they’d failed on getting the treasure. After all, Benjamin needed to get the ship loaded quickly and leave the dock.
Thessa would be gone, and he would sail to the other end of the earth. The women were his brother’s family—not his. And he would deliver them to the earl and tell himself Thessa was a dream.
He had to make up for the losses. The lost time because he’d gone haring off to the island. And the loss of funds because he’d chosen a woman he could not touch, over a treasure which would have
brought him the ship which cradled him at night.
He’d betrayed his true love.
Fool.
Chapter Thirteen
Thessa sat in the cabin, on the planks, letting the gentle glide of the ship soothe her. Bellona walked around the deck again.
Thessa could hear the captain shouting orders through the wall. People in Greece could hear those commands.
She had been surprised when the captain had bested Stephanos. She thought no one could. And when she saw the sword slice through Benjamin, she’d known how her own death would feel.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she relived the kiss again. His eyes had changed. He’d looked at her—into her. She’d been able to see his thoughts, only they didn’t speak words she knew. They’d connected her to him in a way she didn’t understand.
When he backed away after the kiss, crinkles had formed at his eyes and around his mouth. But he’d been affected, she’d thought. And now she wondered. She should not be thinking of him. It had been days since Stephanos had boarded the ship. Since then, the captain had never looked her way once.
He could not have kept any more distance from her, yet he was no further away than her elbow, almost. He seemed unaware of her. But something told her he ignored her too well. She could not be as invisible to him as it appeared. A man who had no concern of her would have spoken at least a bit. Would not have managed to stay at the other side of the ship whenever she stepped outside.
Bellona mentioned she’d spoken with him several times and he’d told her the cut was nothing. A sword had slashed across his chest and he thought it nothing...
And it had almost knocked her to her knees.
She moved to the window, hoping for a glimpse of the captain, but she couldn’t see anything but shadows and shapes.
Thinking of the captain made her feel the same as when she walked into water, seaweed brushing her legs. She could move her toes and bubbles from the earth rose up and tickled over her body.
Once they reached shore, the captain intended to sail again. Gidley told her the voyage would be two years, if they came back at all. She had no illusions that Stephanos was the only man at sea who would attack a ship. The captain might never return.
The Ascalon was going to deposit her in London. The ship would dock and she would be with her sister and the captain would be gone. For ever.
She could not become like her mother and be waiting and longing for a man who did not want to stay with her. She could not, and would not, because as soon as the captain reached London they would go their different ways. He would sail and she would be with her sister, and the captain would be gone.
She only thought of him because he’d been willing to die for her.
Leaning her forehead against the windowpane, she tried to see more of the ship.
He’d been willing to die for her.
She wondered how a mermaid would proceed.
*
Benjamin kept himself too busy to think. He worked to exhaust himself. He wondered if the ship had reached the point where the only one not consumed by Thessa’s presence was Gidley.
But Ben had adjusted. Kept himself busy and hadn’t gone to her cabin. He had to be thankful she shared the room with her sister. And he was. That had saved him.
Now he had himself completely under control. The cut on his chest was healing nicely. He reached up and pressed against it. Tender, but no pain. And some day, somewhere, a woman would see the scar and he would not have to embellish a word of the tale. He would not mention Thessa, but he would mention Stephanos.
And his secret would be that he relished the scar. Was pleased that he had received it for Thessa. He would always have that reminder of her.
He could almost feel pleased as he turned the last watch of the night over to Gidley. Benjamin admired the perfect sea and the shimmering stars overhead. He wished for a taste of the brandy he had stored snug and tight in the bottom of his sea chest.
He stepped into his cabin and lit the lantern. He would put Thessa from his mind. He would not think of her.
After turning to his wash basin, he heard rustling behind him. He jolted around, his hand clasping the hilt of the knife in his belt. A shape half rolled, half fell from his bunk.
Thessa perched herself at the side of his bed, her eyes nearly asleep. ‘I waited until after darkness fell and I crept very carefully. I don’t think any of your men saw me. I didn’t mean to sleep,’ she said, her hands smoothing the tendrils which had escaped from her braid. ‘Bellona is in our bunk and the floor is hard.’ She sighed. ‘And I thought, just for a moment, I’d rest while I waited for you.’ She yawned, her fingertips sliding along the covers.
Benjamin nodded, thoughts crashing into his mind so quickly he couldn’t speak. He put his hand on the table to keep from falling off the edge of the earth. Her tousled hair called for his fingers and her sleep-filled eyes slammed thoughts of pleasures into his body. He steadied his voice. ‘No harm done.’
Her trouser legs dragged the floor. He could not see her feet. Thank goodness.
‘I have not told you how pleased I am you sent Stephanos away,’ she said.
‘My job. For my crew.’
‘I will never forget it.’
He shrugged. ‘I have put it from my mind.’
He wanted to shout at her to leave and he could no more do that than he could turn into Poseidon. Awareness of her rippled throughout his body. This woman could have walked into the cabin—a room which now felt smaller than it ever had before—with horns on her head, put a trident tip to his neck and he would have been thinking of how warm she made him feel. He suspected nothing, ever, would completely dull his awareness of her when he saw her.
Her siren’s smile hit his stomach, causing an eruption of desire to take his breath. Her lips moved again, speaking. He wasn’t sure if she spoke English or Greek. He didn’t hear what she said.
‘Thessa...’ This called for blunt talk—talk so clear it had images attached. He had to frighten her away, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to push her out the door. Once his hands touched her, he’d not be in control of them.
She took a step closer.
He sneaked a look at her toes. Perfect.
But he had to get her away. She had to run from the room. Now. He had to frighten her to safety. He was experienced at getting women to leave without upsetting them.
He undid the ties of his shirt. He pulled the garment over his head and let the sleeves slide off and catch at his wrists.
The air now touching his chest must have brushed over her first, because he could feel every current of it, like embers floating in the air, but not hot enough to burn, just warm enough to feel.
But—she didn’t seem to mind that he’d removed his shirt.
‘Oh.’ Her lips parted and she moved to him. Her fingers touched the slightest part of the wound. ‘You are so fortunate to have survived.’
He could not move. He swallowed so he would be able to form words.
‘I am not injured.’
‘But you are.’ Her eyes didn’t move from his chest and her fingers brushed the edges of the cut, leaving volcanic heat in their wake.
‘Thessa. You must leave.’ He kept his shirt so it covered the front of his trousers. She didn’t need to see the truth. And she really needed to take her fingers from his chest, but he couldn’t move her to the door. He had his shirt gripped in both hands. If he reached to push her away—he would not push her away.
She stood, her hand at his chest, and he looked at the wall beyond her shoulder. ‘I am not unaffected by you.’
‘I hoped...you were not.’
‘I think of you occasionally.’
‘As do I you.’
But he was honourable. ‘And I would like to bed you, but if I did, then I must offer something in exchange. Money, love or marriage. One or all three. I can offer you none of those, Thessa.’
She shrugged away his words. ‘You will be pleased. I will ask f
or no love or ties.’
He shut his eyes. ‘Thessa. What in blazes are you thinking?’
His eyes couldn’t stay away from her. He threw the shirt to the floor.
‘I don’t know. But you are so beautiful—’ She sighed and her voice held a hint of sadness. ‘And I look at you... What if I die? What if the ship sinks? What if you die? I feel that we should not...avoid each other.’
‘No.’ He pulled out the chair, and pointed to it, mentally commanding her to sit. She didn’t move and her lips were now in a firm line.
‘Have you forgotten I am from the same land as your father?’ he asked.
‘You are not anything like the other men. The water has washed your blood clean.’
Benjamin shook his head. ‘No. I am as unclean as can be. I am not a...man to be with you, Thessa. I’ve...I’m not a—’
‘Perhaps.’
The little shrug of her shoulders, the tilt of her head, the turn of her chin—she didn’t look convincingly upset.
He put a palm flat on the table and leaned towards her, trying to ignore the screaming inside his head which called him all kinds of a fool for still speaking and not moving towards her.
She stared at him. ‘You could have died.’
‘It’s not uncommon.’
She shrugged. ‘I understand, I suppose.’
Benjamin closed his mouth and dried his palms on his trousers. ‘Thessa, I would very much like to take you to bed.’
She glanced at the bunk. ‘I know. I understand. The bed...’ She inhaled. ‘It smells of the sea, the ship...’
When her face turned back to him and he read her thoughts, he could not move.
‘It is like being wrapped in the scent of pine and leather and warmth,’ she said. ‘I do not know how you ever leave this bed. It’s almost the same as being held in the arms of the sea and gives the feeling of wine even when none has been tasted.’ She stepped back and sat on the side of his bed. ‘I have never felt a bed like this before.’
‘You have to leave.’ The words made his throat hoarse. ‘I think of you night and day, and have since the moment I first saw you. No other woman has moved me so.’
