by Liz Tyner
‘It’s his wife’s funds. He doesn’t know. He treated you the same as her children, only worse. His wife didn’t like that he abandoned both families. She gave you the same dowry she would give her own daughter.’
Her father didn’t know and his wife had provided a dowry. Oh, he would not like that. ‘I will tell him.’
Benjamin held out his hand in a stopping motion. ‘No, you will not. She asked it to be a secret. I should not have even mentioned it.’
‘Well, it would not be like you to keep something from me.’
‘Thessa.’ He snapped the word out.
‘Captain?’ She opened her eyes wide.
‘I am leaving soon. I will never see you again. Can we not have peace between us so the memories will not be so sharp?’
She didn’t know how he thought the recollections would be any easier. ‘I would so dislike your recall not being laden with soft pillows and soft beds and gentle thoughts. I assure you, though, mine will not have those things. So perhaps it is for the best that I finally learned what sort of man captains a ship. I did not learn it easily. Now I will not forget it. So I must thank you for making our parting easier.’
‘I would never choose it to be like this.’
Sadness flowed from his eyes. She wanted to hold him. To have him comfort her and take away the knowledge that he’d deceived her. That he’d be leaving. But he could not hand her any kind of flowers and remove the truth.
‘Is the dowry enough to...take it from another man’s mind that I have lain with you?’
‘Your eyes are enough for that.’ He walked around, straightened the earl’s chair, kept his hands on the back of it and faced the table. ‘With my brother’s support, and the funds, and the fact that you will be seen as a rarity, you will not be short of suitors. You could be betrothed very soon. It’s already been whispered about that Melina is of the highest lineage. It’s assumed she received the good bloodlines from the Greek heritage. But you are related to a duke on your English side.’
She could tell he expected some response from his saying she was related to a peer, but she didn’t care who her ancestors were on her father’s side.
She looked at the way his shoulders bunched while he held the rungs and remembered that he had kissed her longing mark. She could still feel the kiss, only now it knifed into her stomach and made her very bones ache. ‘I could possibly find another man who owns a ship.’
His neck tensed. ‘I’m sure.’
‘I will be in my room until I leave to see Melina. I will stay with her. So have a safe voyage, Captain, and do not catch any mermaids. I hear they very much like to sink ships.’
*
Benjamin stood at the window in his captain’s cabin, staring at the broken curve of his little finger and the gold ring that adorned it.
The man he’d killed in the tavern skirmish had broken Benjamin’s fingers, but Ben hadn’t felt it until later. He’d expected to die before the fight ended—was fairly certain of it. He’d only cared that he inflict enough wounds on the other man to make him die later.
None of it would ever go away. Not the bent fingers. The dying face he often saw. Or the latest scar he’d added to his body. The deepest one.
Thessa was at Warrington’s country home and Ben hadn’t wanted to be at the town house with the big bed and empty pillow. Besides, he was needed on the ship.
Gid opened the door. ‘I’m supposin’ she took it real well ’bout the dowry and all.’
Benjamin nodded, eyes still on his hands.
‘Women always do,’ Gidley continued. ‘They ruffle their feathers, but they’s not so good with loadin’ arms or throwin’ knives. If they was serious, they’d practise.’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, did yer brother tell her in that real gentle way he has?’
Ben shot Gidley a glare.
‘I’d say it be time to throw a few coins to buy something a lady thinks more of than a man ever will,’ Gid continued. ‘Hothouse flowers or something of that ilk. Don’t know why things that yer spent coin on, but don’t mean nothin’ ’cept they’re eye-catchin’, can take the growl out of a woman.’
Benjamin nodded.
‘Ever note how a woman can be salved with fripperies? Shiny things?’ He looked around. ‘Yer could throw some her way.’
Benjamin shook his head.
‘Paper and ink. Yer have plenty of that. Tear a page from that book yer keep yer records in and write her something. Draw a picture of a rose.’ He looked at Benjamin. ‘Yer don’t draw good, do yer?’
Ben just looked at Gidley.
‘Poem. Yer remember any them kind that makes women swoon—all about fair hearts and yon lights in windows, and bein’ noble?’
Benjamin turned to stare at the sky outside the window, not answering Gidley. Trying to calm the turbulent seas inside himself.
He’d made a momentous mistake when he’d touched Thessa—not to mention the smaller one of not telling her about the dowry. Or perhaps it was the other way, but he didn’t understand it. He braced his arm on the wall, but leaned to look at his boots.
He’d been lied to many times by women and he’d not taken it so hard. I’ve never seen such a stallion. I’ll never forget you, Benjamin. No, you don’t look a day over twenty-five.
And, I love all my sons the same.
Chapter Nineteen
Melina’s voice interrupted the silence. ‘Send for the captain.’
Thessa and Melina were alone in the sitting room, the cups of steaming tea untouched and the scent of the second plate of biscuits Melina had requested scenting the room. Bellona was in the gardens, playing with Warrington’s children from his first marriage.
‘I will not.’ Thessa kept ripping the letter she’d written to Benjamin. She’d forgotten to say a few things to him that morning on the ship and she’d not been able to sleep for thinking of what she should have said.
‘Then go to him. You should tell him goodbye,’ Melina suggested.
‘I did. And I was very kind and pleasant.’
‘You shouldn’t have been.’
Thessa’s loud breath was loud enough to show her opinion. What the captain did to her was no different than being a pirate. Hiding the dowry. Taking her body.
She concentrated on the paper in her hands. She’d not known enough of English writing to make sure the words were right and she’d refused to ask her sister for help. And the picture she drew of the demon tearing the heart from a woman’s body did not please her either.
Thessa worked to make the smallest bits of the paper that she could, imagining this was just what a man did whenever he neared a woman’s heart.
‘He doesn’t tell the truth.’ Thessa tore another piece of the paper smaller.
‘The captain didn’t steal the funds. They have all been given to Warrington for your dowry.’ Melina broke a biscuit in half and ate part of it. ‘I know he should have told you, but...’
‘He kissed my foot,’ Thessa confessed. ‘That was a lie.’
She hated him most of all because he’d kissed her foot. The part of her that was different than any other person. Even now—thinking of it—her breasts warmed and her toes would not be still.
‘Did he see the mark?’ Melina asked.
‘He kissed it.’
‘You know what Mana said...’ Melina leaned back, hands on her ever-increasing stomach.
‘Yes. But she’s not here now and I won’t marry him and besides, that only counted for you and Bellona. My spot is on my foot.’
Melina touched the line of her bodice where the mark peeked out. ‘Warrington kisses it every morning.’
Thessa coughed. ‘Don’t make me ill.’
‘He is a kind husband.’
‘I don’t like him either.’
‘What harm will it do to visit the captain on the ship? You can be pleasant to him. Ask him why he didn’t tell you. Then push him overboard.’
‘What harm?’ She looked at her sister’s
girth. ‘I am fortunate now if I am not already harmed.’
‘You do not have to repeat what must have been such an unpleasant moment for you. But I promise, you can get quite used to it.’
She leaned towards her sister. ‘He asked me...’ she paused ‘...to swim with him.’
‘Did you?’
‘No. I am a good woman. I was betrothed. We were on Melos.’
‘But you were in his bed.’
‘You know what the beds are like here.’
‘Sinful.’
Thessa nodded three times. ‘The ones on the ship are much...safer.’
‘Talk with him on the Ascalon then, where it is safe.’
‘No. I will not go to him.’
‘What if you never again meet someone like him?’
‘If I am fortunate, I won’t.’
‘I don’t like him either.’
Thessa stilled. ‘You don’t like him?’
‘His language. He is vulgar.’
‘No, he isn’t.’
‘Yes,’ Melina insisted, crossing her arms over her stomach. ‘When I was on the ship, during a storm he was dashed into the wood whilst saving the cabin boy. The captain had laudanum for pain.’ She let out a sharp breath through her nose. ‘He talked of Warrington’s first wife and called her all sorts of names. Some I recognised. Many I didn’t. I have never heard a man with such strong language.’ She put her hand to her cheek.
‘If he was hurting...’
‘Now that I remember I can imagine why you do not wish to return to him. I gave him brandy after the laudanum. He was sotted so easily. And the rest of the time he was unkind to Warrington, trying to keep him from me. I don’t like him at all.’
‘Perhaps he was doing you a boon to keep Warrington from you. The earl’s...so...I don’t know. He grumbled all the way here in the carriage.’
Melina frowned. ‘Warrington is the best of the three brothers. Warrington said Ben has always been difficult. Worse since their mother died, even though War said his brother was no angel before.’
She patted her stomach. ‘The parents always coddled Ben because he was the youngest. He ran away from home and their father would bring him home time and again. Ben didn’t want to go to university as he should and their father let him stay at the docks. Warrington gave him the simple task of returning with the stone woman and you see how that turned out.’
Thessa kept her voice quiet. ‘Yes. He chose me over a pile of rocks. Broken ones.’
‘If he’d planned properly, surely he could have brought you both back. I wanted that statue and Warrington was to pay well for it.’
‘The captain did not want to leave me with Stephanos. You know how the Greek is.’
‘Yes. Not a wise man at all, and he almost outsmarted the captain. I am surprised the captain was able to keep you and Bellona on the ship. It’s wondrous he didn’t leave you both—and the sculpture—with Stephanos.’
‘I don’t like you either.’
Melina smiled. ‘I can have the carriage ready if you wish to leave my home.’
‘I will do that because I do not wish to listen to your nonsense.’ She stood, looked at the two biscuit plates beside her sister and took the empty one. She held the plate just lower than the edge of the table and scooped the torn pieces of paper into it.
She didn’t say anything as she tried to get every last scrap of paper.
Melina made a ticking noise with her tongue. ‘I do understand why you are upset. It is a shame to let the captain get away with so much. I thought him a most irritating man.’
Thessa stood straight and gripped the plate in both hands. ‘I know why you are saying this. I know what you are doing and I am still angry at you for it. Only because I am a guest in your house am I not shouting at you.’ She paused. ‘Never—ever—talk badly about the captain.’
When she left the room, she held the plate very carefully so the torn paper would not fly about the room.
Chapter Twenty
Thessa had her new reticule on her wrist and her new half boots which were quite fashionable, but felt like what she imagined a tight saddle would feel on a horse who’d eaten too much. The doeskin gloves she wore reached to her capped sleeves and she particularly liked the large ring she wore over the gloves.
The maid had insisted to add some powder on her face and a bit of smudge at her eyes, which Bellona claimed made Thessa look entirely unlike herself and almost appealing.
Thessa walked up the plank connecting the ship to the dock. Gidley saw her and met her. His eyes widened and he took in the bonnet with blue ribbons fluttering in the wind. Her dress matched perfectly and the bodice was exactly as one would wish when visiting a man who had not been truthful.
‘Miss Thessa?’ Gidley asked, eyes wide.
‘Where is the captain?’
‘He be in his cabin. Plannin’ our journey.’ Gidley’s sigh could have puffed the sails had they been unfurled. ‘After spendin’ his mornin’ hours tryin’ to think of ways to tell yer of his everlastin’ sorrow for one sad misstep.’ He put his hand to his heart. ‘He’s mournful. I near had to wipe the tears from his eyes.’
‘I can’t sink the ship unless someone leaves a cannon lying about so you do not have to worry.’
Gidley stiffened his spine. ‘I know yer can’t, but I thought Capt’n might need some help with his flowery words. The lad’s never had to use ’em before and he’s not good at sayin’ he’s wrong.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Yer can trust I know what I’m talkin’ about on that.’
‘I don’t need any sweet words.’
She turned to the captain’s cabin, but just at the door her feet stopped, then she took a stroll around the deck and, as each crewman took her in, she smiled. She saw the confused stares, heard the whispers in her wake and held her head even higher as the men speculated on whether she truly was that woman who’d just sailed with them.
Then she went to the captain’s cabin and opened the door. He looked up from the desk, eyes a bit smudged underneath—even without a maid’s help. The room was dark and she knew the sun was bright behind her. His glance narrowed and his head tilted as he tried to place her.
She stepped inside and used her strength to shut the door.
One side of his mouth turned up. ‘Thessa.’
‘I wrote you a letter,’ she said. ‘And I brought it to you.’ She reached into the reticule and pulled out the scraps, letting them flutter over his desk. ‘I don’t write well, but you can understand that, I’m sure.’
He examined the top of his desk as he put down his pen. ‘I’m not having any trouble at all reading it.’
‘Do you have anything to say?’
‘I should beg your pardon, but I don’t regret what I did.’
She reached back into her purse, pulled out more paper and tossed it towards his face. ‘That is the second page.’ Scraps littered his hair.
He blew a puff of paper from his lips and dusted across his head, removing a few scraps. ‘Is there a page three?’
She reached in and, with a flick of her wrist, more paper flew into the air.
‘I don’t know who you are in that clothing,’ he said to her. ‘But I love you anyway.’
‘It is too late. I came to tell you again to have a safe trip. I hope you find a thousand mermaids—kind ones. That does not mean I have forgiven you. And I don’t like your brother—he frowns until my sister walks into the room—then they make me seasick to watch them. And I hate your paintings.’
He flicked a piece of the letter from the desk. ‘Is there anything else you hate?’
‘I am not fond of either of my sisters right now. And I am not fond of you.’
‘But you do not hate me?’
‘No.’ She shrugged. ‘In the letter it says I hate you so if you read that, I changed my mind in the carriage ride. It is a long journey. I had time to think.’
‘I am pleased you do not hate me.’ He stood.
‘And I do not care that you lo
ve me because—’ She touched her bonnet, adjusting it. ‘I can tell in your face it changes nothing.’
His sea-blue eyes took her in. ‘It doesn’t change that I’m sailing and you are staying.’
She took her reticule, turned it up and dumped the remaining fragments on his desk. ‘This is the next letter. It says the same as the first, though.’
He leaned across the desk, took her face in his hands and gave her the smallest kiss on her lips. ‘I thank you for again giving me a chance to tell you I love you, and for not saying you hate me.’
She dropped the reticule and clasped both his wrists as he pulled away. ‘You do not say you love me and then show that it means nothing to you. I am worth much more than that. And you are the one who misled me.’
His hands circled hers and he held her fingers, letting their grasps fall to just above the desk. ‘Thessa. I don’t know what I would have done that morning on Melos concerning the dowry if I had collected the statue. Stephanos might have been right. I wondered after we sailed if I’d intended to take you with us when we left. I’m not certain. It would have been wrong, but I already knew I wanted you with us. I’m no better than Stephanos. I told Gid we’d get the stone, and before I went to the cabin that night I told him we weren’t going to sail immediately, but that he should be ready to leave quickly at any time. I could not abandon you and Bellona.’ He put his eyes down. ‘Even if, perhaps, you did not want to leave.’
‘You wouldn’t have forced me to marry you as Stephanos did. That I know. You have not tried to persuade me one—one time to marry you. You have not even asked nicely.’
‘No.’
‘If I told you I was going to have a child, would it matter?’
His shoulders sagged a bit, but he looked at her. ‘You simply cannot know. And it will not matter in that I will still sail if you are having a child. We will just have to wed first and I will get a special licence and speak the words for you if I have to. My brother will certainly let you live in the town house, or with the dowry you can live wherever you wish. I will see that you always have your needs cared for and the child will be cared for. But I cannot risk your life at sea.’
