“We’ve been pressed into service,” I told him excitedly.
“We’re your new cooks and doctors,” Abella added happily.
“What?” Mark appeared behind Tristan, concern on his face. “He’s pressed you into service? Has he lost his mind?”
“Excuse you,” I said sharply. “I had to convince him to do it. It’s the only way we won’t all be split apart.”
“A dangerous way,” Mark argued. “You could get yourselves killed!”
“It won’t be any use arguing with her now, Bell.” Tristan grinned as he watched me. “She’s gotten her way and knows it. The women can protect themselves well enough, we both know that. Now, we should just be grateful that God has somehow seen fit to bless us with their company once more.”
Mark gave him a patronizing stare and then glared at Abella as well. “I’m sure you helped her argue her point, too.”
“I did.” She stared at him defiantly, as if daring him to say anything about it.
Sighing, he shook his head. “Why couldn’t you just stay safe, in Paris? Why do you both have to put yourselves in the path of endangerment?” His voice lowered and he leaned in, practically giving her a death stare. “You promised me, Abella!”
“I promised I would be safe,” she shot back. “Not that I would stay in Paris!”
“You and I both know I was asking you to stay there!”
“And we both know that you only kissed me goodbye and made me promise to stay because you weren’t able to do it to Sam!” Huffing, she shoved past him, anger rolling off her as she disappeared down the stairs to the lower decks.
Mark watched her go, staring with an open mouth, and then snapped it shut, turning and walking away from Tristan and me.
“They’re getting along nicely,” Tristan whispered.
Still shocked over the argument I’d witness, I turned to him, frowning. “You’re just happy to see Mark getting pushed around.”
“Maybe.” Grinning, he took my hand. “I don’t have much time. Dagger will be expecting me in the rigging. Half our crew will be taking over the pirates’ ship and sailing to Hispaniola with us. I’ll be spending double the time working. Come away with me now, for just a moment?” He kissed my hand, giving me his most swoon worthy smile and I felt myself blush.
Taking that as an agreement, he turned, his fingers intertwining with my own, and headed toward the crew deck.
Leading me down the stairs, past the hammocks and men scurrying about in their various duties, Tristan pulled me along, hugging the wall. No one paid us any attention, including Abella, who had taken up residence in the galley and was moving things around, most likely planning what food she wanted to make. I felt slightly guilty for not going to help her right away, but remained silent all the same. I hadn’t had Tristan to myself in a week—I hadn’t even been able to talk to him. I needed to hear his voice for more than a few seconds at a time, to feel his skin on mine, to simply be with him and breathe.
Stopping in front of a slightly opened door beneath the captain’s quarters, he smiled, peering inside, and then slid through the gap, guiding me in behind him. He turned the lock and sighed, moving to face me once more.
“Come here.” His voice was rough as he pulled me closer, his mouth finding mine in an instant. He kissed me like a man dying of thirst, and I responded in kind, throwing my arms around him tightly.
Flinching, he pulled away, a grimace on his face. “My back,” he reminded me.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t thinking.” Releasing him immediately, I stepped away, feeling horrified that I’d somehow managed to hurt him again. It was like I wasn’t thinking straight. Was the universe playing a game with me, trying to see how many times I could unintentionally break him?
Putting the thoughts out of my head, I sighed. “Can I see?” I asked softly.
Nodding, he gingerly faced the other way and removed his shirt, revealing several angry red lines webbed across his skin. There were cuts in a few places, but nothing bad enough to need serious attention. Bruises were slowly appearing as well, marring him with dark splotches.
“Is it bad?” Carefully, I touched one of the lines with the tip of my finger.
Glancing over his shoulder, he grinned, shaking his head. “Not as bad as ye’d expect. It hurt when I was getting hit, but it’s more of a dull ache now. It does sting when ye touch it, though.”
Pulling my hand away, I frowned. “I’m sorry, Tristan. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
Moving to face me, he took my hands in his and kissed them. “It’s fine, Sam. I know ye didn’t intend for anyone else to take the fall for ye, but I’m happy to do it, if it means ye remain safe and unharmed.”
Brushing my hand across the saber scar on his shoulder, I tried to keep the tears in my eyes from falling. How many more scars would he earn because of me? How many of them would I be able to see? How many would be on the inside, jagged and painful, but hidden from the outside world—from me? Would he always feel as he did now, pleased and willing to torture himself on my behalf? Or would he finally wake up one day and realize I wasn’t worth all the trouble? Would he see I was broken, lost in a time I still didn’t fully understand, and aching for the family Death had stolen from us? Stopping, my palm rested over his heart, and I sighed, looking him in the eye.
His eyes held a world of understanding in them. There was so much love on his face it practically made my heart melt. The expression he wore was one that said he would never blame me for the things that had happened. He already saw I was shattered and instead of running, he was slowly picking up the pieces and putting me together again. “It doesn’t matter how many scars brand me,” he said softly, placing a hand on the side of my face. “Or how many obstacles we face. So long as it means you are with me until the end. That’s all I want, Sam. Ye and me, together. We’ll get through anything that way.”
It was almost painful, how well he knew me and my thoughts. Laughing slightly, I nodded, a tear escaping my eye. “You aren’t mad I stowed away?”
His thumb brushed over my cheek, his other hand rising to wipe away the tear. “Mad? Never. Surprised? Aye, ye caught me off guard. I should have expected as much from ye, but it didn’t occur to me that ye were as resourceful as to get on a ship ye’d only heard was leaving an hour before. Ye’re a bucket of surprises, woman, did ye know that?”
Cradling my face, he leaned forward, resting his forehead on mine. “But when I saw ye being brought to meet the captain, it was the same as every other time I lay eyes on ye.”
“Oh really?” I chuckled once, feeling more at peace than I’d been in months. “And what is that?”
He made a humming sound, his eyes closing as he exhaled a long breath, as if he were reliving the moment right then and there. “It’s like staring at the sun. Utterly blinding and breathtaking. Then, all at once, ye realize that ye’re staring at the center of the universe, the one thing that keeps ye steady and grounded. The one thing ye would surely die without.”
My breath caught at his words, another tear breaking free and cascading over his hands. I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve such a loyal and adoring companion, or why he was sticking with me after everything I’d put him through, but I loved him so much. I loved him more than I thought was humanly possible, more than the moon and the stars, more than the life that flowed through my own body. He was my strength and my rock, my closest friend, my greatest ally and advocate.
“I love you,” I whispered fiercely, putting my hands over his own.
“And I love ye.”
Closing the rest of the distance between us, his lips covered mine, moving with strength and passion, heat rolling off his body. Slowly, he guided me backward, his chest pressing against my own.
Sliding my hands down his arms, I delighted in having him like this again. The world had been so messy and broken for so long, but here we were, just a man and a woman on a ship, somehow falling even more in love than we’d been at the start.
Grabbing his waist, I anchored myself to him, feeling a sense of excitement as he pushed me against the wall, his entire form against my own now. His fingers tangled in my hair, his breath quickening as he pulled away, choosing to lightly suck on a spot just above my collarbone.
Groaning, I tilted my head to the side, giving him better access. His movements made my heart race and skin flush with wanting. If the smile he gave me when he caressed my lips once more was any indication, he was very aware of that fact.
“Do ye want me, Samantha?” The question was laced with heavy seduction, purring from him with all the tease in the world. His lips fluttered over my cheek, then my neck, chuckling as I fidgeted beneath him.
“What do you think?”
His teeth grazed my earlobe, his warm breath causing my flesh to ripple. Grinning, I recalled other times that he’d teased me, and the very nice benefits said episodes had reaped.
Capturing my lips once more, his tongue tasting me, he hummed, his hand slipping under the hem of my shirt and moving to rest on my breast. He massaged it lightly, nipping my bottom lip, and then put his mouth by my ear once more.
“Tell me ye want me. Tell me all the ways and places you want me to touch ye. Tell me how to make ye mine.” The whisper was rough and highly arousing, making me feel like I might melt into a puddle right then and there.
“I’m already yours,” I replied breathlessly, holding him to me.
He nodded. “Aye, and I yours. Until the end of all time.”
Taking his time, he kissed me again, tasting and feeling my mouth, his touch gentle and loving. His hands caressed my body, bringing life back to me, filling me with everything I needed to survive.
“I’ll never get tired of this,” he mumbled against me, smiling some.
“What, sex?” I asked, laughing and pushing my fingers into his hair.
“No, ye. I’ll never get tired of ye like this, or any other way. I could spend the rest of my life in this spot, holding ye in my arms and it would be a life well lived.”
A knock sounded at the door, someone clearing their throat loudly, and I sighed, realizing our time together was at its end.
“Give me a minute,” Tristan called, still leaning against me, his eyes locked on mine.
“Your arse better be in the rigging in a minute,” Dagger’s voice said from the other side.
“Aye, Quartermaster, I’ll be there. I’m only showing my wife the surgery.”
Dagger snorted, the sound of his footsteps moving away from the front of the room. “I know exactly what ye’re doing. Two minutes O’Rourke. That’s all you’ll be getting from me.”
“How generous,” Tristan mumbled, causing me to laugh as he grinned at me. “But why rush something that should be done slowly and delicately?” He nibbled my neck once more, licking it lightly. “Pleasurable things should never be rushed if ye can help it. Don’t ye agree, lass?”
Caressing him in response, I let my hands do a little wandering of their own, giggling as he groaned. “You tell me.”
“We should rush it,” he said seriously, grabbing my wrists and holding them over my head. “Just this once, aye?”
Two minutes later, he pecked me on the cheek at the bottom of the stairs, quickly dashing up the steps and disappearing from view.
Sighing happily, I was smiling as I joined Abella in the galley. She had started reorganizing the food, something already simmering in the coals, and was chopping an onion to add to the dish. It took me a beat to realize her tears weren’t because of the vegetable in her hands.
“Let me take that,” I said quickly, grabbing the knife and onion and setting them aside.
She gave me a pitiful stare, one full of pain and annoyance, her lip trembling, and then straightened, as if refusing to allow herself to be upset any longer. “I cry when I’m angry.” Her tone was defensive and clipped and she turned to the boxes she’d stacked on the floor.
“I can see that.” I wasn’t exactly sure what I should say, or how to let her know it was okay for her to vent to me, so I remained silent, taking over the chopping I’d stolen from her.
After a few moments, she slapped her hands on the counter and gave a disgruntled sigh. “I can’t believe he spoke to me that way. I thought he would be happy to see me, after, well . . .”
“He kissed you.” The strange jealous twist gripped my stomach and I frowned. I hadn’t known they were that close, not until she threw it in his face a few minutes ago.
“Oui. More than once. I thought he truly cared about my safety, but as soon as we were discovered and I saw him staring at you, I knew it hadn’t meant as much to him.” She turned to me, her eyes watering, and laughed, shaking her head. “He only had eyes for you. It was like I wasn’t even there.”
She went to the boxes, taking the items and returning them in a more organized manner. “I thought he was realizing you will never be his. I thought he was opening up to accepting a different life.” She paused, staring at her hands. “But he only wanted me because I was close to you. It’s always been you.”
She glanced at me once more, tears still on her cheeks. “I’m not you, Samantha. How can I ever compete with the idea of the woman he loves, when she’s always standing right next to me?”
Frowning, I crossed the tiny space, wrapping my arms around her. “I didn’t have any idea you felt so strongly toward him,” I confessed. “And it breaks my heart to know that I’ve been hurting you without intending to.”
“I don’t blame you,” she said instantly. “It’s his own fault. I’ve made it very clear how I feel for him. I told him he could choose his own happiness. I never thought that he would choose to keep loving you, though, and suffer.”
“Maybe he was just worried about you,” I offered. “Sometimes anger can be hiding deeper feelings. He might have been scared when he saw you on board, concerned for your wellbeing.”
“Then why was he kind to you and mean to me?” She pulled away, shaking her head. “If that were the case, he would have spoken to you as roughly.”
“He took the lashings for you,” I reminded her.
“He had to. The captain ordered it.”
Feeling awkward, I remained silent again, not knowing how to respond. After a minute, she sighed, sounding defeated.
“He promised he would write me. Now I wonder if they were just empty words.”
“If Mark promised he would do something, then he will do it.” Staring at her seriously, I nodded. “That’s a promise you could take to the bank.” Putting my arm around her shoulder once more, I sighed as well. “I’m sorry that I’m causing so much conflict in your life, Abella. I don’t know what to say, other than it will all work out the way it’s supposed to. That’s a pretty bad piece of advice, but it’s all I’ve got.”
She laughed, wiping her face, and smiled. “It’s helpful, all the same.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Sensing it was the opportune moment to change the subject and get her mind off her own romantic woes, I stepped away and gestured to everything around us. “What are we cooking and what can I do to help? We have a lot of people to feed tonight.”
The distraction worked. Abella’s face morphed into one that was busy with the task at hand and in a few moments we were making bread and salting meat.
Life settled into an easy routine. It wasn’t lost to me how much more comfortable I was at sea, or how much happier I was with Tristan always nearby. We had taken to sleeping in the surgery, which afforded us all the privacy we needed, on a pallet we’d created ourselves. My nightmares were few and far between, and when they did arrive, they were short lived and experienced without much consequence on my end.
While some of the men didn’t seem too pleased that there were now women on the crew, they left us alone for the most part. I wasn’t sure if Tristan and Mark had said anything to them, or if it was because of the sword fighting display we’d put on during the pirate fight, but I was grateful to not always be harassed by those
around me.
Captain MacDonald interested me more and more every day. While stern, he was very kind and open to suggestions from his crew. The men—who I also discovered to be Templars—loved him and could do nothing but sing his praises. He was quiet when on his own, though, as if he were continually lost in some memory he couldn’t seem to shake. The melancholy manner of his expressions made me think that he was very sad, though, maybe even lonely, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it had anything to do with his Isobel and her death. No one on board seemed to know anything about her, other than the fact that the ship was named after her.
“It’s not strange to any of you, the fact that he cared about this woman enough to name a ship after her, but he won’t tell you anything other than she’s been dead for thirty years?”
Mark shrugged, snacking on some crunchy bread from the day before, leaning in a relaxed fashion against the counter. “Not really. It’s his business, he doesn’t have to tell any of us about her if he doesn’t want to.”
“Well, Abella and I are curious, that’s all.” Hesitating, I realized I’d mentioned the one subject Mark didn’t like to talk about—Abella. It was the same with her. She didn’t want to talk about Mark anymore and the pair avoided each other like the plague. Currently, she was in the surgery, doing who knew what, having fled after Mark approached the galley. Tristan was in the rigging, unable to come to my rescue this time, and I swallowed, trying to decide if I wanted to attempt to push the issue again.
I did.
“You should go talk to her,” I said quietly, pushing the coals in the fire around with the poker. “Her feelings are hurt. She thinks you’re using her to get to me.”
He snorted, giving me a patronizing look. “I don’t need her to get to you. Case in point, I’m with you now and she had nothing to do with it.”
“You’re being mean,” I replied, feeling somewhat angry at his flippant reply. “And you led her on. I didn’t think you were that type of guy.”
“I did no such thing!” He had the audacity to appear offended. “I kissed her, yes, but I told her I needed time to sort things out. I was very clear on the fact that I didn’t know if anything would happen between us.”
Hidden Away (The Swept Away Saga, Book Three) Page 22
