The Far Horizon

by Marsha Canham

  "You could have wakened me."

  "Had I wakened you, neither of us would have slept."

  To cover a small flush, Bella stood and turned her back to Dante. Dawn was in full bloom, the sky painted with swaths of pink and gold and palest blue where it touched the water's edge. There was a spyglass on the ledge and she picked up, drawing it out to its full length. She closed one eye as the duke had instructed, and peered into the tube with the other, but even though she moved the glass slowly from one end of the horizon—startling herself briefly as it passed across one of the wooden window slats—there was nothing to be seen but ocean.

  She lowered the glass and when she looked behind her, Dante was leaning on the side of the desk, his arms crossed over his chest.

  "I did not thank you properly for helping Digger."

  "I am not entirely useless, Captain."

  "I never said… nor did I ever think that you were. But it takes a certain measure of strength to put a needle through living flesh."

  "I am not unfamiliar with the need. I had occasion to sew up many a cut and scrape on Gutter Lane."

  "Ah yes, a misspent youth."

  She avoided the tiger eyes and chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip.

  "I don't mean to pry," she began.

  "Then don't."

  She sighed and set the spyglass back down on the ledge of the gallery windows. "I was merely curious to know: Do you often bring women home with you from London?"

  "Me?" His eyebrows shot up at the unexpected turn in the conversation. "No. Never. Oft-times a member of the crew will take a wife or find a… a willing companion… and present an appeal to bring her home to the islands. But for myself, no."

  "Will your family not think it odd then, that you have brought me home with you?"

  "I have not exactly brought you home. I have merely provided passage from one point to another. When they are made aware of the circumstances that caused you to be on board, I'm certain they will think it was a wise, if not damned well gallant decision on my part to carry you away from England. Curse me if they won't think a little of my brother has begun to rub off on me. He is far more likely to be thought of as chivalrous."

  "I have heard tales of you and your brother. The Hell Twins you are called, are you not?"

  "With a Spanish prize in our gun sights, aye."

  "You sank the galleon last night. There was no effort made to salvage her?"

  "She was beyond salvaging."

  Bella traced a fingertip along a line of carving on the desk top. "What did the Dutch captain mean, then, when he said he could see why you would want to keep the prize to yourself? Was there treasure on board?"

  Dante almost smiled at the mercenary little minx. "There was no treasure. As it happens, the prize he was referring to was you."

  Bella's finger halted and she glanced up. "Me?"

  "Indeed. He was quite taken by your beauty and offered to carry you back to Algiers with him."

  "Algiers?"

  "Aye. And I will confess, for a moment there, I was tempted. It would have brought me four weeks of peace and saved you the tedium of sailing back and forth across the ocean."

  "Pray, what stopped you from accepting his generous offer?"

  Dante smiled. "I did not think you would enjoy becoming the eighth wife in his harem."

  She arched one delicate eyebrow. "He has seven wives?"

  "I have heard the Turkish laws allow for a hundred if a man can please them all."

  She looked down and traced another carved scroll. Dante replenished his wine then took up a second goblet and filled it for Bella.

  "Have you given any thought to where you do, eventually, want to go?"

  She accepted the wine and held the cup in both hands. "As you so candidly pointed out, there is nothing left for me in London. Dimcock will have sent his spies searching everywhere, even as far as Truro so I doubt that would be any safer." She took a sip, leaving a blood-red droplet clinging to her lower lip.

  Dante's gaze lingered on the droplet. "My father never speaks much about his former life in the French court, and we have all grown up knowing better than to ask too many questions. But he has a younger brother, Andre Dante, who assumed the title of Compte de Tourville after Father abdicated and left France to fight for England. My mother made contact some years ago through someone who had purchased one of her charts. As far as I know, they have kept in touch, and I warrant Andre might be amenable to introducing you to Parisian society. Assuming, of course, your very nimble fingers lose their lust for lifting cravat pins and bracelets."

  "I had hoped, once already, to put that part of my life behind me. I have no desire to revive it again."

  "Nor will you have any need to do so, for you will not be returning a pauper. I will see to it that you have enough gold and jewels in your pockets to dazzle every handsome lout in the whole of France."

  "So… you do intend to send me back?"

  The amber eyes narrowed. "Have I not already said I would?"

  Bella glanced at the folio on his desk filled with pictures of her naked body lying in seductive, sensual ways. It was not that many hours ago he had her pinned up against the wall, his big body quaking, his breath panting against her throat.

  "Men sometimes get strange thoughts and as much as one might think it the… the chivalrous thing to do to make an offer of marriage, I can assure you, sir, I want no part of it. Not now. Not ever! One husband I have had and one is all I shall ever want or need."

  Dante's jaw sagged open. For a full count of ten he was completely speechless. "An offer of marriage? The thought could not have been further from my mind, whether it was deemed chivalrous or not! Never! Not ever! God's balls, woman, what put such a foolish notion into your head?"

  "Not so foolish." Her temper crackled to life, irritated by the infuriating arrogance of the man. "It has occurred to me, if not to you, that when we reach your wretched little island, I will be privy to its location. I will have seen inside the famous Wolf's Lair. Will there not be some concern over what I might say or do once I am away from there?"

  "Not if you give me your word you will forget what you see."

  "The word of a thief?"

  "Have you not heard, there is a code of honor among us thieves. And besides, what could you say? Do you know where you are now? Will you know four weeks from now? There are as many islands in the Caribbee as there are stars in the sky. Even I have had occasion to get lost amongst them. By God, had I known that was where all this fanciful thinking was taking you, I would most assuredly have sent you off with Janszoon!"

  He finished his wine and set the goblet aside with an irritated bang. He drew his chair up to the desk, sat, and started to untie the leather thongs binding the captured log books.

  Bella studied his profile, noting the stubborn set to his jaw. Of course it had been a foolish notion that a man like Jonas Dante would even grasp the concept of doing the noble thing. And yet it was good to know, to hear the words spoken aloud that he would honor his promise to send her wherever she wished to go.

  He lit a lamp and started thumbing through the pages of the logbook.

  "You look dreadful," she said. "You should try to get some sleep."

  "You're right, I should."

  "I can leave, if you like. Molly will be awake, and Young Pitt found another book I can—"

  "You don't have to leave. Furthermore, now that we each know where the other stands with respect to any future misunderstandings, you are welcome to stay here, stay in my bed for the duration of the voyage." He turned and looked up at her. "Unless, of course, my barbaric appetites offend you."

  They held each other's gaze for a long, dragging moment. She knew what he was offering and what her role would be if she accepted. She looked away, looked around the cabin at the remnants of dried, crusted food still on the table, a spill of black powder on the floor, the heavy, practical masculinity of the furniture.

  Not all that long ago the thought of sharing
Dante's bed for the next four weeks might have horrified her. But if it meant protection for her and Molly, if it meant returning to France—or wherever—a rich woman… she could justify the arrangement. She could even admit it hadn't been too terribly dreadful so far. Perhaps if she had been a shy, helpless virgin she would have been shocked senseless by Dante's robust appetites. But she hadn't been a virgin for a very long time, and the last person who had thought her helpless still carried the imprint of her shoe in his crotch.

  If she chose to accept his terms, then for the next four weeks her choice would be to enjoy every wild, dangerous, exciting moment that presented itself. She would come to his bed every night and she would look to the horizon every morning wondering what each new day held in store. She had survived her first battle at sea. She had put her hands into living, bleeding flesh and helped sew it back together.

  What he was offering now was a chance to experience life in true piratical fashion, by taking her pleasure without shame or guilt or remorse.

  She could feel Dante's eyes on her, watching, waiting. Having made her decision, she tipped her head slightly and smiled at him.

  "I accept your offer."

  "Freely?"

  "Without a single thread of attachment."

  Dante grunted softly... and somewhat warily... then reached over to take the wine goblet out of her hand. He hooked two fingers into her shirt where the torn halves crossed and drew her forward until she was standing between his knees.

  "You smell of smoke and sweat," she murmured, wrinkling up her nose.

  His gaze fell to a smudge of grime on her chin. "You are not exactly a rose, madam."

  He curled a hand into her hair and drew her down into a kiss. His mouth was a bold and breathtaking distraction while his hands untied the knot in her shirt and pushed it off her shoulders.

  Bella leaned closer as his lips laid a trail down her neck and captured her breast. He suckled her nipple until her knees threatened to buckle and when the peak was as hard and tight as he could get it, he traced his tongue to her other breast and worked it until she cried out and clawed her fingers into his upper arms.

  Scooping her up, he carried her to the berth. He stripped off her boots and her breeches, then tore at his own clothing until it was scattered across the floor.

  When he joined her on the berth, there was no pretence at modesty, no need to deny what they both so urgently wanted. Bella was suddenly, achingly full of him. His flesh was inside her, stretching her, filling her, and she clutched at his shoulders, shuddering through the first hot rush of pleasure almost before he had completed the first stroke.

  Her hands slid down, frantically pulling at his hips with each powerful thrust, echoing his gasps as she responded to the fierce rhythm his body demanded. Her nails dug into his flanks and she pressed her head into the bedding. Her body stiffened and strained into his with shock, with pleasure and she made a throaty sound, a primitive, keening sound as she crested in a bright, shattering fury.

  PART TWO

  PIGEON CAY

  May 3, 1619

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jonas Dante woke with a start. The cabin was dark aside from the ambient light that came in through the gallery windows. He slid a hand across the bedding and when he did not encounter a soft body curled beside him, he lifted his head and looked around the cabin. He had become accustomed, over the past weeks, to waking with a mouthful of silky hair tangled in the stubble of his beard, or an arm thrown across his chest, a leg twined with his. Waking alone and unfettered by locks or limb had never troubled him before, why should it now?

  Truth be told, the days had passed quickly and without further incident aside from a minor storm that did no damage other than to force them to alter their speed and course. All things considered, they had made good time on the crossing. Their supplies of meat and water had held, and while both were heavily rationed, the crew had voted not to stop before they reached Pigeon Cay, taking the decision out of Dante's hands.

  He pushed aside the blanket and swung his legs over the side of the berth. He dressed quickly in a white shirt and black breeches and walked barefoot along the blackness of the corridor and up through the hatchway. The air was cooler on deck, the night wind scented with the familiar sweetness of spices and citrus, smells that meant they were close to home. Days were warmer, the sun hotter, the sea clear enough to see the schools of fish and dolphins that danced and jumped in their wake.

  On this night, there was no moon and not a cloud in sight to disrupt the sweeping vista of stars overhead. The sea was calm. The surface so smooth it reflected the heavens like a mirror so that it seemed as if the ship sailed suspended in a sea of starlight. Only the twin curls of faintly luminous spindrift spreading out behind them distinguished the ocean from the night sky.

  He found her standing by the rail.

  Bella was wrapped in a thin woolen cloak; her long hair flowed loose around her shoulders. She gave no indication of hearing him approach, but when he was within arms length, she tipped her head up to the sky and drew a deep breath.

  "I can see why you hold England in such disdain. I think I have never smelled such sweet air, nor seen so many stars," she said. "I was not aware there were so many to be seen." Her hand emerged from under the cloak and she drew an imaginary line across the sky. "That great white swath that seems to spin from one horizon to the other…what is it called?"

  "Via lactea, the road of milk."

  "And you are able to navigate by finding one star to guide you out of so many?"

  "When we reach Pigeon Cay and you see my mother's chart room you will understand how important the art and skill of navigation is to her. And through harsh lessons accompanied by much boxing of the ears, it became important to us."

  She tucked her arm back under the cloak. "How close to your island are we? How many more days of sailing?"

  "Two, if the winds continue to favor us. By my logs, and despite a full cargo in the holds, one of our fastest crossings… if not the fastest since we began making these voyages in Gloriana's reign. My brother will be pissing vinegar, my sister will laud me for bringing her husband home to her in time for the birthing. Unless, of course, she has had the babe already, in which case she will no longer be waddling like a fat goose; she will be in fine form again and run me through with her sword."

  His mild attempt at humor failed. Bella only drew the cloak tighter around her shoulders and tucked her chin into the folds.

  "I am aware the duke is anxious to get home to his wife. I am also aware that you are anxious to get home to warn your family of a possible attack by the Spanish."

  Dante frowned. "How did you—"

  "I was awake when Varian told you, remember, that first night on board the ship. When he reported the conversation he had with the ambassador."

  "Yet you've not mentioned it before now."

  "Nor have you." She turned and looked at him. "Not in front of me, anyway. Nor did you have any reason to do so. But there were some nights when your brow was furrowed so deep one could have hidden a stick of charcoal in the creases. I could easily guess what was on your mind causing you so much trouble. Other times you could not sleep, even after… well… after. I could hear your heart beating faster, then slower, then faster again as thoughts ran through your head."

  "It would not have made my thoughts any clearer to share them, or to burden you with them unnecessarily."

  "Sometimes a shared burden… is not so heavy."

  "Perhaps I thought you had enough on your mind worrying about Digger."

  She had begun to spend a good deal of time with the ship's surgeon. The old cudgel's wounds were not healing as well as they had all hoped. He had gone through bouts of fever and days of seeing ghosts. His foot was still attached but it was blue and black and there were spidery red veins creeping upward from the calf to the knee. When he was sober, he had taken to dictating notes to Bella about his tinctures and unguents, telling her how to mix and prepare the i
ngredients. He was adamant about keeping his foot, but he was wasting away more and more each day.

  "Perhaps you just feel you have to do everything yourself, carry every burden yourself because you are the king, the dictator, the absolute ruler on board this ship and God himself should faint if you ever let on that the burden was too great at times."

  "Bella—"

  "Please. Do not pat me on the head and appease me like you would a child. I deserve better than that."

  "Then don't act like a child. If I choose not to share things with you, it's because they do not concern you. You've made it quite clear that you have no intention of remaining in the Caribbee a moment longer than is absolutely necessary, so why would you care a wit about my burdens regarding this ship or crew… or anything else for that matter?"

  Bella smiled tightly and felt a flush of anger rise in her cheeks. "By the same token, you have made it quite clear you'll have me off the ship and on my way to New Providence without a backward glance, so yes, why indeed should I give a rat's arse-hair?"

  Without giving him the chance to respond, she walked quickly away, her cloak belling out behind her. Dante stared after her for a long, befuddled moment before slamming a hand down on the rail and turning his gaze out to sea again.

  ~~

  Bella paused with her hand on the serpentine latch to the captain's cabin, but on a second thought, turned and went to the cabin she had shared in early days with Molly. She made more noise than intended closing the door behind her and Molly woke with a start, nearly banging her head on the bulkhead as she turned too quickly.

  "Oh… Molly, I am sorry, forgive me. I did not mean to startle you."

  Molly glanced at the night candle. "Is something wrong? Is it Digger? Has he taken a bad turn again?"

  "He doesn't care. He just doesn't seem to care. He's a single-minded, blockheaded dolt."

  "Digger?"

  "No, of course not. Well, yes, him too. And no, he is fine, or at least as fine as he was a few hours ago. I was referring to the arrogant and always exasperating Captain Dante."