The Sea Witch

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  "And what is that supposed to mean?" He tugged on lock of her hair.

  "You have a nasty temper, Riordan."

  "I do?" He started to grin. "I'm considered the most generous and kind-hearted of sea captains. Ask any of any crew. They'll tell you the same."

  "Then perhaps that temper only rears its head when you're around me."

  "That could be." His smile grew. "You do have a way of bringing out the passionate side of me ...in more ways than one."

  She trailed a finger through the mat of dark hair on his chest. "I'm intrigued by that ...passionate side of you."

  "Careful." He caught her finger to stop the torment. "Do you know what your touch does to me?"

  "I thought..." She looked into his eyes. "I thought once we'd finished loving, the passion would be gone."

  He chuckled, and the sound drifted over her senses like honey. "Oh, Ambrosia. The passion isn't gone. It's only spent. But a simple touch can call it back."

  "You mean you could ...we could...?"

  "Aye. But you haven't answered my question yet."

  "What question?"

  "Do you love me?"

  She waited for the space of a heartbeat before smiling. "Aye. Desperately."

  "Ah." He let out a long, slow breath. "Next time, don't make me wait so long for your answer. It's apt to stop my heart."

  She splayed her hands on his chest and could feel the thundering of his heartbeat, which mirrored her own. "There's been no damage. I can feel it. Beating quite loudly, I'm afraid."

  "You do that to me. Set my heart to pounding, my palms to sweating. Any time you get too close, I have these strange reactions."

  "How long has this been going on?"

  "Since the first time I saw you." He drew her down and pressed his lips to her temple. "In fact, it started before I met you."

  "What do you mean, Riordan? How could that be?"

  He ran a finger along her arm, loving the soft, porcelain look of her skin in the moonlight. "The more James spoke of you, the more I found myself wanting to know you. You became, in my mind, the perfect woman. You

  were the woman I dreamed of on all those long, lonely lights at sea. And when I met you, I realized you were even sweeter than the woman in my dreams."

  She shook her head, suddenly overcome with emotion.

  "What's this, love? Tears?"

  "Oh, Riordan. I don't deserve your love."

  "And I don't deserve you. Maybe nobody ever de-serves the good things that come into their lives. But for now, Ambrosia, let's just savor it." He drew her down into his arms and covered her mouth with his.

  And then, with soft sighs and whispered words, they embarked on another long, slow journey of love.

  It was that silent hour between darkness and dawn. A faint lavender mist danced across the water and swirled around the deck of the Sea Challenge.

  Ambrosia and Riordan lay curled in the blanket, their arms around each other. There had been little time for sleep. They had spent the night lost in the wonder of their newfound love.

  At times Ambrosia had seen the dark side of Riordan's passion. A darkness that excited her, even while it frightened her. But there had been an unexpectedly tender side to him as well. A tenderness that could bring a sudden lump to her throat, or a tear to her eye.

  She sighed in her sleep, then opened her eyes to find him watching her.

  "Riordan." She touched a hand to his cheek and he caught it, pressing her palm to his lips. "What are you doing?"

  "I love watching you sleep. You're so peaceful. Like a child."

  "I'm not a child." She started to sit up. "I know." He pulled her back down and brushed soft kisses over her cheek, her eyelid, the tip of her nose. "As you like to remind me, you're a woman." He pressed his mouth to her ear and growled, "My woman."

  She shivered. "I like the sound of that."

  "Good. Because you're going to hear it often." He traced the outline of her mouth with his tongue and felt the familiar rush of heat. Even after a night of loving, he wanted more. He would never have enough of this amazing woman.

  "I've told you so much about myself all night. My childhood. My adventures with James and my sisters."

  He nodded. "I loved hearing about the things you did. Yours is a ...colorful family, my love."

  They shared a laugh.

  "But you've told me nothing about yourself, Riordan. About your childhood. Your family. Your life before I met you."

  She could sense his reluctance to talk about it. "My childhood was one of wealth and privilege." He looked away, into the distance, as though going back in his mind. "My brother, Prescott, and I learned to ride and fight and sail with Charles and James."

  She caught a breath. "Charles, our king? And James, the duke of York?"

  "Aye. We were best friends."

  "And all that gossip that Silas Fenwick told Edwina was a lie?"

  For a moment he went very quiet, and Ambrosia wished she could take back the question. But it was too late. The words had been spoken.

  "My father disapproved of the life I chose. My inheritance has been given over to Prescott."

  "I don't understand. You are disinherited because you chose a life at sea?"

  "There is more to it, Ambrosia. There are things I can't share with you." He thought of the dangerous missions he'd undertaken at the behest of the king. Political intrigue. Religious zealots bent on assassination. Warmongers who hoped to draw their monarch into battles that couldn't be won. "Secrets that only the king knows. Secrets that will go to the grave with me. I can't ask you to understand. But I ask you to accept me as I am."

  She saw the remorse in his eyes, and knew that this was a man who would never betray a confidence. Even for the sake of love.

  She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her lips to his throat. "I do, Riordan Spencer. I accept you just as you are. Now..." She started to roll aside. "I'd better slip below and get dressed before the others wake up."

  "Umm." Instead of releasing her he drew her closer. "Stay just a few more minutes."

  "Riordan." She laughed as he began moving his hands up her back, along her sides. "You know what will happen if I stay."

  "You mean ...this?" He covered her mouth with his, kissing her until they were both breathless.

  "Aye." She came up for air and felt her head spinning. He was the only man who had ever made her feel this way. The only one who ever would.

  "All right. Three more minutes. Then I'll let you go." He dragged her even closer and kissed her again.

  And then, as the kiss deepened, they forgot about the time. Forgot about the secrets that could never be shared. Forgot about everything except each other. And the wonder of this love that had found them when they'd least expected it.

  Ambrosia yawned, stretched and ...froze. She had fallen back asleep. Now she could hear sounds belowdecks. The others were up and about. Where was her gown? Her chemise? "Riordan." She nudged him awake.

  He drew her down for a slow, leisurely kiss.

  "Riordan." She pressed a hand to his chest. "The others are awake. We must hurry and dress."

  "Aye, love." He smiled. And drew her back for yet another kiss.

  "They'll be topside any minute now. And my gown..."

  He reached behind her and held it up. In two pieces. Her eyes widened. "I can't wear that rag. Whatever will I do?"

  "Didn't you bring another?"

  "Aye. But it's below. And so are my sisters and my grandfather. Mistress Coffey and Winnie." Especially prim, stern Winnie, she thought with alarm. "How am I to face them?"

  "I'll draw their attention." With a chuckle he handed her the blanket. "Just don't forget to bring this back when you've finished dressing."

  "Why?"

  "I'll be in need of it." Completely unconcerned about his nakedness, he strolled toward the rail and plunged into the sea.

  Minutes later, as the others came topside to see who was splashing in the water, Ambrosia hurried belowdecks and dress
ed. When she returned to the deck, she carried the blanket over her arm.

  "Good morrow," she called as casually as she could manage. "Newt, you might want to give this to Riordan when he finishes his swim."

  "Aye." The old man gave her a steady look, and she turned away with a flush before joining the others around the brazier, where they were preparing a morning meal.

  "Good morrow, Ambrosia." Bethany studied her older sister's flushed cheeks. "Are you feeling feverish?"

  "I feel fine. Why do you ask?"

  "You look..." Winifred Mellon watched as Riordan pulled himself over the rail, draped in a blanket. For the space of a heartbeat he and Ambrosia exchanged a most intimate, knowing look. Then, dripping water, he crossed the deck and disappeared down the stairs. "You look a bit warm, Ambrosia. But then, it was a warm night. Don't you agree?"

  "Aye." Ambrosia ducked her head, missing the smiles exchanged between Bethany and Darcy.

  "I woke once through the night." Darcy poured tea. "You weren't in your hammock, Ambrosia."

  "I ...came topside for some air."

  "Ah. Air." Darcy grinned. "The night air is so much sweeter on deck, don't you think?"

  "Aye." Ambrosia saw that the others were studying her a little too carefully. Even her grandfather was staring.

  She set aside her cup and escaped to where Newton was standing at the wheel, guiding the ship. "I'll relieve you, Newt, so that you can break your fast."

  "I thank ye, lass." He swallowed back his smile. Judging by the cheerful mood of the cap'n this morn, the night had gone well for both of the lovers. Poor Ambrosia thought she was hiding her feelings from the others. What she didn't realize was that her heart was there in her eyes for all to see. And such a fine, warm, generous heart it was. He only hoped it wouldn't be broken.

  Riordan stood at the helm of the Sea Challenge and watched as Ambrosia, Bethany and Darcy climbed the

  rigging with a grace that would put dancers to shame. Watching beside him, their grandfather lifted a hand to shade the sun from his eyes.

  "You have remarkable granddaughters, Geoffrey." The old man smiled. "They can do anything a man an do aboard ship."

  "I'm sure you had a hand in their teaching."

  "Aye. It eased some of the pain when I had to give up going to sea. But it may have been a blessing in disguise. If I were still a ship's captain, I would never have had all this time to spend with them. And I'd never have had the chance to know what wonderful young women my granddaughters are." He watched as the sails billowed, and the three young women chatted and giggled while they worked high above. Then he turned and stared directly at Riordan. "I've been around sailors all my life. I know how the long nights spent aboard ship can sharpen man's appetite. I know, too, how life at sea can make a man forget the rules of civility on land."

  "Aye." Riordan tore his gaze from Ambrosia to meet the old man's look directly.

  "I'd not blame a man for losing his heart to one of my granddaughters." Geoffrey Lambert kept his tone low, reasonable. But Riordan recognized the thread of steel beneath the softly spoken words. "I'd even understand how a man might forget his common sense where one of my granddaughters was concerned. But if a man were to break the heart of one of them, I'd be as unforgiving as the shark that took old Newton's leg." Riordan nodded. "I'd expect no less." The old man's smile returned as he headed toward the shelter of the canopy across the deck, where the two old

  women sat watching the activities of the three young ones high above them.

  As the old man walked away, it occurred to Riordan that Geoffrey Lambert hadn't missed a single word he'd spoken. That slippery old man was as sharp as a barracuda's tooth.

  "A ship off the port, Riordan." Darcy's voice echoed from the rigging. "A ship with no flag."

  The others turned in alarm to Riordan, who stood at the wheel.

  "Until they're closer, and we see what we're up against, we'll do as before," he said. "Behave like a family out for a day's sail."

  "But if they're pirates, we haven't a chance without our weapons, Riordan." Ambrosia turned to her two sisters, who nodded agreement.

  "If they're pirates, we haven't a chance anyway," he said patiently. "We have no choice but to play out the charade. There's no place to hide."

  When the women went belowdecks to change, he turned to Newton. "Take the wheel, Newt."

  "Aye, Cap'n."

  The old sailor did as he was told, while Riordan went in search of weapons. Though he couldn't risk wearing a sword, he did manage to conceal a knife below the waist of his breeches, and another in his boot.

  One by one Ambrosia and her sisters returned to the deck wearing frilly gowns and bonnets. This day Ambrosia was dressed in violet, Bethany in blue and Darcy in yellow. They looked like lovely flowers in a summer garden as they helped their grandfather into his proper gentleman's coat and settled themselves around him under the canopy. Mistress Coffey prepared tea, and Miss Mellon, all in white, sat beside her.

  Riordan lifted his spyglass to his eye to watch the ship's progress as it bore closer. It seemed to be a fairly new craft, larger than the Undaunted. Twice the size of the Sea Challenge. And from the number of sailors moving about the deck, they would be outnumbered by nearly ten to one.

  As they drew close enough to make out the figures on deck, Riordan felt his blood turn to ice.

  Seeing his sudden reaction, Ambrosia hurried to his side. "What is it, Riordan? What do you see?"

  His tone was angrier than she'd ever heard. There was a note of such fury, it frightened her. "The face of someone I see nightly in my sleep. The face of the man who killed your father and brother. The pirate, Eli Sledge."

  For the space of several minutes no one moved. Finally Riordan began barking commands. "We can't outrun them. And we're badly outnumbered. But you and your family might have a chance to escape in the skiff." When he turned toward the afterdeck, it was Geoffrey Lambert who stopped him. "Nay, Captain. We'll not run and leave you and Newton to face these scoundrels alone. We stand or fall together." He turned to his granddaughter. "Ambrosia, take Mistress Coffey and Miss Mellon belowdecks and fetch our weapons."

  "Aye, Grandpapa." But when Ambrosia turned to the old women, they stood their ground.

  "We'll not hide in our cabin below, while our family is facing danger." The housekeeper straightened her shoulders. "We've come this far together. We'll see it through."

  Beside her, Winifred Mellon, looking absolutely terrified, nodded in agreement.

  Ambrosia turned to her grandfather. "Aye," he muttered. "Stay then. Ambrosia, fetch our weapons."

  She hurried belowdecks and returned carrying an armload of swords, knives and pistols.

  "Quickly now," the old man said. "Take up your weapons and your positions."

  Riordan was shaking his head. "This is madness." But even as he shouted the words, he realized the futility of his argument.

  Like a well-trained militia, each of the Lambert sisters took a different location at the rail of the ship, with their grandfather in the middle. The two old women were given ammunition for the dueling pistols, and positioned between the others.

  "All right," Riordan called. "Before we fight, we'll try to evade. Stand steady. And be prepared to be thrown about."

  As the pirate ship pulled alongside, the men on board saw the three women in their finery, holding aloft their weapons, and threw back their heads in laughter.

  "Ahoy," came a man's raspy voice from the larger ship. "This is Captain Eli Sledge of the pirate ship the Skull." He grinned, knowing such words always threw fear into the hearts of those who heard them. "Throw down your weapons, or prepare to die."

  In reply, Riordan signaled to Newton, who turned the wheel sharply, sending the Sea Challenge ramming into the side of the Skull. Because they'd been given prior warning, those aboard the Sea Challenge remained upright, clinging to the rail. The men aboard the Skull weren't so fortunate. The unexpected collision sent sailors tumbling about the deck. Those
closest to the rail were tossed overboard, where they floundered about in the waves churned up by the two craft.

  Riordan grabbed the wheel and shouted to Newton, "Hoist the topsail. We need all the wind we can find now."

  "Aye, Cap'n." The old man scrambled up the rigging, hauling the sail to the highest point, where it caught a breeze and began to turn the Sea Challenge away from its enemy.

  "Lower your sails," came an order from the Skull. "Or we'll destroy your ship."

  Riordan held the wheel steady, hoping to catch enough breeze to put some distance between the two craft. But as the smaller ship turned, there was the smell of gunpowder and the terrible roar of cannon. The Sea Challenge shuddered as she took a hit from close range.

  Newton raced to his side, and the two men struggled to hold the ship on course. But the damage was too great. The Sea Challenge was listing so badly that, if she weren't hauled to shore quickly, she would sink. "They're coming, Riordan," Ambrosia shouted. The Skull moved closer. As soon as the two ships were side by side, the pirates began tossing their lines and landing on the deck of the Sea Challenge.

  "Look, Eli," one of the pirates called. "Females, waiting to greet us with kisses, I'll wager."

  That was followed by a roar of laughter. But as Ambrosia engaged first one, and then another pirate, and relieved them of their swords, the laughter turned to grunts of surprise and pain.

  "Here's a comely wench," one of the pirates called as he pointed the tip of his sword at Bethany's chest.

  Instead of the weeping and wailing he'd anticipated, she merely lifted her hand from behind her skirt to reveal a dueling pistol. Taking careful aim, she fired and watched as he fell to the deck with a look of utter astonishment. Then she turned to the two old women, who calmly handed her more gunpowder.

  "And who's this pretty little thing?" another pirate jeered as he challenged Darcy.

  Without a word she lifted her hand and tossed a small, deadly knife. It landed with a thud in the man's chest. As he fell to the deck, she pulled the knife away and stepped over him. Seeing her grandfather holding several swordsmen at bay, she joined him, hoping to even the odds.