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‘A fine chestnut. You’d never get him willingly on a ship.’
‘So he’s exypnos—clever.’
‘Very.’
‘How did you come to be on the vessel?’ she asked, holding the comfits and flannel in one hand.
‘My brother convinced me to invest in something he could captain. We both own half.’ Warrington let himself settle into a more comfortable place. She needed to snuff the light so he could rest. ‘Ben can make having fleas sound like a lark.’
‘Should I expect fleas on this journey, as well?’
‘Not unless you get too close to the men.’
He saw her lashes sweep up as she checked to see if he jested. Let her guess. ‘You’ll have to put out the light,’ he reminded. ‘We’ve had one fire too many already.’
‘In a moment.’
Her head was against the wall. Graciously long neck. A delicious amount of skin creamy beneath it.
‘What is that mark at your breast?’ he asked.
Without looking, she reached to the colouration, running a fingertip along the skin, tracing the outline.
His gaze locked on her fingers.
‘I was born with a smudge and it seems smaller than it used to. My sisters have the mark, too, but none of ours is in the same place or shape. I think of it as an hourglass—to remind me to be useful because there is only so much time.’
‘Reminds me of...’ he paused and looked again ‘...two horses’ hooves close together.’
Again, she moved her fingers briefly to the mark and then stood, using both hands to brace herself against the table. She edged herself around the furniture and then doused the light, putting them in darkness.
‘How did you pry yourself from Chesapeake to get on a ship?’ she said, her fumbling movements leading her to the chair.
‘I hoped to see different sights and learn about the Turks, but mostly I’ve seen water not fit to drink, heard jests not worth repeating and eaten food with no appeal at all. I think this ship has no rats because they starved.’
He heard the slop bucket slide as the ship moved and pushed himself from the bed. ‘I’ll empty the pot for you—otherwise one of us might put a foot in it before morning.’ And he didn’t intend to sleep with the smell.
Not having illumination didn’t concern him. The walls were so close he could feel his way for what he needed. He slipped out through the door, his feet bare, and walked to the side, tossing the contents downwind. When he returned, he opened the small door to slip the pail back inside the cabinet.
‘I would like to keep that nearby,’ she murmured, stopping him.
He put it on the floor at her feet, and he saw the shadow of her pulling the bucket close so she could hook it again between her shoes.
‘Take the bed,’ he instructed, standing above her. He would have to pull together something so he’d have a place to sleep.
‘No,’ she insisted, moving her head. ‘I’m best here.’
‘Wake me if you change your mind.’ He reached to the bunk, took the pillow and then pushed it her direction. ‘At least put this behind your head.’
After she held the pillow, he took his shirt, rolled it and tucked it in the berth.
He slid back into the sleeping space. ‘My brother needs to get sailing out of his veins, return home and start a life there.’
‘You can’t fault him. The boat is his Chesapeake.’
‘Well, he’ll have to convince me we’ll find gold, silver and mountains of apple tarts to get me on board again.’
He could hear her silence. It wasn’t only that she was quiet—she was immobile. Not moving. Then she spoke. ‘Treasures convince people to risk much.’
Chapter Four
Warrington stepped out of the cabin. He’d not fallen asleep until dawn and the climbing temperatures of midday had awakened him. The sailors cleaned the deck, a daily job. They couldn’t risk growth of the green muck that flourished at sea emerging where men might slip.
Ben walked to his brother’s side, looking every bit a man without a care—even with clouds bundling above them. Air filling with steam. The sea too calm.
The unconcern in the men around him didn’t give Warrington a feeling of ease. He knew the men all too well. They didn’t fluster over a storm. They knew they’d either live or die through it and, either way, they’d still be at sea.
