Brianna winced painfully and stared down at her fingers as she swallowed and breathed deeply. Still, her voice was barely above a whisper. “I can never tell you how sorry I am that I caused so much trouble and grief. I put not only your life in danger, but the lives of your entire crew. I brought about so many deaths.”
“You did not, Brianna. Matthews did.”
She lowered her head, wishing not to dispute him in her heart. “Sloan, twice you risked your own life for mine—”
“Damn it! It is not my life that worries me, and although I readily admit that the lives of my crew are dear to me, those men are fighters trained and ready—and quite pleased when given an excuse to wage war against the likes of Matthews. Brianna, you made me half insane with worry! What if Matthews hadn’t been there? You didn’t need a fanatical witchfinder to bring you to grief! Port Quinby is a dangerous town for a girl alone. You might well have found your way to the slave marts of the East!”
“I could never thank you adequately—even if my life were to stretch a century—for all that you have done for me! When that noose was about my neck I was certain that I would die, and never, never could I have known how precious life is until that instant. Never can I repay that!”
“Brianna!”
His voice silenced her, and she at last allowed herself to look up into his eyes, which held such turmoil that they frightened her.
“Brianna,” he repeated more quietly, “when I knew that Matthews had you I was ill. I wanted to tear him limb from limb. I swore that if he had touched you, done you harm, I would sever him into bits. Dear God, you little fool! I would battle any man for you again and again, peasant or king.”
“Sloan—”
“Hear me out! I meant what I said. I would kill for you. I would die for you. But so help me God, girl, don’t go dancing into the hands of the enemy again! Don’t think to defy me so foolishly!”
“Sloan, please, you don’t understand.”
“I am not sure that I care to,” he said violently, pushing away from the door to stalk toward her. “But then maybe I do already. Do you find a gentler man in young George? Or perhaps Lord Darton’s staid age is to your fancy?”
“George! Lord Darton?” she repeated incredulously, and then her anger rose. “You come to me now with vile accusations? Nay, I seek neither of them—as husband or lover. All I have ever sought from you is the freedom to find my own flesh and blood! How dare you, Sloan! When I was shocked and bereaved, when I despised myself for the death of poor loyal Robin, they were there, to help me, when you were not!”
“But you did not want me! How many times, mistress, have you made that abundantly clear!”
“I did long to tell you of sorrow—and gratitude.”
He turned from her, sauntering to his desk and turning about to casually take his chair. He swung his boots atop the desk and laced his fingers behind his head.
“Sloan, Matthews is dead. Now I must leave the ship.”
“Leave!” He raged suddenly. “Are you insane? As I am an outlaw, so are you! I pray that we can reach Holland in one piece.”
“But—”
“Brianna, that is the sorry state of it. Under William’s rule I can see your name cleared. But until then…Tell me, Mistress MacCardle, just what would you have me do. You must understand why I cannot set you off the ship.”
“I…”Foolish man!she wanted to scream.I would have you marry me, I would have you love and cherish me with death itself the only thing to break the bonds of God.
“Ah, yes, lass, I know. You still cannot be my mistress. It is not enough that a man is willing to lay down his life.”
He sounded bitter.
She held still, afraid to move. Still he used the wordmistress. She knew how she loved him, how she longed for him. Yes, he would fight for her, as he would fight for his ship, for his men, for the Prince of Orange and Princess Mary, to whom he had sworn his fealty.
She met his eyes and lifted her hands, encompassing the cabin. “You are the master of the ship; you are the captain, Lord Treveryan. You are His Grace, the Duke of Loghaire. The commands are yours. You spoke the order, and I reside within your cabin. The strength is yours. The power is yours. You commanded, and I was yours.”
“Brianna! I never—”
His voice was a warning, a threatening growl; his boots hit the floor and he was back on his feet.
“Stop! Please, I beg you!” She lifted her hands against him, and the sudden entreaty in her voice held him still.
“You did not ravage or rape me, Sloan, but perhaps what you do is worse, for you seduce me, when you know it is not my will to be seduced! You say that I want you, and, aye, Sloan, that is true! That I cannot pretend to deny! Just as I want to thank you for the gift of my life with my arms about you, to hold you, cherish you. But, Sloan, for God’s sake, have mercy! Oh, don’t you understand yet, you fool!”
He was staring upon her so curiously, so gently, and now she understood what emotion had been in his eyes: it was pain. He took another step toward her, so that they were almost touching again, so that she could too clearly feel the strength and heat of his muscular form, too dearly wish to reach out and touch the sinewed cords of his neck, the thick dark hair that feathered coarsely at the opening of his silk shirt.
