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“And after you make the necessary repairs…what then?”
“Then we head north up the coast to Banshira’s Cave.”
“And the sorcerer you mentioned lives in this cave, right?’
“Yes. Grimora is a wizard or dark witch. The cave is named after the monster who supposedly inhabits it. Among other things, I’m going to convince him to take a look at you. The sorcerer, that is, not the monster. Unless you keep pissing me off.”
Brandon glanced up at me, and I could see his eyes flash. He had that little crease between them on his forehead that he used to get when he was stressed about things, though, and I didn’t like to see it for some reason.
“Whatever it is you’re thinking, just stop. You’re probably working yourself up for nothing.”
“Easy for you to say.”
I stopped shoveling food in my mouth long enough to glance up at him again. “It’s not easy for me. I’m concerned enough to detour to Banshira’s Cave to have Grimora take a look at you.”
“Why, though?”
I shrugged. “Safeguarding my investment, of course,” I said. At his sour look, I quickly rushed on. Things had been pleasant that morning so far. I didn’t have the strength for yet another argument.
“Besides,” I said, “Harrison should have done something about this weeks ago. He’s the one who sent you to that fucking castle in Crillia in the first place.”
“He did send me to healers, and they said there wasn’t much more they could do. They said time would take care of the rest.” He glanced up at me then, and the bleak look on his face choked the life out of any sarcastic remarks I’d been about to say.
“Bullshit,” I replied, with some force. Okay, I couldn’t resist. His mouth fell open in surprise, as he laughed softly and shook his head.
“I’d forgotten how sure you are of everything. I wish I had that same confidence.”
“Stick with me then.”
I gave him a long look over the piece of bread I was jamming in my mouth, and he flushed and dropped his head, though I hadn’t meant anything by the words. Well, not much anyway.
I cleared my throat to stall for time and sat back in my chair, rubbing my belly. “That hit the spot.”
“You couldn’t have tasted much from the way you were stuffing that food in your mouth.”
“I’m a man of voracious appetites,” I said, leering at him a little. “I’ll show you soon.”
He shook his head, blushing a little, which was a big improvement over the way he would have responded only a day before. He was getting used to me again, though I’d meant every word. I had big plans for Brandon, the Earl of Bedford, and I looked forward to sharing them with him, as soon as I had him healed up.
We passed the rest of the time, quietly eating. It wasn’t just like old times—far from it—but it was better than those first couple of days after I’d taken him off the other ship, and I was grateful for that at least.
By the time we’d finished breakfast, I was ready to go ashore. I told Brandon to get dressed and nodded toward the sea chest I’d brought in with me the night before. I’d discovered that not everyone had followed my orders to salvage nothing from the ship I’d found Brandon on. Luckily, one or two had found sea chests on board that they took with them, hoping for valuables inside.
One such trunk had belonged to the other passenger on board, and my first mate, the greedy bastard, had taken it with him and stowed it below. There had been little in the way of anything he could resell, and no jewelry or hidden pouches of gold, but he’d had a pair of good boots inside along with a nice leather coat that I admired for myself, but would grudgingly give to my captive, and a few quality shirts that would fit my captive. I made Jacobs hand it over.
The clothes and coat came in handy now, as Brandon rummaged through the chest and made use of what was inside. I think it went against everything he believed in to profit from our ill-gotten gain, but the man had to have something to wear. Not for me, because I preferred him naked, but to save the lives of every other man on board who might have looked twice at him. He was far too good looking with his pretty, caramel curls tipped with gold and those pouty lips. Not to mention that slim, but shapely ass. We’d been at sea a long time.
When he was dressed, he followed me top side and stood by the rail as I got ready to go to shore. Some of the men had already begun swimming to shore. It wasn’t a great distance, but I required a boat for Brandon, so I waited until it had been lowered and then showed him how to climb down the boarding nets along the side to get down to the boat. Once he was aboard, I swung down beside him and directed some of the men to row us to shore.
The shoreline was wild and beautiful here, if you could successfully navigate the rocks. Luckily, it was low tide, so we had little trouble making our landing. I spent some time after we landed organizing hunting parties and watched as some of the men began gathering buckets and jugs from the boats to go find fresh water. I’d been here on this beach a few times, so I pointed them in the right direction and then took Brandon’s arm to direct him to a small pool of fresh water I knew about, not far away. We both needed a bath, and this would be a perfect place for it, not to mention a chance to get Brandon alone. I took his arm, noting that he was a bit unsteady on his feet. He’d need to get used to being on shore again, but it wouldn’t take long, and besides, I wanted to hold onto him in case he got some idea about escaping. I slipped my arm around his waist and pulled him in close. I didn’t relish the idea that he might get a wild hair and decide to run off and try to find Lexington’s castle, which was miles and miles away, in the first place. And in the second place, I’d never allow him to go. I’d hunt him down, now that I had him again, even if I had to storm the castle all by myself.
The pool was thermal and warm from volcanic activity in the area. It was one I’d found years ago, and as I recalled, it was quite secluded. We headed in that direction—with Brandon bitching every step of the way about the sand, and the bugs, and the dense underbrush, and you-name-it until I was ready to stuff something in his mouth to shut him up.
And I had just the thing.
Finally, I found a little trail made by animals in the area, and we broke through the trees and underbrush to the sparkling, blue pool, fed by a small, conveniently picturesque waterfall. It looked like something out of some oil painting by a great master, and I couldn’t wait to dive in and feel the soft water on my skin.
I stripped right away and lowered myself in the water, holding out a hand to him. He shook his head, backing away a few steps. “There might be snakes in that water.”
