Page 69 of The Sea Witch
“I have no knowledge of this Sir Fenfield,” the quartermaster said darkly.
“A landowner,” Ben said quickly.
“What else do you know of him?” Alys demanded.
“He lives well from investments, in Bermuda, and has no truck with pirates.”
“That you areaware of.” Stasia crossed her arms over her chest.
“It’s not Sir Fenfield that interests me,” Alys interjected. “But his nephew’s cousin’s daughter’s son.”
“Whoever that is.” Luna the navigator threw up her hands.
“He had a nephew by marriage, a man called John Abernathy,” Ben mused. “Abernathy had another uncle... Samuel Wyle. And two sons. One died... Cholera, I think, but the other lives, Ralph Dunwood. He dwells on an estate located on an island off the coast of Tortola.”
“Did he have children?”
“I believe so,” Ben said slowly.
“Their names,” Alys demanded.
Ben could only shrug.
“Tell me more about Dunwood and this island he lives on. Have he and his kind dwelt on there long?”
“His grandfather came to the Caribbean around 1660. Him and his offspring, they’ve kept close to the area.”
“There’ll be a parish record, then,” Alys said.
Ben slowly rose. “To learn exactlywhohis nephew’s daughter’s son would be.” He turned to Luna. “We’ll review the charts together and I can show you which island he lives on, and the location of the town and church that would have the parish records.”
“Go, both of you,” Alys said with a jerk of her head. “To the chart room and set a course.”
“Aye, Captain,” Ben answered.
Only when she smirked at him did he realize that this was the second time tonight he’d ceded to her authority.
He quickly left her quarters, following Luna to the chart room.
Stay useful. Help her find the fail-safe.And then demolish it.
With each step, he recited his objectives like a refrain in a hymn. Reminding himself. Shutting away the memory of the kiss as if stowing it in a heavy iron lockbox. Yet the safe couldn’t contain the recollection of her mouth against his, no matter how hard he tried to imprison it.
Chapter Fifteen
Balancing always left Alys humming with more energy than she knew what to do with. Had she been on land, she would have found someone to share her bed for several enthusiastic hours, which either quieted the tumult in her blood to a low roar or, depending on who she fucked, filled her with even more vitality.
She wasn’t on land, and she always adhered to her dictum of not sleeping with her crew. Briefly, she considered touching herself for some quick help. It had been too long since her last climax and her body demanded release. Kiss or no kiss, she wasn’t about to have Ben return to her quarters while she was in mid-frig. Even if that kiss had hinted at an unpredictable—and shared—attraction.
She took lovers only for the night. Anything beyond that... She’d been married before. Alys had been obedient to men’s whims and desires and demands. She’d been forced to grind by theyoke of affection.
Already, she felt Ben’s interest in her sharpening. And while she might want his body, she couldn’t risk anything more with him. His naval coat was frayed, but he still served the King. And he was hiding something from her.
She called for a pitcher of warm water, and it was brought with a basin, cloth, and cake of honey-scented soap that had beentaken from an English merchantman. They were all luxuries, but after tramping around the island of the Weeping Princess in dense heat, being flung from a waterfall, and fleeing unknown creatures, she could use a bit of bathing.
Alys placed the basin on the little table near the foot of her berth. She poured half the ewer’s contents into the bowl. The water giggled as it filled the porcelain. Turning her back to the door, she removed the dagger from her belt, pulled off her coat, jerkin, and shirt before undoing the band of linen wrapped around her breasts.
The bindings fell away. She scratched at her red itchy flesh. Then she dipped the cloth in the water, before rubbing the cake of soap on its fabric, pulling up a lather that smelled of honey on a summer day.
