Page 85 of The Sea Witch
Alys stood. From the floor, she picked up the shirt she had worn during the assault on the fortress. She pointed to the blood that had left dark rusty stains across the fabric. “This didn’t belong to me. I’ve no need for anyone’s protection.”
“But you’ll need a bridegroom.” He collected their bowls and stacked them.
“The hell I will,” she shot back. “Been married once before. That’s a meal I don’t need to swallow again.”
“The best means of learning the identity of Sir Fenfield’s nephew’s cousin’s daughter’s son is to search the parish records at the church. Posing as an engaged couple will get us the information we need. We’d review the record to ensure no consanguinity prior to our marriage.”
She eyed him. “Been giving this some thought.”
“I give everything some thought.”
She straddled a chair and studied him. He held himself still under her examination. The more he pressed, the more she would resist. When the matter at hand was something he wanted very much, the best strategy was cautious neutrality.
It wouldn’t be possible to fully disguise the fact that he did, in truth, fear for her safety.
“Be pretty,” she said at last. “That’s your only role. Talking’s my task.”
“Understood,” he answered, pleased with how indifferent he sounded.
“Now we go topside, Sailing Master.”
On the upper deck, the freed women were sitting and talking, or standing at the gunwale to watch dolphins leap through the waves alongside the ship. They laughed at the sleek creatures’antics. Many of them seemed much more spirited than last night, and some even no longer needed bandages on their wounds.
More wary looks were thrown his way as he followed Alys to the quarterdeck. There, the plan on Domingo was outlined to the second-in-command, who looked with suspicion at Ben. Yet she didn’t object.
Instead, Stasia went below, and then returned a quarter of an hour later with two tiny cups of something as thick and potent as night. As she did this, Alys strode away.
To his astonishment, the quartermaster handed him one of the cups. He took a sip. It was as though someone had taken five cups of coffee and boiled it for an hour, to reduce it to a thick liquid that could fell a titan.
She stared at him pointedly.
“It’s a wonder anything else has the temerity to call itself coffee,” he answered.
She gave a solemn nod. “I can tell your fortune in the grounds when you finish.”
“My thanks. I’d rather meet my future as it comes. Any attempt to circumvent fate inevitably meets with disaster.”
She didn’t smile at Ben, but she didn’t scowl at him, either. He’d take what victories he could. This test, at least, he’d passed.
As he struggled to swallow his next sip, Alys reappeared on the quarterdeck.
Ben choked on his coffee. “Gown.”
What a prime specimen of eloquence he’d become.
Alys stared down at herself with an expression that bordered on revulsion. It was a relatively simple dress of printed calico, with ruffles on the sleeves and down the stomacher pinned to the bodice. He’d seen far more revealing and ornate gowns on many other women. Seeingthiswoman in such a garment made him stare. Particularly, he was fascinated by the freckle-dusted skin rising above the low square neckline, and the curves of hercollarbones, and the hollow of her throat, and the swell of her breasts, and the—
She cleared her throat, and he dragged his gaze back up to her face.
“Needs must,” she answered, disgusted.
“You look...”
She raised a brow.
“Careful, Sailing Master,” Stasia said under her breath. “The next few moments will determine the duration of your life.”
“Like a captain on an extremely important mission,” he finished.
