Page 12 of Safe in the Earl's Arms
‘Are the seas always rough?’ she asked.
He couldn’t tell her this was calm. ‘You get used to it.’
She nodded. ‘I hope.’
Her parcel lay beside her. He took it and her gaze flicked to him.
‘The rock can’t slide around. Might break or cause one of us to fall.’ He knelt at his bunk, trying to keep from brushing against her, and well aware that she pushed herself to the other side of the small room. He tucked the arm away carefully, knowing she watched every movement. Still kneeling, he looked across at her. ‘The light needs out.’
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘In the dark, the room moves faster.’
He frowned. ‘You cannot fall asleep with the lantern lit.’
‘I am not sleeping.’
Warrington stood and undid the top fastening of his shirt, then snapped the garment over his head, putting it on the remaining peg.
He pulled open the covers and slid between them. He turned his head and she looked forward, her gaze locked on the wall.
‘Would you speak of something soothing?’ she asked.
He stared at her. ‘I’m going to sleep.’
‘Say anything. Anything to take my mind off my stomach and the treacherous waters. Talk about your home. Your mother. A dog. Anything. Please.’
‘I remember a tale of a young child eaten by wolves on a winter’s night. What of it?’
‘Nothing with food in it—please,’ she mumbled.
He studied her face. The pallor only made her lashes seem longer. He decided he didn’t need sleep as badly as he thought.
‘Ben, the captain, is my brother. This is his first sailing on a ship he is captain of—but he was born with the taste for sea life in his blood.’ He stared into the wood above his head. ‘I’ve another brother, Dane, who is looking after things at home while we’re away. And a sister, Adelphinia—named after a batty aunt, who even refuses to answer to the full name. We call my sister Adele, which she much prefers over Phinny.’ He stopped. ‘Perhaps from our telling her the horses called her when they whinnied.’ His voice softened. ‘She thinks brothers are a curse.’
He looked at Melina. If the sound of his voice eased her, then the rise and fall of her breasts eased him. The little mark on her might be a scar.
‘Keep talking,’ she said.
He gave a grunt of complaint, but continued. ‘I like Hoby boots, on firm land. I like to be able to look out my window and see oak trees. Solid trees on solid ground. I like my horse, Chesapeake, and I hated leaving him behind. I’m never getting this far from him again. He’ll probably wish to bite me or throw me when I get home.’
‘You miss...your horse?’ She slid the flannel from her cheek.
‘Ches—’ He shut his eyes. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking to leave him.’
‘There is no person you miss?
‘For—’ His voice rose, but he stopped himself. He remembered his home. He’d not wanted to speak of family. ‘I have a son. And there’s his sister. She’s younger.’
He thought of Jacob, the morning after Cassandra’s funeral. At first light, the boy had darted into War’s room and bounded upon the bed with a question or two about death, then a concern about cat’s ears.
Silence and darkness around him, he spoke again. ‘My wife died a year or more ago. I’ve not forgiven her. I’ve not forgiven her for anything.’
She didn’t speak.
He didn’t want the sombre mood surrounding him so many times to engulf him again.
He turned his head back to her. ‘Chesapeake enjoys the same journeys as I do. You can jest and call him any name you wish and he doesn’t care. Chesapeake’s a good mount. His sire and dam—he inherited the best of both. Father’s size. Mother’s grace.’ The shadows in his world jostled him, taking his mind from the horse. Even though he knew he didn’t lie, he left out so much.
She daubed the cloth at her face. ‘I already miss my sisters.’
‘Women are different.’
‘Yes. But you have your brother nearby.’
He grunted his displeasure. ‘I intended him to tell you that you could not sail with us.’
‘I know.’ She patted her cheek with the cloth and stared at him. ‘No wonder you don’t talk of missing anyone but your children. You’ve no heart.’
‘Chesapeake would disagree.’
‘A horse.’ She near snorted, and if she only knew—she’d sounded a bit like Chesapeake. He wanted to tell her, but when he saw the paleness of her face he changed his mind.
