By Force (17 page)

“Tell me to stop.” His eyes were glazed and his voice was husky.

“I don’t think I can.”

His kiss deepened as he moved on top of me, pressing himself against me. I could feel he wanted me every bit as much as I wanted him. I needed him. It was as definite as needing the air I breathed. I began to undress him but he covered his hands with mine.

“You’re healing,” he said with closed eyes. “Not tonight. Soon, but not tonight. You need your rest for our journey to Faemell tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? We can’t stay. Not now. James is here and when the townsfolk discover those men’s bodies they will be asking a lot of questions and you are the most obvious ones to blame.”

“The bodies are gone. We’ll leave when you are well enough.”

“I’m well enough now,” I told him.

“Get some sleep.” This time his words were firmer. I grabbed his hand as he rose to leave He stopped, but refused to look at me.

“Stay. Please.” The words came out before I could think better of them. He had a way of doing that to me. I was glad of it because, without hesitation, he lay down, facing me, careful not to touch me with the exception of encircling my hand within his. As we looked deep into each other’s eyes, I imagined a future with him that I knew I would never have.

* * *

I opened my eyes to find Remmie breathing softly. We lay nose to nose; his breaths tickled my face. I peered down at the end of the bed and smiled at the sight of his lower legs hanging over the bottom of the bed, hovering over the floor.

“Good morning,” he said without opening his eyes.

“Morning,” I replied. I freed my hand from his grip and flexed my fingers. Surely he was unaware of how tightly he’d held it. All of my fingers tingled. “Thank you for staying with me.”

“Thank you for asking.”

“You know I barely know you. Barely know any of you.”

“What do you want to know?” His eyes were still closed and I didn’t mind. I could stare at the pale freckles on his nose and his full lips without him ever knowing.

“You’re an only child.”

He nodded, his facial hair scratching against the bed as he did.

“You were raised by your mother and by Roland.”

“Yes. He felt obliged because he was my father’s second.”

“I don’t think he did it out of obligation,” I said confidently.

“At first he did. But he stayed close to us much longer than we could ever have expected him to. He loved my mother. Loves her still. I know this. And he loves me like he would have loved his own child, if he’d ever had one. I know this too.”

“And you love him.”

He cleared his throat, unwilling to show his vulnerability. A typical man. My father and brother were very much the same. Sometimes my brother Ethan would share, but it was only with sufficient prodding, and even then he held back. I could always see it in his eyes, much like I could see Remmie holding back now.

“Is Emma is the only person at home that you are concerned for?”

He nodded.

“There’s no aunts, uncles, grandparents…women that you feel might be in danger?”

At this, he opened his eyes and smirked.

“No, no women. Would it bother you if I had a woman back home? You are yourself engaged.”

“Why should I care?” I tried to sound as if I didn’t, but neither of us was fooled.

He squirmed closer to me and placed a hand on my cheek, pulling my face toward him so that our faces were back to being nose to nose. He caressed my nose ever so slightly with his.

The pit of my stomach felt hollow and I ached to feel him pressing against me, moving inside of me. Every inch of my body burned to make him mine.

“Do you care?” he asked.

“No,” I said, indignant.

He pressed his lips against mine and gently sucked at my bottom lip. I grabbed his hair and pulled him closer, wrapping my leg around his waist when the door shook with an impatient knocking. Remmie smiled as I frowned. He groaned as he got up to open the door.

“Good morning,” Nole said in greeting. “How is Isame this morning?” He craned his neck around Remmie.

“Fine, thank you.”

Remmie turned and tapped his chest, a sign I took to mean he would deal with my letter. Then he escaped out the door.

* * *

The waterfront smelled of seaweed and rotting fish this morning. It filled the air so completely that I resolved to breathing through my mouth. I hoped this smell didn’t last for our whole voyage.

We waited impatiently for Remmie, who said he would meet us on the docks. He still hadn’t returned from passing on my letter. I was beginning to get worried as minutes turned into hours.

“What in the bloody hell is he doing?” Otis demanded as he sat on a bollard. His impatience showed as he bounced his leg up and down.

Remmie appeared moments later as he descended the steep path from the city to the jetty. He took his time, and Nole groaned in irritation. We all knew Remmie could move much faster, but he tried not to attract attention; however, the Daentarry always got noticed. They were handsome, big and burly and full of hair.

As he got closer, I noticed that Remmie looked as if he had bathed. His hair was neatly braided and fell over his shoulder, almost to his elbow. He smiled on approach.

“Where the hell were you?” Nole barked.

Remmie didn’t respond until he stood a few feet from Nole.

“The gypsy woman was in town yesterday,” he said. “We missed her. She hopped a boat to Faemell at dawn. The man I spoke with says she lives outside of Port Farsay and someone in the Broom and Grindle might be able to give us further directions.”

“Who told you this?” Nole asked quietly. “Can they be trusted?”

“A man selling potions I met in the square. I think he’s a warlock. It seems he has some issues with the gypsy named Fedora. He gave us his permission to rough her up a little.” A smile touched Remmie’s cheeks.

“No, absolutely not,” I scolded him.

“Calm down. I’m teasing.”

“This is good,” Roland said. “We know for sure she will be in Faemell.”

It struck me that the men were including me in their conversation and in their plans. It seemed to happen overnight. They treated me as if I belonged, as if I were one of them. And it felt…nice. Though I longed for my family, I had to admit that going to Faemell kind of excited me. So did spending more time with these men, especially Remmie.

As we walked along the jetty, the thick planks of wood underfoot made a rhythmic sound. Our ship,
The Angry Maiden
, swayed in the water. What a curious name. I promised myself I would find out the story behind it before we reached Faemell.

Although I grew up a short distance from the ocean I had never seen a ship up close before, and this one far exceeded my expectations. It outshone the others lined up along the jetty, both in beauty and in size. It was black-and-white in color and its sails were linen-white.

“That’s a brig ship.” Roland slowed his steps to walk beside me. “See the two large masts and the square sails?” He pointed to the towering wooden poles. I watched a man walk along on the beams and gasped.

“Don’t worry. They know that they’re doing,” he assured me.

A man in a ridiculous feathered hat crossed the brow—at least that’s what Roland told me it was called—and bowed his head to Nole, who returned the gesture.

“Good to see you again,” the man said. The man was big and tall, like the savages, but upon removing his hat, I saw his closely cropped black hair. His appropriately colored ocean-blue eyes flashed to me as he said, “And I see you are returning with a guest. My, my, isn’t she bonny?”

My cheeks started to burn.

“Isame, this is the captain, Dego. Dego, Isame.”

The stranger walked toward me and took my hand, which he kissed before bowing to me. Definitely not Daentarry.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” I told him. He stood five inches taller than Remmie.

“Same to you.”

The men’s quarters were small and cramped. My friends would room together in a space no bigger than a broom closet, with two hammocks on each side hanging one over the other.

“There is a room attached to mine that I only offer to my most special guests. That shall be your room.”

“She stays with us,” Remmie informed him.

“Remmie,” he started, “she is much safer with me, away from the crew. They are not angels and their manners are sometimes questionable. Would you like to use the room?” Dego asked me.

“Yes, thank you.”

Remmie sighed but didn’t put up more of a fight.

My room was a mansion compared to my friends’. I had a large bed, big enough to sleep two, and a beautiful antique wardrobe filled with dresses that Dego encouraged me to use. I wondered who they’d belonged to.

When I saw my reflection I almost didn’t recognize myself. I looked an absolute mess. Yes, my scars and bruises were gone and my skin was as flawless as ever, but I looked like a vagabond. My hair was thick with mud and foliage, and my skin was darker, from dirt, not the sun.

A light rapping sounded on my door.

“My dear, I have prepared you a bath. I am going up top to give you your privacy. Lock the door behind me.”

I peeked out the narrow door and, upon seeing our shared living space was empty, I crossed the room to lock the door. A large stone tub sat in the far corner of the room and steam rose from the water’s surface. A warm bath. I almost cried in delight. I’d never had a warm bath before.

In my thin, soiled sheath, I crawled into the hot water. It was warm enough to color my skin but not hot enough to scald. I fought to stay awake as I soaked—I was that relaxed. A knock at the door startled me and snapped me back to reality, ending one of the most peaceful moments I had in what seemed like months. I asked who was there but since no one responded, I lingered a little longer. When I finally forced myself to get out, I rocked with the ship.

From one of the large paneled windows at the back of the room I watched Lypsis shrink into the background. We were at sea and on our way to the fairy island.

Chapter Sixteen

I padded into my room to the wardrobe full of elaborate dresses. Many were much too revealing and flashy for my tastes, but I did find a couple that suited me just fine. I donned a pale pink empire-waisted frock with short sleeves and lace in the front. It was the prettiest dress I had ever seen. Discovering a horsehair brush, I fought the knots in my hair until I could get a brush through it without yanking it out. My snarled curls easily transformed into shiny brown waves.

I unlocked the door and waited on a chaise for the captain to return. I was nervous about roaming the ship alone, given what the captain had said earlier. The crewmates looked a tad shady and their eyes on my skin made me uncomfortable.

The captain returned with Nole and Otis. All three stopped and stared at me before they settled into red, satin-backed chairs.

The captain’s eyes looked dreamy as he smiled. “That dress has always been my favorite. You look radiant, my dear.”

“Thank you.” I had an overwhelming urge blush. “Might I ask why you keep ladies’ dresses?”

The men laughed. I hadn’t meant to be funny.

“They once belonged to a woman who sought passage across the Magdaline Ocean.” The ocean we were currently crossing to get to Faemell. “I can’t bring myself to part with them. You never know when you might find use for them.” He winked at me.

“
The Angry Maiden
?” I said eagerly, waiting for the story.

“
The Angry Maiden
,” he nodded, smiling. “The ship was originally named
The Gray Stone
. Stone is my mother’s family name and gray is the word the crew use to describe my character. Nothing is ever black-and-white with me, miss.” Another wink. He was a flirt, and it was infectious. I couldn’t help but return it.

“The name ‘Angry Maiden’ came much later.” Dego leaned forward onto his exquisitely detailed desk. Carved lines and braids of dark rope ran the lengths of the legs and its middle.

“Many years ago, a fiery-haired maiden bartered passage on my ship. Women have never been well received on ships and so I offered her the very cabin that I offered you. She was beautiful. Sweet. Charismatic. The men were enraptured by her. It wasn’t long before I started to see the change in the men. There was lots of bickering and, eventually, fighting. The chaos that ensued on this ship was colossal. All of the men, every single one, professed to love her and wanted her for themselves. I was confident the woman was a witch. She seemed to incite and revel in the upheaval. I was immune to her charms, perhaps a result of my being Daentarry. We are not as easily swayed as humans are.”

“So you’re Daentarry. But your hair? I thought you all wore your hair the same.”

“I will get to that,” he assured me. “The witch tried very hard to entice me, but I was furious with what she had done to my crew. I confronted her. Daentarry aren’t afraid of anything, least of all a human woman. No offense.”

I shrugged.

“She continued to play her game, but I wasn’t buying it and she became enraged by my refusal to love her. I decided that I needed her off my ship—fast—so in the middle of the night I crept into her room and stole her from her bed. She struggled, of course, but with her arms bound and her mouth gagged she had no means to work her magic. I stuffed her into a potato sack with some cannonballs and threw her over the side.”

I covered my mouth, attempting to hide my horror. There had to have been a kinder way.

“The sea had been calm, not a cloud in the sky for the eight days prior to her being tossed, but afterward the sky closed over with dark clouds, and the waves built up within minutes. With the woman off the ship the men quickly regained their senses and we struggled for three days to return to shore. The ship took an incredible pounding. I was sure the ocean would swallow us whole, but eventually she calmed and we were able to return to port. Once we did, the entire crew swore off women. You are the first woman on our ship since, but I think it’s time we moved on.”