Claire Delacroix (105 page)

The cabin they were given was so small that Ibernia doubted she truly could evade Rowan in such a cramped space. She nibbled her lip and studied the narrow bed mounted to the wall, the floor betwixt door and bed little wider than the pallet itself. Below and above the bed were bundles of goods lashed tightly—indeed, even the ceiling hung with more bundles!—and they were counselled not to so much as touch the goods.

“An inventory will be made before you disembark,” the solemn officer informed them, his words stilted. “And any deficiencies deducted from your deposit.”

“Of course,” Rowan said softly as he dropped his single saddlebag to the floor. There was no real question in his tone, as if he knew the answer already. “Yet are we not to be witness to the initial inventory?”

The man smiled then disappeared into the shadows behind them, no answer evidently necessary.

Rowan muttered a curse directed at Venetians everywhere, then dispatched Thomas to check upon the steeds. “I shall be close behind you,” he advised, then turned such an intent glance upon Ibernia that she shivered.

“There is a matter we must discuss,” he declared.

Ibernia put the width of the room between them, feeling the cabin was already too crowded with only his saddlebag and herself over the threshold.

But to her dismay, Rowan stepped fully into the chamber and closed the thin wooden door behind himself. He visibly took note of the lock, then glanced over the goods once more. Ibernia knew they had been enclosed with the finer
goods, thus the lock upon the door. Indeed, she could smell the spice.

Any loss here could cost Rowan dearly, and she assumed he wished to preserve whatever coin he had left.

“I will touch naught,” she insisted, believing her compliance was what he wished to ensure.

“ ’Tis not that I would discuss,” he said surprisingly, his bright gaze fixing upon her. He took a step closer and smiled, Ibernia’s heart leapt at his proximity. She stepped back and found the wall immediately behind her.

Rowan halted and frowned. “I will not hurt you.”

“So you say!”

His expression hardened. “So
I pledge.
You have naught to fear from me, though as much may not be said of our travelling companions.”

A footstep echoed overhead, the men called and the ship creaked. Rowan came close and dropped his voice. Indeed, Ibernia could barely hear his words over the clamor of her heart, his intense manner doing naught to ease her concern.

“I would suggest you remain within this room and unlock the portal only to me,” he said.

“I will not be locked away like a chest of spice.”

“You will not wander the decks in garb so revealing.” Rowan propped his hands on his hips. “Ibernia, we voyage with men, none of whom have pledged gallantry of any kind, to you or likely any other women. ’Twould not be wise to offer temptation.”

As much as she hated to admit it, his counsel made good sense. And her feminine pride was flattered that he considered her tempting, though she would have died rather than admit it.

Because she remembered all too well the price such temptation could bear.

Ibernia heaved a sigh and surveyed the confines of the cabin. “I shall go mad in this space.”

Rowan smiled crookedly. “Then you shall have to persuade me to accompany you onto the decks,” he said, and leaned incrementally closer. Ibernia caught her breath as he stared directly into her eyes. His were twinkling merrilly, like amber struck by sunlight, making it impossible to fear his intent.

“A mere kiss would render me your slave,” he declared, though his manner was so teasing that Ibernia knew he lied.

“You!” she declared, and made to strike his shoulder.

Rowan danced out of range and laughed outright, his merriment even coaxing Ibernia’s smile. Then he sobered. “I ask only that you remain.”

Ibernia was not inclined to agree so readily as that, simply because this man would read too much into such compliance. “And if I disagree?”

“Then I shall have to remain with you,” he said easily. “For truly, you are beneath my care, at least until you win your freedom.” Rowan pursed his lips and studied the cabin, his gaze lingering on the bed before he met Ibernia’s gaze once more. There was a wicked glint of mischief in his eyes. “Though indeed, I wonder what we might
do
to pass the hours, the days, and the nights.”

“You will never seduce me.”

“Ah, Ibernia, I have yet to truly
try
!” Rowan winked. Ibernia swung her hand to swat him and prompted only his laughter as he ducked out the door.

To be sure, once she had shut the door and that insufferable man could no longer see her response, she smiled herself.

Now that she was alone, Ibernia allowed herself to marvel at her own certainty that Rowan could be trusted to keep his word. Indeed, he had shown her naught but good treatment
in the short time they had been together, and she dared to expect only more of the same.

Optimism, her mother always said, was a healthy trait for a woman of merit. Nay, Rowan would not hurt her and he would not force her—he would only try to persuade her.

And none but Ibernia knew how futile those efforts were doomed to be. That made her smile broaden.

Only for it to fade shortly thereafter to naught. Even a merchant’s daughter as knowledgeable about the ways of the world as Ibernia could err, for err she had. No sooner had the
Angelica
taken to the seas than the horrible truth became clear.

’Twas then that the ship’s cargo moaned.

owan was not in a good mood.

Already this day he had bought a slave he did not want; he had committed to keeping that slave he did not want; he had boarded a ship in much quicker succession than he might have preferred. Further, the ship was not one he would have chosen of his own volition, regardless of its destination.

For Rowan did not like this ship’s captain, this Baldassare di Vilonte. There was something untrustworthy about the man, something that made Rowan less than pleased to have his own future in this particular man’s care.

’Twas certainly not because Ibernia smiled for Baldassare when she refused to smile for
him.
That would have made no sense at all. Nay, Rowan de Montvieux cared naught for Ibernia, naught for any woman in particular beyond a desire to make them laugh.

Only Ibernia’s refusal to laugh at his jests rankled, and that because it was contrary to the response of all women Rowan had ever known. Aye, and her apparent preference for a Venetian sea captain over his own copious charms.

’Twas unnatural.

And so, he led Troubador into the hold in markedly poor temper, what greeted them there doing naught to improve his mood. Rowan caught his breath, his ears pricking at the
sound of very human whispers. The hold where the horses were to be tethered was veiled in shadows, and surrounded by three heavy wooden walls lashed with stores.

Above was a hatch to the deck, a rope ladder hanging down. Behind Rowan was the entry to the hold, the side of the ship that would soon be lifted back into place. ’Twould be nailed in place, then sealed with wax, Rowan knew it well. The horses would be effectively trapped there for the duration of the journey.

As were those he could hear
breathing
behind the solid walls.

He and Thomas exchanged a quick, horrified glance, Rowan painfully aware of the shipman supervising their efforts. He gave the pale squire a sharp look and continued as if naught was amiss. Even Troubador looked indignant, the smell of fear doing naught to counter the beast’s inherent dislike of ships.

As Rowan shared that dislike, he was disinclined to be overly harsh with his mount. If he had been compelled to endure the voyage belowdecks, he would have been even more ill than was his custom.

Which said much, indeed.

But Rowan had made an arrangement. He had paid a healthy deposit for their passage, and had no doubt that it would remain in Baldassare’s possession, even if Rowan and his party chose now to not journey on the
Angelica.

Aye, Rowan’s coin would go into the treasury of this rogue Baldassare, a man who made his fortune in spice and slaves. That revelation could do little to restore a man’s humor.

’Twas Ibernia’s fault that Rowan had impulsively arranged to journey on this particular vessel without learning anything about it, Ibernia’s fault that he had been compelled to make a poor choice.

Truly, she tested his patience overmuch!

Troubador rolled his eyes and fought the bit, refusing to step further into the shadows. Rowan stroked the beast’s flank and tried to calm him, but to no avail. It helped naught that the ship began to rock and Rowan’s own belly began to churn.

“My lord,” Thomas whispered as they tethered the steeds. “Must we journey this way? The ship has not yet left the port.”

“ ’Tis not my way to be faithless in a bargain made, Thomas,” Rowan said grimly. “Even when ’tis made with a rogue.”

“Aye,” Thomas agreed faintly, his usual cheerfulness absent.

Rowan murmured to Troubador, who was having none of his reassurance. The steed stamped impatiently and tossed his head. The palfrey took his mood and became flighty, as she was wont to do. She danced sideways and refused to step up beside the destrier, let alone into the spot they had been assigned midship.

“We have not all the day and night to see this settled!” Their companion swore in Venetian, then raised a hand to strike the palfrey’s flank.

Rowan moved quickly to intervene.

“No one touches my steeds!” he cried. “I have paid a king’s ransom for passage—you will take naught more from the hide of any beneath my care!”

The man lowered his hand and smiled slowly. “A man of measure would endure no such foolery from any beast.”

But Rowan would not be tempted to respond in kind. “A man of merit has no need to use force to win his way,” he retorted.

The shipman snorted, unconvinced.

But Rowan would show him the truth of it. He retrieved
two lengths of linen from his saddlebag and blindfolded first the palfrey, then the destrier. The two steeds settled once they could not see the terrors surrounding them. Their noses twitched and their ears flicked, but the blindfold combined with Rowan’s gentle murmuring calmed them. They shivered and leaned against Rowan and Thomas, who stroked and spoke to them.

Within a few moments, Rowan coaxed them into the assigned space. And not a heartbeat too soon. The ship heaved, there were cries from above and a last scampering on the decks. The gangplank behind was lifted, that hatch sealed as hammering echoed through the ship.

Trunks were hastily passed through the opening above and stacked behind the steeds, Troubador bristling at the noise of the men passing back and forth close beside him. Rowan scratched his ears and spoke softly, keeping a stern eye on how close the goods were packed to the horses.

Even such a measure of his coin, it seemed, had won them very limited space. Finally the men darted back above and more calls echoed.

“If you have pampered your beasts enough, we would depart,” the shipman said wryly.

Rowan cast him a dark look. “I would remain for a few moments, to ensure the destrier settles.” A shiver ran over Troubador’s dark flesh even as Rowan stroked him. He could not abandon the beast when he was so afraid.

“We shall seal the hatch.”

“You shall do no such thing,” Rowan snapped. “My arrangement expressly allows access to the steeds throughout the journey.”

“They must be fed!” Thomas interjected.

“Then their leavings must be shovelled, and that by you,” the shipman snorted.

“I am well used to the duties associated with tending horses,” Rowan retorted.

The men glared at each other for a long moment, then the silhouette of a man’s head and shoulders was visible against the patch of cloudy sky. He demanded something in rapid Venetian; the shipman replied. Rowan had one last glimpse of the man leaning against his goods, his expression sardonic, then the hatch dropped closed and the hold was plunged into darkness.

“You must understand that with such a valuable cargo, I cannot leave you here alone,” the shipman said, his voice soft in the shadows. “You have only to tell me when you are prepared to leave and arrangements will be made.”

And Rowan understood that his own cry would not bring a ladder and the opening of the hatch. He felt the shadows press against him, he smelled suddenly the press of humans trapped around him.

The silk of Troubador’s hide beneath his hand was suddenly smoother, the scent of horse stronger. The destrier shivered once again, the ripple that ran over his flesh passing over Rowan’s own. Denied of sight, he was more aware of his other senses.

Thomas took a step closer. The boy was uncharacteristically silent, and now Rowan wondered at the wisdom of his choice.

Perhaps he should not have been so stubborn, or so anxious to win Ibernia’s dare to win them passage on this ship. Perhaps he should have abandoned the coin to Baldassare—he could have afforded as much.

But ’twas too late for second thoughts.