Chapter 15

 

After Savion left to attend his duties, Perdita found herself alone once again. She paced the cabin, stared at the glistening sea through the stern windows, and wavered between lying on the bed trying to sleep or flipping through the many books lining Savion’s shelves. One would think she’d have grown accustomed to being alone, but it never failed to bring her spirits low. Especially during the only month she had to enjoy the company of others. So, when Bart brought a clean gown and some boiled pork, biscuits, and papaya, she begged the grouchy old sailor to stay. He stared at her curiously, scratched his thick beard, and darted from the room as if she had the plague.

Mayhap she was a fungus, just as Savion had said.

As night fell, her thoughts drifted to Damien. And the pork she’d eaten for supper—as delicious as it was—soured in her stomach. The vile man had finally found her! A shiver overtook her. Striking flint to steel, she lit two lanterns, hoping to chase away the shadows along with the chill. Surely, it wouldn’t take him long to find out who Savion was and what ship he commanded.

Although, if Damien followed them and attacked, it would provide another opportunity for Savion to break the curse. It would also put Perdita at great risk. Hugging herself, she lowered to the cushioned window ledge and watched the moon sprinkle silvery dust atop waves. The rhythmic creak and groan of the ship should have lulled her exhausted body to sleep, but her nerves were too tight, her despair too overwhelming. She had only twelve days left before she faced another ten years of torturous loneliness.

This time she didn’t think she could bear it.

Hours later, the door latch clicked and Savion entered the cabin. Thankfully, his anger seemed to have evaporated. He stepped into the lantern light, and she wondered once again how she could have ever thought him plain. There was so much more to this man than his appearance—his spirit and soul so strong, so noble, they made his looks more than appealing.

Was that the reason he found her so hideous? Did her ugly soul overpower her beauty?

Setting his sword on the desk, he approached. “You look frightened.”

“I am.” She hugged herself.

One brow rose. “You? The woman who singlehandedly fights villains off on a beach, braves battles against Malum warriors, and steals a ruthless mayor’s fortune? That woman is frightened?”

She smiled. “Mayhap I have reached my limit of adventures.”

“Ah, let it be so!” He chuckled.

If he only knew how many preposterous adventures she’d embarked on in her long life, how many times she’d tried to lure men to their deaths—and in how many different ways. In truth, she’d run out of ideas. Now, here stood this enigma before her. This man who, by all accounts, would leap to his death to save her—or anyone, for that matter—but who was somehow protected by a force she dared not acknowledge.

By now she should have had him seduced to the point of declaring his love for her on bended knee. The next step would be to give her body to him, receiving his admiration and love, hearing his words of devotion whispered in her ears through the long, passionate night.

Of course every man who had done that had ended up abandoning her.

Alas, this man placed no value on sexuality or beauty. She’d not missed the admiration in his eyes when he mentioned her gifts to the poor, when he’d caught her telling the truth. Nay, this man valued honor, truth, and charity.

But how could she give him things she didn’t possess?

“You don’t have to be frightened,” he finally said, raising his hand to touch her but then dropping it to his side. “You are safe here.”

There it was, the longing again in his eyes. So, he did find her appealing. He did long to touch her. “Thank you, Savion.” She rose and threw herself into his arms, releasing a shuddering sob she wished she could give in to, for tears truly did fill her eyes. Especially when his strength surrounding her felt so good, so right, and made her feel so safe. Drawing her close, he embraced her tighter, and rested his chin atop her head.

“It’s all right, Perdita. You must learn to stay out of trouble.” He chuckled then grew silent as he stroked the hair falling down her back.

A cyclone rose in her belly—a pleasurable one that radiated through her body. ’Twas the usual desire, but yet so much more—’twas peace and safety and hope like she’d never known before. There, in his arms, she felt as though she’d come home, and the past three hundred years were but a bad dream. She breathed deeply of him and relaxed in his embrace—wanting to remember everything about this moment.

His body stiffened, and he pushed her away. Flustered and breathing hard, he retreated around the desk, grabbed his sword, and sheathed it.

“What did I do? Forgive me if I offended you.” She squeezed back tears. “Oh, Savion, why don’t you love me?”

“Love? I hardly know you, Perdita. Love must grow out of mutual respect and admiration.”

Perdita couldn’t help but huff. “That sounds more like fealty between servant and master than love. Love between a man and a woman starts with attraction, chemistry.” She searched his eyes for the attraction she’d seen there so often.

But instead, they were cold and filled with pity. “If you believe that, you know nothing of love.”

“And what do you know of it? Have you ever loved a woman?”

She regretted her harsh tone when pain etched across his face. “I have. Much to my regret.” He swallowed. “And I can tell you that what is between you and me is not love, Perdita. Love doesn’t badger. It doesn’t lie. It doesn’t cause the object of its affections pain. It doesn’t get angry, isn’t jealous. It does not seek its own pleasure but the pleasure of the one it loves.”

Anger, lying, seeking her own pleasure, causing pain—all the things she had done to him and so many others. Suddenly she felt as small and worthless as a ship mouse.

“Besides,” he added. “You are but a test I must pass. That is all.”

A sharp pain twisted her insides. Backing away, she averted her eyes from his piercing stare and almost wished he would leave before he wounded her further.

He did.

The slam of the door struck her heart with the finality.

Still tingling from his embrace, Perdita staggered to sit on the bed and fought back tears. She had thought she could no longer feel the pain of rejection, but this man, this Savion, touched her heart in places she didn’t know existed.

And he thought she was difficult to understand.

In his absence, a chill swept through the cabin, trying to steal the sensation, the smell of him away. She didn’t want it to leave. She wanted to remember him forever. Even if, in his naivety, he referred to love as if it were some sort of contract or friendship, cold and without passion, when in truth, it was magical and mysterious and made one feel alive and special. He’d probably never even been with a woman. What did he know?

She drifted in and out of a restless sleep in which Ivan number fifteen made an appearance—McKale Wolf. Hair the color of bronze with muscles equal to the metal’s strength, he was a colonel in King Abbas’s army. Courageous, passionate, mighty—what better choice of a man to risk his life for her? Though he could have his pick of women, he’d been easy enough to charm, and within days she’d had him falling at her feet like a limp noodle. In the weeks that followed, she found herself caring for the man despite his bumbling attempts to woo her. For a warrior, he was kind and thoughtful, albeit a bit vain, and he didn’t hide the fact that he adored her. In truth, he made her feel like a princess, as if she truly had value and worth. She never wanted their time together to end.

The skirmish between Abbas’s 5th Calvary and Natas’s horde of Malum had lasted for hours. Hiding amongst the shrubs on the edge of the battlefield, Perdita waited, watching, admiring McKale’s skill at fighting, but seeking that one moment when she could enter the fray and cause him to risk himself to save her. He’d more than proven both his courage and his love for her. This was the moment! Soon she would be free.

The battle turned in favor of the Malum, and soon Abbas’s forces issued a retreat. The Malum gave chase. Now! Perdita ran into the center of the field between the two forces and called out McKale’s name. He spun on his horse and gaped at her, at first with shock, then with fear as he eyed the advancing Malum. Seconds passed as Perdita’s heart vaulted in her chest like one of the horses galloping toward her.

He mouthed the word sorry, then jerked the reins and sped away. Unable to breathe for her severed heart, she started to run, but her legs wouldn’t move. The Malum horde struck her, the hooves of their horses trampling her over and over.

Thinking her dead, they left her lying face down in the mud. She’d spent days in excruciating pain, gnawed on by bugs and other vermin and breathing in dirt and horse manure until some of her strength returned, and she crawled to shore and slipped into the sea.

Rejected again. And from a man to whom she had given her all and would have loved forever.

Something slid down her cheek, tickling. She reached up and felt a pearl. Jarring awake, she sat, heart pounding, and blinked to dry her eyes lest any more tears escape. She must be more careful. She must have no more dreams that would cause her to cry. Swinging her feet over the edge of the bed, she rose, pressed down her gown, and headed out the door. She needed fresh air. She needed to clear her head of her haunting past—of the wounds she would forever carry in her heart.

With most of the sails furled for the night, only a few sailors roamed about the ship. Standing at the railing, she allowed the wind to ease fingers through her hair, a sensation she missed sorely when she lived in the water. With twelve days left, she was out of ideas to make Savion fall in love with her. If his idea of love was truly all the qualities he mentioned, not only did she possess none of them, they were all things freely given to the one loved. She could not force them or lure them or seduce them from him. She could not even use her beauty and her body to draw them out.

Who loved so unselfishly anyway? No one she’d ever met.

Yet … she did see desire in his eyes. Alas, whenever it appeared, he retreated quicker than a startled sea anemone. Mayhap ’twas hopeless. Mayhap she should allow him to leave her in some town where she could at least enjoy good food and the camaraderie of others during her last days on land.

“Good evening, Miss Mulier.” The sultry voice caused her to jump.

Verrad slipped beside her and gave her a disingenuous smile.

“Good evening, Mr. …”

“Verrad Jud. But please call me Verrad. Can’t sleep?” He cocked his head at her, and the malicious look in his eyes made her skin crawl.

“Or do mermaids not need to sleep?”