Chapter 6

 

Though her voice bore no trembling, the poor lady had no doubt been overcome by fear. What lady wouldn’t in the threat of such a brutal attack? Breaking her fall, Savion hoisted her in his arms, ensuring the cloak she wore remained closed. Now, what to do with her? He couldn’t very well leave her unconscious in an inn. Such an unprotected beauty would not go unnoticed. And she was a beauty, undeniable now that he carried her into the full moonlight. Waves of raven hair spiraled across her shoulder to her waist. Plump coral-colored lips, lashes full and lush fanning across creamy cheeks. Great. Just what he needed.

On board his ship, he laid her on the bed in his cabin. She moaned.

“Are we going to keep her, Captain?” Hona asked, excited as a child receiving a new toy.

“Wonder where she came from.” Petrok drew close to examine her.

“She stays only until she recovers.” Savion laid a blanket over her just in case the cloak slipped open. “Call Haddeus to examine her.” The aged man was the closest thing to a surgeon Savion had, but perhaps he could revive her. The sooner the better, for then Savion could return her to town.

Beauty had fooled him once. It would not do so again.

Though he had to admit, he was a bit more than curious about this particular beauty. After ordering Petrok and Hona to their duties, Savion took a seat beside Haddeus as he checked the lady’s vitals. There was something familiar about her—flashes in his mind of dark hair, excruciating pain, and her comely face hovering over him. No. He rubbed his tired eyes. Surely he would have remembered meeting such a woman.

Haddeus packed his medical bag and rose. “I see nothin’ wrong with her, Captain. I’d let her sleep if I was you. Sometimes shock does this to a person, knocks ’em out for a while.”

Thanking him, Savion saw him to the door. Then raking back his hair, he faced the lady.

“Father, what am I to do? Is this some sort of test?”

He had hoped he was done with tests and trials. He had hoped that he had saved enough people, regained enough enemy territory to be called home again. Ah … Nevaeh. He sighed. How he dreamt of its crystalline streams and flowered fields—painted in colors so vivid they made even the turquoise sea pale by comparison—its ivory castles and majestic halls, its regal ceremonies and lavish festivals. And the people: honorable, kind, good. So different from the Kingdom of Erden—the land of the Ancient Seas, where Savion now lived.

His father would call him home when Savion was ready—when he had rescued the person or thing he’d been sent to save. In the meantime, Savion would further the kingdom and do all he could to quell the rebellion.

And he would not fail again by trusting a beautiful woman.

Pulling up a chair, he made himself as comfortable as possible and tried to sleep. His two years in Erden had taught him to trust no one, and he refused to leave this woman alone in a cabin filled with valuables for the taking.

Yet instead of stealing, she tossed and turned and mumbled in her sleep. Names such as Forwin and Ivan and a host of others spoken with such heartache and pain, they formed a lump in Savion’s throat. He reached for her more than once, wanting to offer comfort, but always halted for fear of frightening her.

By the time sunlight broke through the stained glass of the stern windows, exhaustion weighed heavy on Savion. He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the woman, her hair a tangle of wild black around her head, her cheeks pink, her breathing heavy and deep.

At least one of them had gotten some sleep.

Rising, he tugged on the bell pull to ring for coffee, a drink he’d grown quite fond of since he’d been living in Erden. Within minutes, Bart entered with a tray of the hot liquid, along with fresh biscuits.

The short, bull-like sailor peeked at the woman before setting the tray on Savion’s desk. “Have a pleasant evening?” His tone taunted.

“Actually, I hardly slept.” Savion poured coffee into his pewter mug, then at Bart’s teasing grin, he added hastily, “Not for the reason you’re thinking.” He sipped the coffee. Black, strong, and bitter, just the way he liked it. No cream or sugar, though he saw Bart had included them on the tray for the lady.

“You think of everything, Bart. Thank you.”

The man’s smile revealed two missing teeth. “Can I get you anything else, Captain?”

“I do have an odd request.” The woman stirred, drawing Savion’s gaze. “A gown, a bodice, underthings. Whatever it is women wear these days.”

Bart scratched his thick graying hair. “Women’s clothes, eh? I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will. And be quick about it. I want to put her ashore as soon as possible.”

 

♥♥♥

 

The delicious smell of coffee lured Perdita from her sleep. The sound of male voices kept her eyes shut, but the last statement from Savion sent her heart racing. What sort of man wants to get rid of a beautiful unclad woman? None she had ever encountered. She needed to act. And act fast. After the servant left, she let out a tiny moan and began to stretch. She moved her body as alluringly as possible—knowing the man was no doubt gaping at her.

Ready to continue her seduction, she opened her eyes.

He was staring out the window, sipping his coffee.

Frustrated, she moaned again and propped herself up on one elbow, allowing the blanket to slip over her bare shoulder. “Oh my!” She feigned a fearful tone. “Who are you? What am I doing here?”

Savion turned, set down his coffee, and approached slowly. “Never fear, miss. You are safe. No one will harm you here.”

Perdita intended to continue her fearful theatrics, if only to lure the man closer, but the sight of him basked in sunlight held her tongue. Handsome wasn’t a word she’d use to describe him, though he had a strong jaw and a well-shaped nose. Thick hair the color of bronze threaded with gold fell to shoulders that spanned wide and strong on a tall sturdy body clad in leather and linen. Powerful, commanding, masculine … those were words she would use to describe him. With a presence that was both unsettling and peaceful at the same time. She actually might be frightened save for the look in his eyes—the golden color of a warm fire, yet filled with such kindness and wisdom, she felt herself drawn into them.

Glancing down, she gasped. “What have you done with my clothes? Zost! What have you done with me?” Feigning horror, she clutched the cloak, leapt from the bed, and backed away from him.

He made no move toward her, merely stared at her with enough assurance to calm a raging storm. “Nothing, I promise. We rescued you from those ruffians on the beach. Don’t you remember?”

She glanced around the cabin, spacious for a ship, its dark mahogany furniture regal and masculine like its captain. She hadn’t realized he was the captain of the ship when she’d nursed him back to health. “Vaguely, yes,” she replied. “Thank you for your rescue. ’Twas beyond terrifying.” She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and allowed the cloak to slip once again off her shoulder.

He turned away and gestured to a tray on his desk. “My man is fetching you some proper attire. In the meantime, help yourself to coffee and biscuits, miss … miss ….”

“Perdita. Perdita Mulier.”

“Miss Mulier.” He smiled, faced her, saw her bare shoulder, and turned away again. “I shall leave you for now. When you are properly attired, I will escort you ashore.” He started for the door.

She knew she should try to stop him, but her eyes fastened on the food. Hurrying toward it, she shoved a sweet biscuit into her mouth and poured herself some coffee, plopping in chunks of sugar—several in fact. “Mmm.” She bit off a piece of the biscuit and allowed it to roll about her mouth. “Have you ever tasted anything so delicious?” A sip of rich, sweet coffee nearly sent her into ecstasy.

Savion halted and was staring at her oddly.

“Forgive me. I don’t often get such fine fare.” She set down the cup but slipped the rest of the biscuit into her mouth.

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “I will agree that our ship’s cook is better than most, but I’ve never heard his coffee and biscuits called fine before.”

Perdita quickly finished the food in her mouth and smiled. “I was rather hungry. But did you say you were taking me ashore?”

“Of course.” He turned to leave.

“Please, I beg you. You cannot return me to town.”

Her insistent tone caused his eyes to narrow. “I assure you, I can.”

She forced a shudder and lowered her gaze. “Then you sign my death warrant. There are men after me. To kill me.”

He shifted boots over the wooden deck. “And why would they want to do that?”

“Jealousy, Captain. A jealous powerful man whose proposal I refused.” She turned her back to him and sniffed, lifting a hand to her nose. “But I can see you do not believe me.” She allowed the cloak to slide down her bare back.

“Woman,” he huffed. “I find you naked on a beach. What do you expect me to believe?”

She released a shuddering sob. “This same man longs to humiliate me, to punish me. He knocked me unconscious, dropped me on the beach, and hired those men to steal my clothing, hoping I’d be beaten, ravished, or worse.” She glanced at him over her shoulder.

The look of concern in his eyes pricked her guilt. She hated lying, but how else could she convince him to allow her to stay?

“I will give you enough coin to live for a week and procure a position for you at the milliners. But the Scepter is no place for a woman.”

The Scepter, eh? Mayhap that was the man’s flaw. He thought himself a king and his ship an implement of his power. She dashed toward him and laid a hand on his arm. “Please, I beg you, at least take me to Kadon. I have friends there who will help me.” The ship rolled over a wavelet. She stumbled, and Savion took her elbow and led her to a chair. Sinking into the soft leather, she allowed the cloak to slip from one leg. “I promise I’ll behave.”

As expected, his gaze lowered to her shapely calf. He swallowed and turned away, staring out the windows.

Perdita smiled. Surely, she had him now. No man had ever been able to resist either her body or her helpless female routine. And never when she combined the two.

Oddly, instead of kneeling before her and begging for liberties, he plucked a sword from his desk and slipped it into his scabbard. “Very well, I will take you as far as Kadon.” He headed for the door. “If you will do two things for me.”

Here it came, the proposition. Somehow she found herself disappointed. She smiled sweetly, waiting.

But not a speck of desire rode on his expression. “One, that when your clothes arrive, you get dressed and remain that way; and two, that you stay away from my crew.”

Then without waiting for her answer, he left, closing the door behind him.

Perdita sank back into the chair, perplexed. She glanced at her leg thinking mayhap there was mud on it. Nay. Mayhap a wart had grown on her shoulder? Nay. She was as lovely as always. Stay dressed? ’Twas the one thing no man had ever asked of her.

Wouldn’t it be just her luck to choose a man who preferred men over women? Nay. She’d seen the way he looked at her. Mayhap he was merely unschooled in the art of love-making. Then what luck for him that he now had a great teacher on board. She smiled.

Mark her words, by the end of the three-day journey to Kadon, Savion would be groveling at her feet, swearing his love, and begging for her favors like a lovesick porpoise.