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I was devastated when I learned Maeve had died of fever. Imagine my surprise, when she turned up at Sebastian’s. I went to collect her as soon as I found out she was there.”
“She wants to be with Christian Beaumont.” Beth-Ann spits at him. “He has her under his spell.”
“The Butcher has her under no spell. She loves him, and he loves her. He is a Christian king. The church will kill him before they let him have a witch. It is the reason he let her go.”
“The rumors are true? He did marry another?” I ask. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Ramsay acknowledges. “I am sorry, Angel.”
Have you ever felt like you have nothing more to live for? That is how Christian’s betrayal feels. It hurts worse than death. All of my hoping and wishing is for naught. The tears I shed were a waste of water. The love that I gave him is lost in a sea of nothingness. He lied to me in the end. He chose his church over me. Their words blur together as they bicker back and forth. Everything that I hoped for that once seemed out of reach. Christian cannot divorce another Christian. I do not care about my sister’s anger, or the Antonov’s affections. I do not care about this broken arm, or Sebastian wanting me back. The Butcher butchered my goddamn heart. Underneath the pain, a hate blazes like no other. A hate that goes bone deep consuming every part of me-the way he once did. I hope the Bloodtakers kill him. I hope when he next rides into battle, he rides to his death. No, death is too good for him. I hope he lives. I hope he lives long enough to see me wed to another with his child calling another man father.
“Fix my arm, Beth-Ann. Please?”
“You need to hold her down.” She says grimly. “This is going to hurt.”
It does hurt. However, I have had bones set before. The pain is nothing compared to what I am going through inside. Ramsay holds me down while my sister pulls my arm until the bone pops back into place. They strap it to a flat of wood and lay me back onto the pillows sweating from exertion.
“I am going to bed, call me if she needs me.”
Ramsay takes her hand in his. “Thank you.”
Beth-Ann is flustered and blushes under his blue gaze. “She is my sister. I love her.”
She kisses my forehead and leaves the room. Ramsay watches her until the door closes after her. The effect that my sister has on men has nothing to do with sorcery. It is her beauty that makes them stare. When Ramsay turns back to me, I wonder if he has regrets. Did he choose the wrong sister? He removes his open blouse and peels off his hose.
“I do not want you sleeping alone anymore. You will sleep with me, or your sister until we send her back to her husband. You scared the hell out of me tonight.”
“I am okay now. Come back to bed.”
I admire Ramsay’s naked body as he approaches me. He slips underneath the bedcover reaching for me. I inhale the mingling scent of us that clings to him like a second skin. My arm is awkward and hurts like hell, but it cannot be helped until the sun rises.
“I have made a mess of my life, Milord.” I use his proper title. “I am not sure what to do.”
“Kiss me.” Ramsay whispers. “Stop thinking and kiss me.”
I cannot stop thinking. My head is racing with thoughts of my mother and sister, Sebastian and the Bloodtakers, but mostly of Christian and his new wife. Only, when Ramsay buries his fingers in my hair and his sweet lips touch mine, the overwhelming thoughts fade into the distant places of my mind until I can think about him. This man is special. More than special. I know that I can trust him when my sister goes back to her Winn, he will never leave me for a church or another woman. Something tells me to marry the Antonov. To make my home with him. I cannot think of anywhere that I would rather be, than with a man who feels the same way that I do. Who knows how long this will last. Nothing is constant anymore except for the love of my sister and the burning desire for the Butcher. The same desire that I have when the golden-haired Ramsay kisses me. He makes me comfortable on his chest and rubs my back until he falls asleep. I do not sleep. I fear nothing more than sleep. I stay awake to fend off the Bloodtaker.
It takes two long days for my arm to heal. Two days of the hot sun and sleepless nights. Beth-Ann stays by my side and we talk about everything. We reminisce on our childhood. We talk about our time on my mountain. She talks about her crush on Ramsay when she was young.
“I remember when he came to visit. He was riding a horse as big as his fathers and his back was just as straight. Ramsay was a quiet boy with yellow hair and the same blue eyes that you see today. I was a few years older, but not too many that we could not be wed one day.” Her face takes on a faraway look as she continues to speak. “His brothers were a rowdy bunch, but he was so observant and serious that even mother commented on it. He looked at me with curiosity the way one looks at something they have never seen. Women like us, are rare in this land as you know. Our ancestors were brought here as prisoners and others to slave for noblemen. His brothers teased me mercilessly with their mannish selves and it was Ramsay who made them stop. He was a beautiful boy.”
He still is, I think to myself as I watch him at the helm with his hair blowing in the wind. More so, in fact. I get an ache in my stomach that wraps around my heart. I want him. There is no getting around it, or pretending that he is some replacement, because he is not. Ramsay’s blue eyes find me and catch me staring at him. He smiles as he looks away again. It is not a triumphant smile or one of arrogance. It is the pleased smile of man who catches his woman staring at him for no reason.
“I know that I told you to go for the Erikson, Mae. I was wrong. He cannot marry a lesser the same as the Butcher, but the Antonovs do not seem to care about such things. They marry who they want, not who they are told. Maybe all of what has happened was your path leading to him.”
“My heart belongs to Christian.”
“And I love William. I will always love him, but it is not to be. My place is with Winn Erikson. Not even the handsome Antonovs will change my mind though they are trying.”
“They are a mannish bunch.”
“Some things never change, sweet sister.” She smiles warmly. “Sit up some, I will braid your hair. You look like a commoner with it all over your head like this.”
“We are commoners.” I remind her.
Elizabeth-Ann untangles my hair with a wooden comb before brushing it free of lint and any remaining knots. Her nimble fingers begin to plait one section at a time.
“Leave it.”
My eyes travel up Ramsay’s long legs over the prominent swell of his chest to his stern face. He reaches over to unbraid what my sister has done.
“I prefer it down.”
He turns on his heels and walks away again leaving us stunned.
“Yes.” Beth-Ann grins. “He is the one.”
“What does it matter how I wear my hair?”
“Your man likes it down.” She teases fluffing it out. “You heard him.”
“He is not my man.” I deny the accusation. “I hardly know him.”
“You know him well enough when you are in his bed every night.”
“Elizabeth-Ann!” I hiss at her. “Do not be so crude.”
“Crude?” She laughs. “And what do you call the yelling you do when you are in it? The entire ship can hear you screaming his name.”
I groan in misery. How embarrassing! Did Christian’s men not voice the same complaint? I must be quieter from now on. What does it matter, if the damage is already done?
“Is he better in bed than the Butcher?” She murmurs, watching Ramsay watch, me.
“Why?”
“Because they are both terribly handsome men. Sebastian’s nasty ways make him ugly.”
“The Butcher, is worse than Sebastian, Beth-Ann.”
“Yes, but...” Her words trail off and she blushes profusely.
“But what?” I get a sinking feeling that she came close to telling me what I do not want to know. “Go ahead and say it.”
“He is quite glorious when he is not killing people.”
“It is said that he raped you.” I remind her.
“He did not rape me.” She admits. “I... I kissed him willingly.”
“Did you fuck him?” I ask her.
Beth-Ann goes quiet and does not speak for a long moment.
“I thought I was dying.” Her voice trembles with regret. “And he is so... manly.”
I am angry. I am so damn angry that I can strangle her for touching what is mine. I do not care who he fucks. Christian Beaumont belongs to me.
“And where was our mother and your husband, when you were fucking the Butcher?”
“Sleeping.” Beth-Ann makes excuses for herself. “It was only the once.”
“You called me a traitor.” I stand up. “You said I whored for the Butcher when you did the same thing! Why did you not tell me?”
She stands up too. “Why did he not tell you before he seduced you?”
Why indeed? What kind of man fucks a woman before he sends her to the executioner before going on to fuck the sister? The wretched Butcher of Beaumont.
“The Prince was so far into his cup that I doubt if he remembers it. I had to undress him and do it myself. He passed out before he spilled his seed.”
“So, you raped him?” I accuse hatefully.
“A woman cannot rape a man, Mae. That is impossible.”
“You forced yourself on a drunken man.”
“I was trying to win him over!”
“You said that you wanted one last fuck before you died. Which one is it?”
“Both, damn it!” She cries. “You bedded him for the same reason.”
“I bedded him because we wanted each other. He was sober when he took my virginity, and each time after that. Why did you not fuck your husband? I never had to rape him.”
“Stop saying that.” Her lips tighten in displeasure.
“You raped him.” I hiss nastily.
“We made love.”
“You climbed on a drunk man’s cock.”
She slaps me. I bite my tongue and slap her back. I slap harder than she does, and it forces her back two steps. I catch her hand the second time she swings.
“The woman rapist of Ravenhill.” I smile an evil smile that makes her blush.
“You are jealous.”
“No, I am pissed off. You raped my husband.”
“He killed our family. He almost killed me.”
“It did not stop you from raping him.”
I can kill her with my bare hands. The men circle around us and cheer us on as she struggles with me. I give her a few good taps, before Ramsay breaks us up.
“Why in the fuck are the two of you fighting? What is this about?”
“Nothing.” I say.
“The Butcher!”
Beth-Ann sneak-slaps me when Ramsay is standing between us. I gasp when his hand cracks across her cheek and he pushes her back.
“That was cowardly, Elizabeth-Ann.” Ramsay shakes his head.
“You hit me!” She cries, holding her face.
“I will lock you in your cabin, if you try that shit again. She was not fighting anymore.”
“My husband will kill you for this.”
Ramsay laughs and his men chuckle. “If he tries, you will be two-times a widow, sweetheart.” He promises. “The Eriksons know better than to fuck with me.”
My hero. His bold ways leave me warm and flustered. My hand goes to my chest as I hold myself back from jumping on him right here. His words may be cavalier, but I doubt if anyone chooses to fight the Antonovs. Ramsay is different from the rest of us, and still, I cannot explain it. The way he speaks. The way he moves. Even the way he makes love is unheard of. It is almost like he is from another time in history. Somewhere long after now where I do not belong and will never see.
“Tell me why you are fighting over him?”
“She raped him.” I point my finger accusingly.
“I did not!”
“If they were together, I doubt if he raped her.”
“She told me herself that he was too drunk to fuck her back.”
“Is this true?” Ramsay frowns in disappointment. “Did you jump his bone while he was drunk? I have had women pull the same trick on me. Their fathers insisted that I marry them after. It is something that pathetic women do.”
“He got hard.”
Ramsay shakes his head. “I get hard in my sleep. It does not mean what you think it does.”
I am not sure how I feel about him talking about his cock with my sister.
“She hit me first.” I point out.
“The two of you are foolish to fight over a man who is not fighting over you. Cut the bullshit do you hear me?” Ramsay’s eyes settle on my tired face. He takes my hand pulling me against him. “You need to eat and take a nap to get rid of the bags under your eyes. A woman in your condition should eat several times a day.”
He is always clean and always dressed as if he is walking the halls of his palace. He smells like spiced rum and a hint of sweat. My arms wrap around his waist on their own. It is not like me to show affection in front of his men. I usually move out of his reach or push his hands away. Not this time. I tip my head back to look up at him. Ramsay pushes my hair before he kisses me.
“No more fighting or starving yourself. I worry about you.”
I blink back tears. Mostly tears are of happiness but also disappointment in Christian for not being more like Ramsay.
“Go to the galley and bring her something to eat. We will be in my box.”
His box is a small cabin up where the helm is located. There is a hammock strung across it and a small table with a single chair where his maps and star charts are open. I have never seen a ship’s helm before. Ramsay rolls up his papers and sets them aside.
“Sit.” He pulls out the chair. “This is where I sleep when we are at sea.”
“I hope I am not keeping you from it.”
“Shut up, Mae.” Ramsay pours me a drink of water. “You give me a reason to sleep in my bed. I want to sleep wherever you are sleeping.”
“Why?”
“Because I care about you and I enjoy being close to you.”
“Even though I love another?”
There can be no doubt about my love for the Beaumont King. It is not fair to let Ramsay believe that I am over him because of what we are doing.
“In time, you will love me too.” He kisses my cheek. “You are halfway there.”
I cannot deny my fondness for him or the effects of his nearness. Am I halfway there? Ramsay sticks his head through the opening.
“Tell Jem to hurry up with that food!”
“Aye Cap’n!” A man calls before yelling. “Damn it, Jem! Hurry yer ass with the lady’s vittles! She is like to starve to death waitin’. Me dead grandma moves faster than ye!”
Ramsay shakes his head and sighs. “Such gentlemen that lot.”
“I think they are perfect. So is their Cap’n.” I tease.
“You cannot say things like that and expect me to deliver you to another man. My ancestors were famous for stealing brides.”
I would laugh if I thought he was being funny. He is not. Ramsay is serious as ever.
“You would get tired of hearing me cry every day.”
“No, I would not.” His smile makes me nervous. “No price is to too hefty to get what I want. Lucky for you, I want you to come with me because you love me.”
“If we keep saying things like this to each other, we might ruin a few lives, maybe even our own.” I warn him.
“How so?”
“How will your family feel about you bringing home the, Butcher’s bastard?”
“I do not know, because I will not ask them. I do what I want to do, Maeve. Antonov men are not led by any man or religion. I make my own destiny, and his bastard can be my son.”
“Could you love another man’s child as your own?”
“I already do, for it is a part of you. I will cut out the tongue of any fool who calls a child of mine a bastard.”
This man has a way of getting under your skin and worming his way right into the very place that I am trying hard to keep him out of. Ramsay raises my chin and kisses me. He is always kissing me, and I am always kissing him back.
