Boyett-Compo, Charlotte - Wyndmaster 1 (12 page)

Celeste groaned when she realized she would need to re-sew the wound. Her eyes lifted to his. "I am so

sorry," she apologized again.

"Milady, just do what has to be done," Sierran said. "I'm freezing here half naked."

* * *

By the time Sierran, his lady, and Vargas came up on deck, Vaughn Morgan was in high temper. It was

apparent he had been pushed well past his ability to cope. He was pacing the deck, his riding crop

repeatedly hitting the calf of his leg. As soon as he saw his brother, he strode forward with fury stamped

across his lean face.

"How dare you keep me waiting like this, Sierran! I know our mother taught you how to behave in the

company of your betters and?"

"Betters!" Celeste shrieked and would have gone after the snarling man had not her husband snaked out

a hand to stop her. She stilled instantly, unwilling to do him any more hurt but her eyes narrowed

dangerously. "Who the hell do you think you are, you pompous fool?"

Vaughn opened his mouth to tell her but Sierran beat him to it. "Milady this is my brother, Lord Vaughn

Morgan, the Viscount of Brayton. Vaughn this is?"

"Viscount? How quaint." Celeste sniffed. "My father is a lord."

Vaughn's gaze narrowed. "Lord of what?" he sneered. "The Lord of Whoremongers?"

Sierran reacted before he thought and stepped forward to plow his fist into his brother's face. He hit the

man so hard, Vaughn crashed backwards, falling to his rump on the deck. His teeth clicked together and

he grunted as he landed. He sat there, stunned, staring up at his brother.

"Lord Charles Allen, Laird of Dragonmoor," Sierran snarled the rest of the introduction as he shook his

hand, amazed he hadn't broken it.

At that name, Vaughn's face paled and his mouth dropped open. "You can't be serious," he whispered in

apparent disbelief.

"Aye, I am," Sierran said and sighed for he felt the warm trickle of blood easing down his chest a second

before his wife saw it blossoming on the front of his shirt.

"Oh, Sierran," she groaned. "You're bleeding again."

"Bleeding?" Vaughn repeated and his attention dropped to his brother's shirt.

Celeste took her husband's arm. "Come back below and let me see to it."

Sierran cast Vaughn an arch look then allowed his lady to lead him back toward the companionway

ladder, Vargas right behind them.

Vaughn shrugged off the help of one of his retainers and got to his feet. He didn't bother to pick up his

riding crop but headed straight for the ladder. He stomped into the cabin as Vargas was helping Sierran

out of his shirt yet again. "What the hell has happened to you, Sierran?" he demanded.

"Make yourself useful and thread this!" Celeste said, shoving a needle and thread at Vaughn.

Vaughn would have balked but as soon as he saw the myriad cuts on his brother's chest, he gasped. "

What the hell happened to you?"

"Thread it or get out!" Celeste ordered. She was pouring water from the pitcher onto a cloth. She

looked at her husband. "Sit down and Vargas, go fetch him another shirt."

"Aye, milady," Vargas replied and pushed past Vaughn none too gently.

"What happened?" Vaughn repeated. He was trying his best to get the thread through the eye of the

needle.

"A slight run-in with the Dungeon Master," Sierran said.

Vaughn flicked a cursory glance at Celeste. "What did you do? Compromise his shrew of a daughter?"

Sierran didn't answer for his lady was gently cleaning the oozing blood from his wound. "I shouldn't have

hit him," he said with a sigh.

"No," Celeste said. "You should have allowed me the honor. I would have kicked his dangly."

“My what?” Vaughn gasped.

"I think I tore something open in my back, too, sweeting," Sierran admitted.

"Your back?" Vaughn exploded, stepping forward so he could look behind his brother. As soon as he

saw the mass of crisscrossed gashes, he sucked in a harsh breath. "Sierran! What did you do?"

Before her husband could answer, Celeste reached over and shoved Vaughn hard enough to make him

stumble. "Don't assume he did anything wrong, you idiot!" she snapped.

"Woman, if you do that one more time I will…" Vaughn began only to have his younger brother shoot to

his feet and grab the front of his coat, dragging Vaughn almost nose to nose with him.

"Touch her and it will be the last thing you ever do, Vaughn," Sierran said from between tightly clenched

teeth. He, too, shoved Vaughn then sat back down in his chair, glaring at his brother, daring him to say

anything else.

"Give me the needle so I can sterilize it," Celeste grumbled, holding her hand out to Vaughn.

Vaughn clamped his jaws shut and said not a word as he placed the threaded needle into Celeste's palm.

He watched in silence as the woman sewed his brother's injury. He winced when Sierran did but kept his

mouth shut. He just stood there and watched as Celeste finished sewing the cut on his brother's chest

then lightly dabbed it with a cloth which had been dipped in whiskey. "I never thought to use whiskey as

a disinfectant," he said grudgingly.

Celeste ignored him. She looked past him. "Did you find something for him to wear?"

Vargas came in with a shirt he had sent Seth to purchase on the waterfront. "'Tis silk, milady. It shouldn't

hurt him so bad."

"Although it won't be all that warm, it will be better than that rough cotton," Celeste said. "Thank you,

Vargas."

"My pleasure, milady."

"He has broken open a large gash on his back," she said. "It, too, will need sewing." She handed Vargas

the needle.

Vargas set about re-threading the needle.

"Who did that to you, Sierran?" Vaughn asked again.

"General Thurston had a slight problem with me disobeying an order," Sierran replied, gritting his teeth as

Celeste set about closing the wound on his back.

"Well, then…" Vaughn began but Vargas cut him off.

"The commander refused to slaughter a village of women, children, and old folks where there wasn't

even the first warrior about," he said.

"Thurston is crazed," Vaughn suggested.

"Thurston is dead," Vargas stated.

Vaughn nodded. "Saves me from having to do it."

"Why are you here, Vaughn?" Sierran asked, taking a deep breath as soon as Celeste was finished with

her work.

"Father sent me to fetch you," his brother replied.

"For what?" Sierran asked, bending over to take up his socks and put them on.

Vaughn lifted his chin. "It is a family matter, Sierran, and not to be bandied about before outsiders."

"Neither Celeste nor Vargas are outsiders, Vaughn," Sierran said. "Vargas is more a brother to me than

you, Peyton, Fallon or Dyllon have ever been and Celeste is my?"

"How can you say that?" Vaughn interrupted. "We are your family and to equate someone like this man

here…"

"Go back toArgonne , Vaughn," Sierran said in a tired voice. He picked up one boot and pulled it on,

wincing as he did. "I am in no mood to argue with you." He put on the other boot then placed a hand to

his temple.

"Have you another headache?" Celeste asked, squatting down beside his chair.

"Aye," he admitted.

She looked up at Vargas who nodded and fished in his pocket for the vial he was never without.

"Is that tenerse?" Vaughn demanded, giving the purple bottle an arch look. "Father does not want him to

have narcotics. He was never allowed to have narcotics when he was growing up. Father would?"

"Your father can go to hell and take you along with him," Celeste said, getting to her feet to face down a

man to whom she had taken a very strong dislike. She took a cup of water from Vargas who had added

a healthy dose of tenerse to the liquid. She handed it to her husband. "You heard Sierran. Go back

toArgonne and leave him be."

"I'll not leave until my business here is finished, wench," Vaughn told her.

"Then stay out of the way and let your brother get over this headache. He doesn't need anything else to

plague him," Celeste ordered. She turned her back on Vaughn. "Vargas, please round us up a wagon like

the one we took him to the ship in. Make sure it's well padded and if you can scrounge up some silk

coverlets to cover him, I would be much obliged."

"Whatever you wish, milady," Vargas said and started out of the cabin.

"So she controls your men, does she?" Vaughn said with a snort. "I never thought to see the day,

Sierran."

"Sierran, have you ever considered you might be adopted?" Celeste asked.

Trying not to laugh at his wife's question, Sierran got shakily to his feet. The tenerse had made him

pleasantly numb and lightheaded. He held his hand out to her and drew her close—although not close

enough for their bodies to touch—more for the physical contact with her than a need for support. He

turned to his brother.

"What does Father want with me, Vaughn?" he asked, his fingers laced with Celeste's.

Vaughn glanced down at the joined hands then took a deep breath. "I have been sent to fetch you home

for your bride."

Sierran stiffened. "What bride?" he fairly barked.

A tight, smug smile shifted over Vaughn's face. "The one Father has already Joined you to by proxy."

Staggered by the news, Celeste looked up at her husband's furious face and shied away from the anger

she saw blazing there. Unaware he was crushing her hand in his until she whimpered from the discomfort,

he let go of her fingers with a quick apology.

"You certainly can't take this woman home with us," she heard Vaughn saying. "I don't know what you

will do with her but?"

"Where I go, she goes!" Sierran shouted, nearly passing out as the tenerse shot through his system along

with the vast amount of adrenalin his anger dredged up.

"You know better than that," Vaughn snapped. "Father and Mother will not have one of your

paramours…"

"Damn you, you bastard! Celeste is not a paramour. She is my wife!" Sierran spat. He had to reach out

to brace his hand on the wall to keep from falling.

"Wife?" Vaughn repeated. "Sierran, surely you haven't…"

"We were duly married by Captain Kynth," Sierran said.

Celeste moved closer to him and slipped her arm around his waist, careful of his injuries. "Come lie

down, Sierran, before you collapse."

"Leave, Vaughn," Sierran said. "And tell Father I'll not have him manipulating my life as he has yours and

the others."

Vargas and Mac appeared at the door. "We've got the wagon ready, milady," Vargas told her.

"Sierran, the Joining was performed three weeks ago," Vaughn said. "I don't know when you were

trapped into marrying this shrew, but I'm sure your Joining to the Lady Beatrice supersedes the one

performed on ship."

"Who?" Sierran asked.

"Lady Beatrice Summerall," Vaughn snapped. "Of Patterly."

Exchanging a shocked look, Vargas and Mac crowded into the room, forcing Vaughn to step aside.

"We'll see to him, now, milady," Vargas said, easing into position beside Celeste to relieve her of her

husband's weight. "You go on ahead. Seth will help you into the wagon and we'll bring him right along."

"You aren't taking him anywhere!" Vaughn disagreed, putting out a hand to stop Celeste. "He is to be

taken to my ship."

She shrugged off his hand. "Don't touch me," she said and practically ran out of the cabin.

"I demand you take him to my sloop!"

"Ain't going to happen, milord," Mac said as he took Sierran's other arm. "You want a fight, just start

one and our men will gladly put your fancy arse down."

Vaughn's eyes widened. "Do you know to whom it is you are speaking, you lackey, you? I will have you

arrested if you do not do as I command!"

Sierran was rapidly losing consciousness to the drug invading his system. He tried to speak but found he

couldn't. His body was all but hanging between Vargas and Mac and the strain on his torn flesh was

making him sweat.

"You are on Zykanthos, milord," Vargas reminded Sierran's brother. "The commander owns this island

and everything on it. He is the law here so you can take your complaint to him when he's feeling better."

Pushing Vaughn aside with his shoulder, Mac was already walking Sierran toward the door. Vaughn

attempted to block their exit of the cabin but two burly sailors appeared out of nowhere to crowd him

back inside the cabin.

"Milady said we might be needed," the largest of the two men said.

"Keep that fancy pants here," Vargas told the men. "He ain't to be allowed to leave until you know

damned well we have gotten the commander home."

"Aye, Sergeant Vargas," the sailors agreed.

"And see that him and that little boat of his leaves Zykanthos," Mac suggested. "We don't need or want

him and his kind here."

"It'll be our pleasure, Mac," the smaller of the two men stated.

"You can't do this!" Vaughn complained, keeping well back from the brawny sailors who were giving

him intimidating looks. "I demand you step aside and allow me to escort my brother home toArgonne !"

"You can demand all you want," Vargas said. "We ain't listening."

* * *

Celeste was sitting on the mattress that had been placed in the back of an oversized wagon. She was

huddled inside a thick wool overcoat provided by the captain but the sea air was chill and she was

shivering from the cold. As her husband was carried up into the wagon, she folded aside the thick satin

coverlets so Mac and Vargas could lay him down.