Into His Arms (11 page)

“Aye, ye paid a king’s ransom. I see why, now. When ye tire of her, I’ll be happy to reimburse ye some. Not all, seein’ as she’s slightly used.”

Geoff’s fist shot out in a blur, and of a sudden the man writhed on the deck, blood seeping through the fingers he held over his mouth and nose. Faith gasped and recoiled in horror, though she was unsure whether it was from the man’s disgusting insinuation or the violence of Geoff’s response.

The rest of the crew seemed as shocked as Faith. Clearly, it was most unlike their calculating commander to react so impulsively. When the captain turned to another sailor, the man stood to attention, his old navy training kicking in lest he be next.

“When he can stand, have him clean off this blood,” Geoff barked.

“Aye, Cap’n.”

“Anyone else have anything to get off his chest?” he asked, his rock-hard gaze sweeping the assembly.

The gathering became instantly busy. There were ropes to splice, sails to mend, animals to tend. The fact that there would be weeks in which to accomplish these tasks did nothing to alleviate the sudden sense of urgency.

Giles, who had bolted from his place at the helm, took in Faith’s pale face and wide, stricken eyes. “Best you go below now, Faith,” he said, and she nodded meekly. She’d had more than enough adventure for one day.

“Interesting response, that,” Giles commented dryly to his friend, once Faith was gone.

“He had it coming,” Geoff protested. “He—” Suddenly, he realized the absurdity of the sentence that had nearly spilled from his mouth.
He insulted Faith
. Since when had he broken the nose of one of his men for making a lewd statement to a woman, even one in his company? Oh, he was gentleman enough to defend a woman, but so violently? Never. “It was the second time he challenged me over this,” he amended.

“Was that it?” Giles inquired, but gave his friend a knowing grin. “It’s glad I am to be here to see this.”

“See what?” Geoff asked, his voice edged with irritation.

“To see you meet the woman who could finally get under that thick hide of yours.”

*

When his nose finally quit gushing blood, Killigrew bent to the task of swabbing the deck, but under the surface he seethed. “So what if the rest o’ us don’t ‘ave the Cap’n’s means to pay fer the tart?” he asked one of his shipmates. “It don’t make it a crime to look.”

The man next to him shrugged. “‘Twas the offer to buy ‘is leavings what got yer nose broke,” he stated matter-of-factly. “She’s got ‘im by the cock, that one. Wouldn’t surprise me none if she ‘asn’t let ‘im do nothin’ with ‘er, yet. Got ‘im all worked up with no relief.”

Killigrew licked his thin lips. “D’ye think so? If the wench were mine, I’d toss ‘er skirts over ‘er ‘ead and take my relief. Mind ye, I’m not finicky, but it’s sure I wouldn’t mind bein’ the first to ‘ave at ‘er.”

“Well, if ye figure it out, let me in. I’ve no qualms about second ‘and goods,” his colleague replied. He eyed the bloodstained deck. “My qualms is the Cap’n. Next time it’ll be the cat o’ nine tails.”

Killigrew smirked contemptuously. “Well, a lot could ‘appen to a man on the open ocean.” He cast a sullen glance toward the portal to the lower deck, where the Cap’n had gone chasing after the frigid bitch. “Arrogant prick. The satisfaction of runnin’ ‘im through would be well worth it, wench or no wench, virgin or not!”

Chapter 9

The night was torturous for them both. Faith could hardly sleep for trying to make sure that she did not repeat the mistake of rolling against him unaware. Geoff hardly slept for hoping she would roll against him unaware. To her infinite relief, he had taken to wearing breeches to bed, but his chest and arms remained disturbingly exposed.

In the morning, Faith had not yet turned away as he rose from the bed, and her breath caught audibly in her throat when she laid eyes upon his back. It was deeply scored by numerous wide, puckered lines that stood out in stark contrast to the rest of his dark golden skin. He dropped a shirt over himself and turned to her with that guarded, nearly emotionless look of his. For once, he said nothing when she dropped her eyes and remained silent.

He left, and she donned her cotton dress. Gathering her skirts about her, she struggled up the ladder and through the hatch onto the upper deck, acutely aware that there was no way to negotiate the ladder without exposing a bit of leg.

Geoff had cautioned her about being too friendly with his crew, but that didn’t seem to include Giles, so when Geoff was busy at the helm, she stood at the opposite end of the deck and spoke at length with his friend.

“‘Tis a fine day,” Giles observed as they gazed up at the patches of blue that broke through the clouds overhead.

“Aye,” Faith agreed. “And ‘tis peaceful up here on the deck when the sea is calm.”

Giles chuckled, his gaze sweeping over the raucous men that surrounded them.

“Well,” Faith amended, “‘tis peaceful if one overlooks the gaming, swearing, and drinking.”

“Aye, and the chickens and the goats.”

“Them, too.” The two of them laughed at the absurdity of the conversation. After a moment, Faith sobered. “At home, idle hands were the devil’s workshop, and one was expected to be always busy. Indeed, there was much to do, helping my mother with cooking, baking, laundry, caring for our few animals. I only meant that it seems so peaceful to have nothing more to do than enjoy a lovely day.”

“They worked you hard then?” Giles asked.

“Oh nay! Everyone worked hard. I never minded much, for we worked together. Mother and I tended the house and garden. Father and the boys worked in the joinery.”

“He was a carpenter, your father?” At her nod, he asked, “Do you miss them?”

“Fiercely,” she answered. She told him of her family, her brothers and her village. He told her of his family, as well. His father had been a shipbuilder, but his parents had died when Giles was young. His mother and sisters had stayed in their little cottage, eking out a meager living. But he had signed on as a cabin boy with one of his father’s old friends. He still saw them when he could, though it was rare.

“Our past makes us very much what we are,” Faith observed.

“Aye, it does that.”

“You and Geoff,” she prodded, “you’re close friends, but you’re very different from one another.”

“Aye, well, as you said, it is the past that makes us. We’ve done a fair job of wasting our youth together.” He gave her a little wink, but fell serious again. “But our boyhoods were altogether different.”

“I don’t wish to give the wrong impression,” she began. “Your captain has been a gentleman, I assure you.”

A little smile tugged at his lips. “There’s not many would dare accuse him of that.”

Faith smiled, too. There was no doubt that Geoff was unaccustomed to self-restraint. “To be sure, I do not ordinarily look, but it is difficult when two people share a space.” Her face was beet red, but she was determined to continue. “How came he by the scars upon his back?”

Giles’s smile faded. “Geoff has been at sea since he was a lad of ten. In his early years, he worked for a captain who was a harsh taskmaster, impatient with a cabin boy whose inexperience might lead to an occasional mistake.”

“He was beaten for mere occasional mistakes? Were they so serious?”

“Nay, a spilled breakfast tray, not enough rum in the captain’s water. It was no better when he first signed on as a regular crewman. It made of him a meticulous sailor. He thinks of every possible consequence in a heartbeat before he acts and unerringly chooses the best course. He’s a fine leader in the heat of battle, and he’s never lost a man who obeyed his orders. That calculating disposition of his reduces Spanish merchant captains to cowards once we board. It means we seldom have to kill anyone, which suits me.”

“I cannot fathom why he would have stayed at sea when his first experiences were so cruel.”

Giles shrugged. “You must consider his choices. They were much the same for any boy with no father to follow. I was fortunate, for my father had friends to look after me. Life at sea, no matter how harsh, was better than Geoff’s life in London. The kind of people he met there would have used a handsome young boy far worse.”

Faith’s brow furrowed in confusion. “How so? What could be worse than brutal beatings?”

Gazing down into her innocent, earnest face, Giles seemed at a loss to explain. “You don’t want to know,” he said, at last.

“Surely his mother would have protected him.”

“I think Geoff’s mother was very little like yours or mine.”

“He told me that she was a—a—”

“Courtesan?”

“Aye,” she answered, relieved not to say it herself. “But surely she loved him, just the same.”

“I swear, there was never a time in my life when I was as innocent as you, girl. ‘Tis not a bad trait, but the world will play harshly with you.”

He shook his head at her quizzical look and continued. “Geoff talks little about his mother. It sounds as though she was very beautiful and entertaining, but she could be harsh and angry as well. Once, when she’d had too much drink, she told him she had tried to rid herself of him before he was born, but only bled enough to scare herself out of trying again.” He paused at Faith’s gasp. “Shortly after she told him that, he heard her speaking with a nobleman who wanted to, ah—well there’s no way to soften the sound of it. He wanted to buy the lad for the night.”

“Buy him for a night? What would a man do with a lad for...” She stopped, and her face went ashen. “You cannot mean...” But she couldn’t finish the sentence.

“She turned him down,” Giles added, “but there was enough temptation on her part to worry Geoff. He thought that perhaps someone would yet find her price for him. ‘Twas then he found a post as a cabin boy. He saw her only thrice after and didn’t much mourn her when she died.”

“There are people who would do such a thing to a child?” She sought Geoff’s commanding form with her eyes and tried to imagine him as a boy. What had he been like ere he learned that life would treat him so harshly? Mayhap he had always been so bold, so strong, having learned early that he had no one to depend on save himself. Was there not still some softness inside of him?

Giles read the look she cast toward the captain. “I’ve told you too much, Faith. They say that which does not kill us makes us stronger. Geoff made it through. He’s master of his own fate now, successful and respected by his men.”

“But there are hurts inside of him that, like his back, will forever bear witness to all that he has suffered. He has no faith in God or humanity. He doesn’t even believe in love.”

“I doubt me there is much that can be done to soothe those hurts now. He has in me the love of a loyal friend, but when a boy reaches manhood having never been freely given the love he ought, he must give up wanting it to survive.”

“Nay, he’s not given it up; he’s only buried it! He’s sad, Giles. Do you never see that?”

“Ah, Faith, don’t go thinking you’ll make it all better for him. You’ll only get hurt. He wants you, maybe even likes you, else he’d not be so patient, but he’ll make you no promises, and in time he’ll move on.”

She watched the man they discussed as he stood at the helm, the wind tearing through his unbound hair with its glints of gold and molding his shirt to his muscular torso. He appeared to be engaged in a serious discussion with one of the crew. Giles was right, of course. It wouldn’t do to think softly of Geoff. In such close quarters that meant certain disaster. He nodded to the crewman and left him at the helm so that he could join Giles and Faith.

“You’re looking far too serious here,” Geoff said when he reached them. “And Faith, your fair skin is no match for this sun and wind. Your nose is turning pink.”

“Aye, I suppose I should go below, but it does get so dull.”

“Make use of my books if it pleases you.”

“That’s very kind of you, but they’re all on sailing. I try to pay attention, but my mind wanders.”

Geoff smiled slightly. “There’s a volume or two of poetry in the cabinet. I’ll be down in a bit and keep you company awhile.”

He turned to Giles, and all trace of merriment vanished. “Dobbes has gone betting with money he doesn’t have again,” he said. “There’s three or four men want to run him through with their cutlasses.”

Giles crossed his arms and scowled. “Damn me if it’s not tempting to let them,” he said. “You cannot tell me you’re not bloody sick of saving his sorry hide.”

“Aye, well, ‘tis a sickness with him,” Geoff said. “I can hardly let the crew have at him. Still, I’ve done him no good so far.”

“What will you do?” Giles asked.

“As usual, find him some extra duties, something noxious and worth the extra pay he’ll get to settle his debts.” He sighed, his face a mask of grim resignation. “And this time, give him forty lashes. There’s nothing else for it.”

Faith sucked in her breath, and his gaze flickered across her. “Go below. You’ll not want to watch this.” With long, purposeful strides, he headed across the deck where a group of surly men obviously awaited the Captain’s decision.

She looked to Giles who only shrugged. “He’s saving the man’s life, Faith.” Then he turned and followed his commander.

Effectively dismissed, Faith descended the ladder into the dimly lit space below. She searched the cabinet until she found a volume of poetry by a man named Robert Herrick. Sinking onto the bed and turning its leather cover over in her hands, she contemplated what might be inside.

“I see you’ve found something,” Geoff said as he came into the cabin.

“Aye,” she said, a bit hesitantly.

His eyes sparkled mischievously. “That’s one of my favorites. You should enjoy it.”

She looked up the ceiling, thinking of the drama that must have unfolded above. “The man, Hobbes…”

Geoff shrugged. “Mayhap he will think twice ere he gets himself into this predicament again. His mates are out of patience with him.”

“Why do they bet with him if they know he cannot pay.”

“‘Tis not their job to watch after him. What would your people do with a gambler?”

“The same,” Faith admitted.