Journey of the Wind
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day.” His slow smile was nasty. “Isn’t that right, Kyle?”
“Oh my god, Kyle, no!” Rylee said, her hand to her mouth.
A muscle working in his jaw, Kyle narrowed his eyes. “You son of a bitch,” he said
quietly.
“Now, gentlemen—” the captain began, but Alsandair held up a hand.
“No need to worry, Captain,” Kyle said. “It was meant as a compliment.”
Alsandair lifted a dark brow. “That was a helluva compliment, Striker. I doubt my
mother would have been pleased.”
Kyle could feel Rylee trembling, her hand jerking against his chest. He lifted it
slowly and gave the back of her hand a soft kiss. “Seems I miscalculated, my love,” he
apologized.
“I won’t do it,” Rylee said. “I won’t!”
“Would you have your man known as a welcher?” Alsandair asked in a hard voice.
“That wouldn’t be good in his line of—” he smiled brutally “—work.”
Kyle let out a long breath. “I’m afraid I lost, dearling, and unless Commander
Farrell foregoes the bet—”
“Which he won’t,” Alsandair injected.
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Rylee snatched her hand from Kyle’s and ran from the room.
Pushing back his chair, Kyle stood. He scooped up what was left of his holdings
and pocketed them. “I hope you will be gentle with her, milord,” he said then turned to
leave.
Andelton was frowning brutally. He reached out to grab Kyle’s hand. “You can’t do
this,” he said.
“She was my woman before she was his,” Alsandair said, drawing the captain’s
attention. “I’m only taking back what was mine to begin with.”
Kyle stiffened, turning around to face his rival. “Make no mistake about it, Farrell.
She’s still mine. You may have her for the evening but it will be for nothing more than
what she is willing to give.” That said, he stalked out of the room.
Alsandair gave Andelton an amused look. “Don’t worry, Drake. I’ve no intention of
ravishing the lady unless she insists.”
“You promise?” the captain asked. “I wouldn’t want it known that I aided in a
woman’s mistreatment.”
“That won’t happen even if I’m more inclined to strangle her than tumble her,”
Alsandair assured him.
Briarly let out a long sigh as Alsandair left the room. “Lucky man,” he said.
“And one whose heart rests in his eyes,” Andelton said with a shake of his head.
* * * * *
Kyle held up a hand to keep the tin cup from crashing into his head. “Now,
Rylee…” he said, backing away from her door as the cup sailed past him and out into
the corridor.
“How could you?” she shouted at him, picking up the pitcher from the stand to
throw at him as well. She would have had not Alsandair appeared beside him. “And
you can go to hell, Alsandair Farrell! I’ll not have you manhandling me!” she hissed
when she saw her ex-lover.
“I’ve no doubt that’s where I’m going to wind up, Ry,” Alsandair responded.
“I will not be a part of this lunacy,” she snarled, and let go of the pitcher.
Alsandair and Kyle jumped as the pitcher crashed into the wall between them and
shattered pottery shards over both of them. One ragged shard bounced off the paneling
and struck Alsandair on the cheek just under his eye, drawing blood.
Rylee’s eyes widened as she watched the wounded man put a hand to his face then
look down at the blood smearing his fingers. His gaze jerked slowly to hers and she saw
the disbelief in his dark eyes.
“Damn, woman,” he said. “I wasn’t the one who made the bet.”
Realizing she could well have blinded him, she buried her face in her hands. “See
what you made me do, Kyle!” she accused.
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Kyle’s eyebrow shot up. “I don’t recall telling you to throw things at us, dearling.”
He gave Alsandair a jaundiced look. “Sorry about that, old man.”
“What can I say?” Alsandair asked. “She has a temper.”
“So I see,” Kyle agreed. “Her bite is as bad as her bark.”
Rylee’s head shot up. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here!” she yelled. She
flinched as she watched Alsandair trying to stop the flow of blood on his face.
“Here,” Kyle said, “let me see.” He reached out to take his rival’s chin, pulling a
handkerchief from his pocket to hand to Alsandair.
“It’s nothing,” Alsandair said. “I’ve had worse cuts shaving.”
Rylee was amazed her ex-lover would let Kyle touch him and she stood there in
silence as Kyle proclaimed the cut might well need a stitch to close it.
“Don’t worry about it,” Alsandair said, putting the handkerchief to the wound.
“Why are you here, Sandair?” Rylee asked. She was feeling guilty about hurting
him so her voice was less strident than before.
“About the bet—” Alsandair began, but she cut him off.
“I do not recognize your gods-be-damned bet, Farrell!” she snapped.
“I’ll say it again, wench,” Alsandair said, his jaw tight. “I didn’t make the bet. Your
new man did.”
“Mayhap not, but you took part in it,” she accused. “And I wouldn’t put it past you
to have cheated to win.”
“Rylee!” Kyle exclaimed. “There was no way he could have—”
Alsandair lifted his chin. “I came to tell you to forget about the bet, milady, but
instead I think there’s a better way to settle this.”
“What better way?” Kyle asked, holding up his hand to forestall the angry retort
Rylee had been about to make.
Alsandair shifted his attention to Kyle. “We’ll cut cards,” he said. “Winner takes the
pot and the woman.”
“The woman?” Rylee questioned, her eyes narrowed to thin, malevolent slits. “The
woman? Why, you sleazy bastard!”
“We’ll let it be the luck of the draw,” Alsandair said as though she hadn’t insulted
him. “We’ll let the Fates decide. What will be will be.”
Kyle tucked his bottom lip between his teeth and considered the suggestion. “And
what does the loser get?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Alsandair replied. “But if I draw the winning card, I will get
more than a haircut from her. I promise you that.”
Her mouth dropping open, Rylee’s face turned crimson, but when her gaze met
Alsandair’s she saw the anger lurking there and she snapped her mouth shut. She knew
in that instant he would somehow manage to manipulate the cards to win her.
“Chicken,” Alsandair goading, knowing well which of her buttons to push.
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Rylee narrowed her eyes. “Don’t call me a coward.”
Alsandair merely cocked a taunting brow.
“I mean it, Sandair,” she snapped, and when he said nothing, she had to clench her
hands into fists to keep from slapping him.
“Mayhap you’re not as brave as you think,” he finally said. “Afraid Fate might rear
up to bite you on your ass, Ry?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head adamantly.
“Then I guess you have no faith in your new man’s ability.”
Rylee hissed. “I have every faith in Kyle’s ability!” she fumed.
>
“Then prove it,” Alsandair challenged. “Or are you afraid I’ll somehow manipulate
the deck?”
“If there is a drawing to be done, it will be done at my hand. I will shuffle and I will
cut the deck!” she snapped.
Alsandair pulled the handkerchief away from his face and frowned when he saw
the cut was still bleeding.
“It needs suturing, Sandair,” Kyle said.
“Decide,” Alsandair said, ignoring Kyle’s words. “Do we cut cards or not?”
“I don’t have any cards on me,” Kyle said. “We—”
Alsandair spun around on his heel and walked back to the common room to fetch a
new deck from the sideboard.
“Are you sure this is what you want, dearling?” Kyle asked.
Rylee just glared at him. She was as angry at him as she was at Alsandair and
neither man was high on her list of those she’d save from impending horrific death and
devastating disfigurement if given the choice.
Returning with the cards, Alsandair extended them to Rylee, who snatched them
out of his hand with an unladylike curse. She opened the deck and tossed the box away,
going to the desk where she sat down and began going through the cards, making sure
the deck was legitimate. Satisfied she shuffled them then stood up, turned to face the
men and gave them each an angry glance.
“His card first,” Kyle said, and when she squinted at him, actually took a step back.
Rylee slapped the deck down on the desk, slid her fingers down it and cut the deck,
lifting the card and holding it for the men to see.
“Three of clubs,” Kyle said and his lips twitched. “Not a very good card, my friend.
As you said, what will be will be.”
Alsandair said nothing though there was a shadow of sadness in his brown eyes.
“Now yours, Kyle,” Rylee spat, and cut the deck again, not bothering to look at the
card as she held it up to the men.
“By the gods,” Kyle whispered.
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Rylee saw the color drain from Kyle’s face and slowly turned the card around to see
what she’d picked. As she saw the two of diamonds, her heart thudded hard in her
chest.
“An even worse card than mine,” Alsandair said quietly. “Imagine that.”
Rylee looked up to see Alsandair walking out of her cabin. Almost at the same
moment, the storm stopped raging outside, the silence almost deafening.
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Chapter Five
He opened the door for her and stepped aside for her to enter. His shirt was
unbuttoned, hanging outside his britches, and he was barefoot. Neither spoke as he
closed the door behind her then slid the bolt in the lock.
Rylee turned to face him and winced when she saw his injury was still oozing
blood. “I think Kyle was right, Sandair,” she said. “The cut needs a stitch to close it.”
He shrugged, reaching up absently to swipe at the trickle. Walking across the room,
he disappeared behind the privacy screen.
At a loss to know what to do, Rylee sat down in the ladder-back chair at his desk
and folded her hands primly in her lap. She found herself more nervous than she could
ever remember being in his presence. She tried not to listen to him relieving himself
behind the screen. When he came back with his britches unbuttoned, she quickly looked
away, feeling the heat gathering in her cheeks.
When he remained silent, she looked around to find him bent over the sea chest,
rummaging around inside it. As he stood up, she realized he had a sewing kit in his
hand. She watched as he opened the kit, took out a needle, a pair of scissors and a spool
of what looked like fishing twine. Measuring off a length of the twine, he cut it with the
scissors then began threading it through the eye of the needle.
“Do you want me to do that for you?” she asked softly.
He didn’t answer her. After several tries, he managed to get the needle threaded.
Then he took the glass globe off the lantern beside him and thrust the needle into the
flame to sterilize it.
Without another word, Rylee got up and went to the washstand where a bottle of
brandy sat, uncorked it and poured a small amount in one of the tin cups. She re-corked
the bottle then brought the cup over to him, holding it out for him to drop the hot
needle into the liquor. After he did, she pulled the cup back before he could fish inside
it for the needle.
“I’ll do it,” she said, reaching behind her for the scissors.
He looked at her. “Just can’t wait to hurt me again, can you?” he challenged.
Tears formed instantly in Rylee’s eyes. “If you don’t want me to do it, I’ll go get the
ship’s doctor. I’m sure they have one,” she said.
Alsandair moved away from her and sat down on the bunk. “Have at it, milady.
I’m all yours.”
It took every ounce of her courage to pierce the tender flesh beneath his eye to close
the wound and when she was finished, Rylee realized her hands were trembling. She
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laid the needle and scissors on the table beside his bunk and stepped back. “I’m sorry I
hurt you,” she said.
“Aye, well, shit happens, doesn’t it?” he muttered, and stood up to shove his
britches down his legs.
“What are you doing?” she asked, taking another step back.
He didn’t even glance at her as he stepped out of his britches and tossed them onto
the sea trunk. “It’s been a long day and I’m tired,” he said. “I’m going to bed.”
She stood there watching him climb beneath the covers, nothing between him and
the sheets but air. That in itself wasn’t unusual for he always disdained wearing
undergarments and sleeping in the nude was as natural to Alsandair Farrell as
breathing. What surprised her was that he moved to the far side of the bunk, turned his
back to her and pulled the covers up to his shoulders.
For the longest time she didn’t move. It was hard for her to believe he wasn’t
making good on his threat to ask more of her than she was willing to give him. He was
ignoring her and that brought the heat of humiliation to her cheeks.
“That’s it?” she asked. “That’s all you’re going to do? Go to bed and turn your back
on me?”
He didn’t answer.
She fiddled with the sash at her waist that doubled as a belt. “Where am I to sleep,
Sandair?”
There was no reply.
She glanced at the door as another five minutes passed.
Alsandair was staring at the cabin wall and when the lantern went out, the room
plunging into darkness, he held his breath. Stillness possessed the room with only the
tick of the clock breaking the silence. At last he felt the mattress sag, the covers tug
behind his back then he heard the slide of her long legs stretching out beside him
against the sheets and still he remained quiet. He was intensely aware of her and
longed to turn over, take her into his arms and hold her but he lay as still as death as
she settled down and eventually stopped fidgeting. Closing his eyes, he concentrated
on listening to her soft breath and inhaling the intoxicating scent of her perfume.
“Good night, Sandy,” she sa
id softly, and when he did not answer, he heard her
deep sigh.
The storm returned with a vengeance an hour later. Cracking sharply across the
heavens, the lightning flared brightly at the porthole and the ping of hail hitting the
glass sounded overly loud in the small cabin. Rumbling ominously, the thunder shook
the very walls and rattled the hanging lamp chain. The wind howled like a banshee and
the ship rolled dangerously from side to side.
He heard her whimpering and—pride and hurt forgotten—turned over to put his
arms around her and draw her to him. She was trembling violently and each time
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Charlotte Boyett-Compo
another loud split of lightning seared the heavens, she jumped, her keening that of a
small child.
“Shh,” he said, smoothing his hand down her hair. “It’s all right. I’m here.”
Violently raging, the storm drove her closer to him until she was wedged so tightly
he felt they had become one. She was panting with fear and he could feel her heartbeat
thudding heavily in her chest, her fingernails digging into his chest.
“It’s all right, love,” he told her over and over again. He pressed a soothing kiss to
her brow.
In the undulating light from the lightning strikes he saw her lift her head. Her green
eyes caught the flare of one pulse of light as she looked up at him.
She clung to him. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“I know.” He kissed her forehead again, her nose and then paused, looking down at
her as the lightning continued to splay against the porthole glass.
It was as though nothing had ever pushed them apart. Slowly, hesitantly, he
lowered his lips to hers, giving her ample time to deny him, to push him away. But she
didn’t. She opened her mouth to him and drew him into the sweetness there.
Groaning, Alsandair claimed her honeyed lips and thrust his tongue against hers—
tasting her, branding her, needing her. His arms tightened around her and he moved
over her, pressing her into the firm mattress. Through the material of her chemise, he
could feel the straining points of her breasts pushing against his chest and he had to
touch that lush globe, had to feel it in the center of his palm. Sliding his hand over her
rib cage, he molded it to her and squeezed lightly, reveling in the feel. He moved his