“Oh, you do?” The gall of the man. As if she were one of his crew who would jump to obey whatever order he gave.
“Why not?” Vinsen leaned back against the wall. “I can take care of you and keep you safe. We get along well together and you enjoyed it when I took you to bed.”
“Shh! Someone might hear.”
“Well, if that’s what it takes to make you say yes—”
Maggie sat down, keeping her back straight, and the strings quivered in the opening chords of her favorite concerto.
“—and I love you.”
The music stopped. She wanted to bend her head until her brow rested on the smooth wooden column before her, but that would be a sign of how much his words had affected her. She would have cut the harpstrings rather than hurt him, but she had to tell him the truth.
In the silence, his boots thudded softly on the carpet as he crossed the floor towards her.
“Yes or no, Maggie?” he said.
“It’s not that simple.” She didn’t want to look at him; he was so close now she could smell him. The salty air that clung to his clothes, the freshness of clean linen, the faint scent of his skin. He would have noticed at once if she had shifted restlessly on the bench as she longed to do, so she only pressed her knees together.
“You don’t want to give up your work here?” Vinsen said quietly.
Maybe he understood, thank the Unity, though she didn’t feel particularly grateful. She moved to the other side of the bench to make room for him, and he sat down. They were still too close, their shoulders almost touching, but at least she wouldn’t have to look up at him when she answered.
“Not to go back to what we had before.” She’d had nearly twenty months of nights in her bed alone to think through what she needed, though that didn’t make it any easier to say the words. “If we did that, I’d be happy for a while. Maybe for a long time. But I like my life here, Vinsen, and I’d rather not be a nonpaying passenger on your ship again. I know you’re a generous man, but I don’t want to always turn to you for a handout when I need money of my own.”
He had been half-turned on the bench, watching her as she spoke, and when she finished one corner of his mouth twitched. As if he’d smiled inwardly, to himself, and that was the only flicker of it which showed on his face.
“You know, that’s what most wives did in the past,” he said. “A lot of women are still happy with that kind of arrangement.”
“Then go marry one of them.”
Vinsen laughed. She’d forgotten how his face changed when he did that, all the barriers going down in genuine, relaxed enjoyment. No wonder he did it so rarely. A trace of the amusement remained in his eyes when he replied.
“I almost forgot how much fun it was to fence with you,” he said.
“You may be having fun, but I’m not.” He didn’t seem to have understood any of what she’d said, which didn’t help her mood. “I enjoyed being with you, but as wonderful as that was, it’s not enough. Besides, I have a future here.”
He was serious again at once. “And you don’t with me?”
“Well, you said it was going to be your last voyage. I’m guessing you like Fallstar a little better than you did before, and the crew respects you now, but I can’t see you making short-haul cargo runs for the rest of your life.”
Vinsen nodded. “Just as I can’t see you whiling away the time in my cabin—I mean, our cabin—until I complete my duties and join you for supper.”
“Exactly.” Maybe he did understand, but in that case he knew how wide was the divide between them. “So there’s nothing more to be said.”
He reached for her hand, his strong fingers and callused palm against her skin. “Will you miss me?”
There was a catch in her throat, and she forced herself to speak past it. “Of course.”
He raised her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles, in the kind of farewell kiss he could have given her in the parlor downstairs without arousing too much attention. It was arousing enough already, just looking at his dark head bent over her hand, his mouth warm on her skin. Buried in the folds of her dress, her other hand clenched to stop trembling. She didn’t know how she could sit there and watch as he walked out of her life. He was hers, as much as she was his.
I don’t have a choice.
His breath tickled her, and a shiver raced up her arm. Then he lifted his head slightly, but it was only to turn her hand over. His mouth found the center of her palm.
That time, the kiss wasn’t warm, much less restrained. His tongue flicked her palm before he moved to the inside of her wrist, teeth closing on the edge of dark lace to peel it back. She had a sudden, dizzying vision of him doing the same with the rest of her clothes, and a jolt went through her. It unsteadied her completely, and she couldn’t so much as make a sound in protest as he kissed her bare wrist.
The tip of his tongue traced a pattern over her skin, and when he blew softly on her wrist, the air felt shockingly cold. She bit back a whimper. Without releasing her hand, Vinsen raised his head and smiled.
“I know what you smell of now,” he said. “Sandalwood. Because we took on a cargo of that, and I couldn’t step into the hold without wanting you.”
His arm went around her, drawing her against him, and the world went dark and swirling as her eyes closed involuntarily. His mouth came down on hers. Hard, opening, another shock to the senses when she felt his tongue again, so much more intimate now. He tasted and teased, then drew her lower lip into his mouth.
She couldn’t stop herself from tilting her head for him, kissing him back. Her free hand came up to grasp his arm, and muscles tensed beneath rough cloth before her fingers slid up and into his hair.
He released her mouth. Her eyes flew open but before she could collect herself, he kissed her throat, taking her flesh between his teeth in a nip that made her gasp. Her hips jerked, but if he felt that, he gave no indication of it. Only explored her down to the join of her neck and shoulder, his mouth leaving a throbbing wake behind.
When he bent her backward to lower his head to her breasts, she felt as though she was falling, except for his arm around her like a ship’s rail. She couldn’t do anything except hold on to him, a moan trapped in her throat, as her nipples stiffened under his kisses. He wasn’t even sucking them, only mouthing in soft dry sips, plucking them, strumming her as if she were just another instrument.
The thought of that reminded her where she was. Not in the privacy of his cabin, in his bunk, but in a music room at the Academy, the windows open to throw glowing oblongs of light on the carpet. She struggled upright.
Vinsen let go of her wrist, but it was only to slip his arm beneath her knees. Before she knew it, he had lifted her onto his lap, and even through layers of cloth, she could feel he was as hard as the column of the harp behind her. None of her carefully thought-out farewell speeches had taken into account the prospect of being pleasured on a music bench.
“Vinsen—” She was breathing as though she’d run up all the stairs, which didn’t help her speak. “This isn’t the time or the place—”
His eyes were so intensely blue she could have drowned in them. “I’d want you if we were at the top of Skybeyond. And as for the time…” He touched her hair, coiling a stray curl around his finger. “Maggie, we made love before when we thought we would never see each other again. If that’s going to happen now—”
If? There was no if about it. She had to watch him walk out of the room, out of her life forever, and this was her last chance to feel him touching her, suckling her, thrusting hard inside her. This was her last chance to show him how much she loved and wanted him.
To hell with everything, she thought and cupped his face in her hands, feeling the hard jawbones and tense muscles, his skin ever so slightly rough beneath hers. She turned his face up to hers and their mouths met, melded. Her tongue wen
t deep into his mouth.
He groaned, the sound vibrating up through his throat, and locked his arm around her tightly as he kissed her back. His other hand pulled her skirt and petticoats up to her waist. Strong fingers circled her leg, then slid up over the silk that hugged her thighs. In the warmth of the season she hadn’t worn stockings, but now she found herself wishing she hadn’t worn drawers either.
Not that that made any difference. One wrench and they whispered down her legs. She kicked them off, then braced herself with her hands on Vinsen’s shoulders and moved to straddle his thighs. The leather of the music bench felt cool beneath her bare knees, but it was the only thing in the room that didn’t seem close to igniting.
She couldn’t get enough of kissing him, of filling her senses with the feel and taste of his mouth, but she drew away just enough, gasping. There was so much more of him that she wanted to remember for the rest of her life, to touch as if it were for the first time. She rubbed her cheek against the slight hollow of his in a catlike caress, and kissed the uneven ridge of his nose before she bent her head to nuzzle his throat. When she bit him there, he jerked against her.
“Undo my trousers, Maggie,” he said.
The words were a command, but she would have obeyed them anyway. Her dress was bunched up around her waist, between them, and her hands fought their way blindly down past layers of material, searching until her fingers found the hot, rigid shape of his erection. The swollen size of him made her tremble, brought an answering heat throbbing between her spread thighs.
Vinsen shuddered as she stroked him through his clothes, every muscle in his body locked taut and his eyes intent on her. A pulse hammered in his throat. Then she returned to unfastening the buttons, pulling the cloth open. His hot, hard flesh pushed against her fingers, and for the first time, she wanted to feel it in her mouth as well.
He pulled her hands away, and before she could react he slipped his fingers beneath the skirts bunched up between their bodies. His palm slid between her thighs, cupping her. She didn’t know how he found his way there so easily, but in the next moment his fingers were opening her even wider than she was already open, probing her, rubbing and playing with her, and she couldn’t think any longer. Only rock against his hand, moaning softly.
“That’s it, Maggie.” His voice was rougher now.
Her skin prickled all the way up the backs of her thighs. She hung on the cusp, and then his fingers were gone. Instead was something better, his cock sliding deep into her.
The sunlight splintered, the room was gone. The wild sounds she made were muffled by his mouth, and he swallowed her cries, drinking them in, his hands melded to her hips as he kept driving into her, stretching her climax out. He thrust ruthlessly, the strong strokes slickened by fresh surges of her wetness, and she clung to him as the only solid thing in a world that was coming apart, bearing her through an unbearable pleasure until he buried his face in her shoulder and his groan of release in her skin.
She felt a hot fluid rush deep within her and her body went limp, drained, sagging against him.
Everything was dark behind her eyelids as the pieces of reality slowly came back together. Vinsen turned his head so his cheek rested on the bare skin above the neckline of her dress. His breath tickled her throat when he sighed, but he didn’t seem inclined to move either.
With the last of her strength she tried to commit it all to memory—the scent and taste of him, the uncontrolled sounds he made when he came, the feel of him inside her. That would have to be enough for a long time. Then she raised her head and looked down at him.
His mouth was as well kissed as her lips felt, and his gaze drowsy with the aftermath of their lovemaking, but he blinked and the cool control came back into his eyes. Gently he lifted her off. Her legs were shaky, and she caught at the harp for support as he set her down on her feet. Unity, she wouldn’t be able to practice in this room again, ever.
Vinsen picked up her drawers and Maggie took them from him quickly, bending to slip them on as he stood and buttoned his trousers. She ran her palms down the creases in her dress. That did little to smooth them out, any more than it stopped the slight clenches still throbbing through her inner flesh or the slickness between her thighs.
“Do you want to come down to the docks to see me off?” Vinsen said.
Her head came up at that, incredulously, but he looked back at her as if he’d asked whether she preferred chicken or fish for supper. “It wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“You owe me that much.”
“I owe you?” That was so outrageous she could barely reply. If he said she owed him for the sex, she would throw the music stand at him.
He straightened his coat. “For covering your mouth just now. I thought of letting you scream, because I quite like hearing that and I’m sure this room has excellent acoustics, but—”
“Fine.” She knew how determined he could be, and she didn’t feel like arguing. Especially since he hadn’t been able to change her mind about staying in Lyrance, she could afford to relent on a smaller matter. Besides, she could see the crew. She liked Joama and Dray and Cutwater, even if she was getting a little less fond of the captain. “As long as you don’t try to drag me into a secluded corner and have your way with me again.”
“Not unless you ask me.” Vinsen held the door open, but had the good sense not to offer her his arm as she led the way down the stairs. The echo of a chorus drifted from below, and a maid was busy polishing the banister—normal sights and sounds that helped make her feel a little steadier as they left.
She thought fleetingly of the long walk to the docks and her kidskin shoes, but a carriage waited outside the gates. Vinsen helped her up and climbed in. Hooves and wheels clattered away over the cobblestones.
“You like living here, don’t you?” he said.
That seemed a safe topic of conversation, and she didn’t mind telling the truth. “Yes. More than I expected to.”
He nodded, as if she’d just confirmed something he had suspected. “You’re adaptable. That’s good.”
What was that cryptic remark supposed to mean? Maggie had no intention of asking him, so she sat in silence as the carriage navigated the crowded streets clustering the harbor. The sky was busy too, filled with seabirds and smoke and sails, the air thick with fish and spices. The driver weaved expertly between barrows and buildings, then stopped at the docks.
Maggie climbed down. She heard the clink of coin, but the sound was almost drowned out by everything else. Bells rang, sails flapped in the wind and the rumble of steam engines below it all was like millstones grinding together. Everyone seemed to be talking too, shouting to each other, snapping commands, calling out to customers. Compared to the quiet order of the Academy, this was a market on a feast day, and yet it was like stepping into warm, knee-deep waves that tugged at her, coaxing her to step in further. Or swim.
When the carriage rolled away, she turned, but it was too late. Vinsen had paid the man, so naturally he was gone. Well, either Vinsen would pay for her return journey or she’d walk. Setting her shoulders back, she looked around for a ship she recognized.
“Where’s Fallstar?” She wondered why the carriage hadn’t simply stopped near the ship. Half Moon was a large harbor; it would take them at least an hour to reach the other side.
“Heading for Sweet Harbor,” Vinsen said. “If I know Captain Kley.”
“What?”
“I had one final run after she was refitted. Then Joama got the promotion she deserved and the ship was turned over to her.”
“But what about you?” And he’d never said a word. She wondered what other surprises he planned to spring on her.
“This way.” He held out an arm, and she took it as he led the way. The docks were none too clean, but for once she wasn’t worried about the state of her shoes. Vinsen stopped before a ship, and she looked up at it.
It dominated the docks, standing sleekly out from among the fishing trawlers and freighters, and not just because of a coat of paint that might have been applied that morning. Brass rails gleamed, and great smokestacks rose into the sky, stays running from them to the rest of the ship. There had to be at least two decks beneath that, she thought.
“High Eastward,” she said, glancing at the ship’s hull. She wanted to be happy for Vinsen, but she was puzzled about the ship’s function, because she couldn’t see him being delighted with another cargo carrier. “Not a warship or a freighter, is she?”
“No. A new kind of ship, for a new purpose. You know the islands have been scoured? People want to colonize them now, and this ship will carry them there. Except she’s not just a passenger ship, because she’ll take Dagran naturalists and antiquarians to explore the islands too.”
That explained the name, since the ship would be traveling into the sunrise. Her spirits lifted as if buoyed up by the wind. The journey to the docks had been worth it, and she knew Vinsen would love the challenge of sailing into waters so recently ruled by pirates.
“That will be much more interesting for you.” She tightened her grip on his arm, which was all the embrace she could give him in public.
He smiled. “Not to mention profitable for the Admiralty. A lot of those scholars and scientists are, if not wealthy, used to some level of ease and luxury, so no cobwebby cabins for them. They can afford pleasant living quarters and entertainment in the evenings.”
Maggie felt the answering smile drain off her face. If that was why he’d insisted she come down to the docks with him… But she didn’t want her hopes raised by hints. “What kind of entertainment?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe a juggler. Those are always amusing.”
She dropped his arm and pointed to the edge of the dock, beyond the pilings where the mooring ropes were tied. “Step over there, would you? Because if you keep teasing me, I’ll do something amusing too.”
“All right.” Vinsen raised his hands, but he still looked as though he was enjoying himself entirely too much. “I’ve been authorized to hire a musician to join the crew. Someone with a wide repertoire, a selection of instruments and a good voice. Someone who enjoys life at sea, obeys orders, will play for the passengers every evening and is well groomed enough to suit the ship. Interested?”
The Coldest Sea Page 27