The Sea Sprite

by Ruth Langan

When she caught sight of Gryf’s face, she pulled Whit aside.

  “What’s wrong with your friend, lad? He looks so sad.”

  The boy shrugged. “He didn’t get the good news he was hoping for.”

  “Good news?”

  “Aye. From the vicar.”

  “The vicar?” She paused. “He went to church?”

  “Aye, Captain. Hoping the vicar might recognize him. It’s why he signed on aboard ship. He hoped that someone, in one of our ports of call, might recognize him and help him find those he left behind.”

  “I see.” And she could see. The pain and disappointment were there in the way he moved, a slow, torturous walk like that of a man deeply wounded. In the way his shoulders slumped. In the way his mouth twisted down into a frown of concentration.

  His crippling pain touched her own heart deeply. It was something she understood completely. Hadn’t the pain of her own loss been nearly overpowering? Hadn’t she dragged herself around for weeks, until this voyage had given her renewed vigor?

  As she walked away she pondered how she could help Gryf rise above his misery. He needed something more than simple, mundane chores. What he needed was a challenge.

  Newton strode across the deck and paused beside her. “I was able to hire on two more crew.”

  “That’s great, Newt. We’ll need every hand in the days to come.”

  “Aye, lass. There’s a good bit of ocean between here and our next port.” He glanced at the line of sailors hauling cargo belowdecks and frowned when he caught sight of Gryf. “The man may not know it yet, but I’d wager a gold sovereign he was a sailor before his accident.”

  Darcy’s brows shot up. “Why do you say that, Newt?”

  “I’ve been watching him. What he does isn’t always thought out. It’s instinctive. It takes a man of the sea to react the way he does.”

  “Then he could be…” The words slipped out before she could stop them. But at Newton’s dark look, she tried to cover it by saying, “That would explain how he knew about Pegasus and Orion and Scorpius. He not only recognized them, but knew the Greek myths behind them.”

  “Most sailors have heard those stories, lass.”

  “But Gray…”

  Newt shook his head. “I’m warning ye, Darcy. This isn’t Gray you’re dealing with. It’s Gryf. Don’t make him something he can’t be. If ye try, two people will be hurt by it.”

  Instead of arguing, she squared her shoulders. “Aye. You’re right, Newt.” She watched as Gryf disappeared into the hold. “I’m thinking that we need another sailor to handle the ship’s wheel during storms. If you think Gryf’s a capable sailor, why not see how he handles the wheel?”

  “Good thinking, lass. I’ll talk to him once we’re underway.” But as Newt walked away, he found himself worried about the lass. How long would it take before she accepted the loss of her childhood love?

  The next hours were spent storing the cargo, and preparing the ship to leave port. By the time the skiff was raised and lashed to the deck, and the anchor hauled, Darcy was high in the rigging. Far below she could see Newton standing beside Gryf, who was handling the wheel.

  For a moment she closed her eyes and conjured an image of Gray, walking toward her across the beach. Gray laughing as he caught her up in his arms and swung her around and around, then slowly lowered her to the ground and brought his mouth to hers.

  Theirs had been a comfortable love. A love that had begun in childhood, and had blossomed slowly. They had always known they were destined for one another. They were kindred spirits. They thought alike, wanted the same things and acted in perfect harmony.

  But had there ever been that all-consuming fire? That heat and flare of passion that had sizzled when Gryf had touched her?

  She couldn’t remember. No matter how hard she tried, Darcy couldn’t recall a single time when she’d felt anything even remotely like what she’d felt in Gryf’s arms. In that single kiss, time had stopped. Her mind had been wiped clean of every single thought. All she’d known, all she’d wanted was him. And it shamed her to admit that she would have given more. It was Gryf who had ended it. If not, she would have been sorely tempted to give in to the passion of the moment and lie with him there in the moonlight.

  She felt a sob tear from her throat at the realization that she had felt more in that one instant with Gryf than she had in all the years she’d known and loved Gray.

  Despite their declarations of undying love, they’d been as pure and chaste as children. They’d kissed. Aye, they’d kissed. And touched. But neither of them had taken it further.

  Had Gray wanted to? she wondered. After all, he had been a man while she was still a mere lass. Had he simply waited, knowing she was too innocent? Or had he been as lacking in passion as she?

  Had they both been fooling themselves, thinking friendship was the same as love? Had they simply gone along all those years because neither of them wanted to hurt the other? She shook her head, overwhelmed by such thoughts. They were too painful to contemplate.

  She’d loved Gray. And he’d loved her. Exclusively. Completely. And the fact that there had been so little passion had more to do with her tender age than any lack between them.

  Wasn’t that so?

  Oh, Papa. Her eyes filled, and she lifted her face heavenward. I feel so lost. So afraid. I fear I’m losing a love I’ve known for a lifetime. And all because of a man who doesn’t even know his own name. Was it love I felt for Gray? And if so, how can I feel such things for another man so soon after losing Gray? Am I being shallow and selfish, wanting something I shouldn’t have? Am I being foolish, thinking I can find in Gryf’s arms what I once found in Gray’s? Oh, Papa. Help me. Please, help me.

  Was it her imagination, or had the clouds parted at that very moment? She looked up to see the beginnings of a golden, glorious sun bursting forth. Darcy blinked, then swallowed back her fears and glanced down at the man standing at the ship’s wheel.

  She was becoming silly and fanciful. He was just another sailor, she reminded herself. A man hired on to help in this voyage. She was still captain of this ship. And captain of her own destiny, as well. Her future wasn’t in the stars or the clouds. And it certainly wasn’t in one man’s hands. Her future would be whatever she chose to make of it.

  For now she would sort out her thoughts, tread carefully. And just to be safe, she would remember to keep some distance between herself and the man who made her so uncomfortable.

  Chapter Six

  “I’ve swabbed the deck, Newt.” Whit wiped a shirtsleeve across his sweaty face. “And helped Fielding with the soup in the galley. He says he won’t be needing me for an hour or more.”

  “That’s fine, lad.”

  “Is there anything else you need me to do?”

  Newton flicked a glance over the lad, who seemed always to be running from one chore to another. “Nay, lad. Ye might ask the others if they need ye’r help.”

  “I was wondering…” Whit clasped his hands behind his back, striving for a careless pose. “Could I climb the rigging? The captain said I could, whenever my chores were finished.”

  Newton glanced up to see Darcy hanging from a rope high above their heads. “Ye’r apt to get dizzy, lad.”

  “Nay, sir. I’ve climbed trees, and even climbed on the roof of our old shed, and never once got dizzy.”

  “This isn’t a tree or a shed, lad. It’s more like a mountain. With the mountain moving beneath ye. A word of warning. There are grown men who can’t climb that high without being sick.”

  “I won’t get sick, Newt. I give you my word.”

  “It’s not a matter of making a promise, lad. Some do, some don’t, is all.” The old man considered for a moment. Then, seeing the pleading look in those puppy-dog eyes, he relented. “All right. But just so’s ye understand, ye must make the climb slowly, so’s ye’r head doesn’t spin. And if ye should feel ye’rself growing dizzy, let the cap’n know at once. She can hold on to you until ye get ye’re
wits about ye.”

  “Aye, sir.” Whit bounded to the rail and climbed it, then grabbed hold of a rope, pulling himself up.

  “Ahoy, Cap’n.” Newt cupped his hand to his mouth to make himself heard. “The lad’s coming up to join ye.”

  “Aye, Newt.” Darcy leaned far over the sails, then catching sight of Whit, danced down the rigging and met him halfway.

  The two began climbing together, with Darcy staying close beside the boy.

  Gryf, standing at the wheel, couldn’t help smiling at the sight of the boy, looking a bit awkward, and the young woman just a step behind him, moving with all the grace of an angel.

  “Ye think he’ll be sick?” Newt asked.

  Gryf shrugged. “There’s no way of knowing until he tries. But I’m glad you gave him his chance, Newt. The lad’s dazzled by our captain.”

  “He’s not the only one, I’m thinking.” Newton turned and pinned him with a fierce look. “I’ve seen ye watching her a time or two.”

  “Aye. Can you blame me?” Gryf met his look without flinching. “She’s enough to dazzle any man.”

  “That she is. But for all her fearlessness, she’s a sweet, innocent lass. Do ye understand what I’m saying?”

  “I understand.”

  The two men stood a moment, each taking the measure of the other. Finally Newt turned away and busied himself with the crew. But each time he glanced over, he could see Gryf looking upward with a look on his face that was pure male appreciation. The very thought had his blood boiling, and his protective instincts rising to the challenge.

  But though it rankled, the old man had to admit to himself that he understood completely. The lass was enough to dazzle even a saint. And from the look in Gryf’s eyes, the man’s thoughts were far from saintly.

  Newt sighed. It was just one more thing he’d have to see to. The lass was a minnow swimming in a pool of sharks, at least where men were concerned.

  “Have you ever been this high before, Whit?” Darcy gripped the rope with one hand, leaving the other free to catch the lad if he should show signs of growing dizzy.

  “Nay, Captain.” He held on for dear life, pausing halfway up the rigging to stare out at the Atlantic spread out before him. “Oh, look how far you can see.”

  “Aye. Sometimes when I’m up here, I think I can see clear across the ocean to distant lands.”

  “Look at Newt down there by the rail.” The boy grinned. “He looks no bigger than a shadow.”

  Darcy laughed. “You’d better not let him hear you say that.”

  “I’ll remember. And there’s Gryf.” Without realizing it the lad’s tone softened.

  “You care about him, don’t you, Whit?”

  “Aye, Captain. He’s my best friend. Without Gryf, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “You mean here on the Undaunted.”

  “I mean here in this life. Without Gryf, I’d surely be dead by now.”

  “But why?” She pulled her gaze from the man far below to stare at the lad who clung to the rigging.

  “When he found me I was more dead than alive.”

  Darcy gasped. “Why, lad? What happened to you?”

  He looked away, afraid to meet her eyes. “I was…beaten.”

  “Do you know who did it?”

  “Aye.”

  “Was this person punished?”

  “Nay.”

  “But why? Surely you went to the authorities and told them what had happened.”

  “Nay.” His voice sounded almost breathless, though she couldn’t tell if it was from the effort of climbing, or because the breeze had caught it and carried it away.

  “Can you tell me what happened, Whit?”

  “Nay, Captain. I’ll not talk about it. To you or to anyone.”

  Darcy could see, by the hard tight set of his mouth, that the boy had no intention of saying more. She thought about the hurt she carried in her own heart. It would be impossible to speak of it without breaking down, and that she would never do. Perhaps it was the same for the lad. Perhaps the feelings he’d locked inside himself were simply too painful to share.

  She said simply, “I’m glad it was Gryf who found you.”

  “Aye.” Whit looked away, then pulled himself a little higher in the rigging. “After my mother died, nobody wanted me. Nobody except Gryf.”

  “And what of the one who beat you?”

  “I lived in fear that I’d be found and beaten again. But Gryf said not to worry. He gave me his word that as long as he was around, nobody would ever lay a hand on me again.”

  “And he’s kept his promise?” Darcy looked far below on the deck, where the man stood holding the wheel steady with those big, competent hands. The same hands that had touched her and held her and made her yearn for more.

  “Aye. Gryf’s a man of his word.” The boy smiled, determined to put the past behind him. “Come on, Captain. I’ll race you to the top.”

  Darcy couldn’t help laughing as Whit scrambled hand over hand until he was at the very top of the rigging. And though his movements were clumsy, it was clear that he was one of those rare sailors who had no fear of heights. In no time, she was certain, this lad would be climbing as easily as she.

  Coming up behind him she pointed. “Land. That would be Scotland, our next port of call.”

  “Scotland.” Whit shook his head. “Who would ever believe I’d sail to such a land?” He turned in a wide arc, studying the dark-blue Atlantic glistening around them. From here it was possible to see for miles in any direction.

  Suddenly he pointed. “What’s that, Captain?”

  Darcy gave a gasp of surprise. “Sweet heaven. I was listening to your tale instead of doing what I came up here to do.” She leaned down and shouted, “Ship with no flag. Coming up on the port side with full sail. Prepare for attack.”

  From far below came Newton’s command. “All hands on deck. Uncover the cannons, mates.”

  Darcy turned to Whit. “We must get below at once. I’ll lead the way. You do exactly what I do. Understand?”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  She moved deliberately, seeing to it that the lad remained just one step above her. If he should make a single misstep, she was prepared to catch him and spare him crashing to the deck below.

  When they had finally descended the rigging, Darcy leapt to the deck and waited until Whit joined her.

  She caught him by the shoulder. “You’ll go below at once, Whit. You’re to close yourself in my cabin and stay there, no matter what.”

  In a rare display of defiance, he put his hands on his hips and faced her. “And miss the battle?”

  “Aye. That’s the plan. Now go.”

  “But, Captain—”

  “That’s an order, Whit. Go below now.”

  He glanced at Gryf and saw the man nod firmly. And though the protest sprang to his lips, he swallowed it down and did as he was told.

  Darcy turned to Gryf. “Which do you prefer? Sword, pistol or knife?”

  “I’ll take a sword.”

  “Aye.” She fumbled among the weapons which a sailor had just deposited on deck and tossed Gryf a sword. Then she tucked a knife in her waist and kept another in her hand.

  Behind her there was a flurry of activity as the cannons were uncovered and moved closer to the ship’s rail. Several members of the crew loaded them with gunpowder and stood at attention, awaiting the orders to fire.

  The pirate ship loomed ever closer, until the men aboard could be seen, crowding the rail. They were a ragged bunch, young and old standing shoulder to shoulder, prepared to toss their ropes.

  There was the acrid smell of gunpowder as the first volley was fired. The Undaunted shuddered as it took a hit to the bow. The crew retaliated with a series of deafening volleys, and the pirate ship took a hit as well. Still it kept coming, until the two ships were close enough to hear the shouts and curses as the pirates began tossing their ropes across the bow and climbing, hand over hand until they landed on the deck of the
Undaunted.

  The captain of the pirates remained safely aboard his own ship, holding the wheel, where he shouted orders to his men.

  As the screaming cutthroats streamed aboard, Gryf took up a position beside Darcy. “You should go below now and join Whit in your cabin, Captain.”

  “You think I’d run and hide, leaving my men to fight alone?”

  “You’re a female.”

  “I’m captain of this ship.” She caught sight of a pirate racing toward them, sword aloft. In one clean movement she tossed her knife, striking the man in the chest.

  He let out a screech of pain and fell to the deck, clutching his chest. As a second pirate took up his sword, Darcy pulled another knife from her waist and dropped him beside his mate.

  While Gryf watched in disbelief she calmly bent down to retrieve her knives, then leapt into battle with several more of the attackers. Shaking his head, Gryf had no choice but to admire her, even as he cursed the fact that she was leaving herself open to danger.

  “Watch your back,” he shouted as he came up behind Darcy and ran his blade through a pirate about to strike.

  Darcy spun around, then seeing what he’d done, shot him a look of gratitude before resuming the fight.

  “Here, lass.” Newton tossed her a sword and she battled a pirate all the way to the rail before managing to drop him.

  When she turned, she caught sight of Gryf engaged in a swordfight with three cursing men. While she watched he dispatched first one, then another. And though the third pirate managed to slice Gryf’s arm, this man soon joined his comrades in a bloody pool.

  Seeing Gryf join Newt in yet another battle, Darcy took in a long, deep breath and realized that she’d been afraid for him. Afraid that he might not know how to handle a weapon while engaged in combat.

  She knew that such fear was a dangerous thing. She couldn’t afford such distractions, but there it was. And though she tried to tell herself it was merely because she felt responsible for all her crew, she knew that to be a lie. Gryf had become a definite distraction.

  “Behind ye, lass.” Newt’s warning had her whirling. Too late, she found herself face-to-face with the tip of a pirate’s blade.