The Sea Sprite

by Ruth Langan

  Gryf sipped his tea and listened in silence. He loved the sound of her voice. Loved the cadence, the rhythm, the inflection. Her laugh was as lyrical as church bells carried on a summer breeze. The mere sound of it lightened his heart, though he knew not why. When she spoke, he could forget about the wind that howled above deck. Could forget about the cold that seeped into a man’s very bones. Could forget the fact that he had no memories of his own childhood. Or of his life before the fire. Her voice reminded him of springtime. Of warm days and gentle nights. Of a fine mist blowing in off the ocean to add the sparkle of diamonds to skin and hair.

  Had he once seen her like that? With mist-dampened hair and laughing eyes? Or was he imagining it?

  A sailor stuck his head in the doorway, causing Gryf to blink away the image.

  “Captain, Newt says it’s your turn to take the wheel.”

  “Aye.” She set aside her tea and started to stand.

  Gryf sprang up, touching a hand to her arm. “Stay here where it’s warm. I’ll take your watch.”

  “Nay.” She brushed aside his hand and hurried out the door, ignoring the warmth where he’d touched her. “I’ll see to it myself.”

  She didn’t want to be beholden to him. It would be far too easy to allow herself to accept his help, and then to look forward to it. She wanted, needed, to stand alone. To make her own way. It was as necessary to her as breathing. She had no intention of allowing any man, especially Gryf, to lull her into a false sense of security.

  “Watch this, Fielding.” Whit held up a tiny scrap of meat and ordered Fearless to sit. At once the puppy squatted down, his tail swishing furiously across the boards of the lower deck.

  In the past few days the increasingly bitter weather had sent the crew belowdecks whenever their watch ended. Along with gambling, the pup had become their main source of entertainment.

  “Roll over, Fearless.”

  The puppy did as he was told, and was rewarded with the meat.

  Whit took up a second scrap. “Fearless, beg.”

  The puppy obediently stood on its hind legs, waiting for a reward.

  “That’s pretty good, lad. Now watch this.” The cook winked at the others, then stomped his foot.

  At once the puppy cowered behind Whit’s leg, sending the crew into spasms of laughter.

  “I think we ought to start calling him Fearful, instead of Fearless. That dog’s scared of his own shadow.”

  “He is not.” Whit picked up the whining pup and cuddled it to his chest. “You just startled him.”

  “Aye. But then a lot of things startle Fearful. The wind. The sails flapping in the wind. Footsteps. He probably cowers at the sound of someone coughing. When is he going to live up to his name, lad?”

  “Give him time.” Whit pressed his face to the pup’s neck, breathing him in. “He’ll learn. Hasn’t he learned not to chew?”

  One of the crew nodded, then added, “It’s a good thing, too, lad, or by now he’d be swimming back to Scotland.”

  The others roared with laughter.

  “And hasn’t he learned to drop his leavings only in his spot?”

  “Aye, now. There’s the best thing he’s learned.” Fielding looked to the others, who laughed and nodded. “It’s a relief to be able to walk the deck at night and not have to worry about what we’ll step in. Eh, mates?”

  While the others chuckled, one grizzled sailor leaned close to whisper, “They’re just having fun with you, lad. They all wish they could have a pet as fine as your Fearless.”

  Whit shot him a smile, before going off to his hammock for the night. As the pup snuggled against his chest, he found himself thinking about the old sailor’s words. Aye. Fearless was his. Only his. Nobody else could ever claim the pup for their own. For he would know, and Fearless would know, that they belonged together.

  It was the most wonderful feeling in the world to have something that belonged only to him.

  He rubbed a hand over the pup’s coat and felt such a welling of love in his heart for this small, helpless creature. And vowed that he’d do whatever it took to keep him safe.

  Newton held the wheel steady as the Undaunted carved a path through the black water. The moon was a thin yellow sliver in the midnight sky. The stars looked as though they’d been carved from ice. An occasional snowflake drifted on the night air, a harbinger of the storm that lay in wait just ahead.

  The old sailor heard the sound of footsteps and turned to see Gryf walking across the deck toward him.

  “Figured ye’d be asleep with the rest of the crew, Gryf.”

  “I slept for a few hours. Now I’m awake, and thought I’d spell you for a while.”

  “I’ll be glad for the break.” The old man blew on his hands, wrapped in a length of wool. “Don’t think I can feel my fingers any longer.”

  “Fielding left a brazier of hot coals in the galley with a pot of soup. That ought to warm you before you go to sleep.”

  “I thank ye.” As he turned over the wheel, the old man saw Gryf glance up to where Darcy hung by one hand at the top of the rigging. Following the direction of his gaze he muttered, “I tried to persuade her to go below and let one of the others take her watch, but ye know the lass. Stubborn, she is. Always has been.”

  “Some might call it dedicated.”

  “Some might.” Newt turned to give him a long look, before walking away.

  Gryf stood listening to the sound of the old man’s peg leg tapping against the wood of the deck. When the footsteps faded, he lifted his head. Darcy had climbed so high she was no longer visible. But he knew she was up there, at the very top of the mast, peering into the darkness, searching for any light that might signal land, or a passing ship.

  A short time later he caught sight of her, halfway down, and moving with all the agility of a dancer. When she landed on the deck she seemed surprised to see him.

  “What happened to Newt?”

  “Nothing. I offered to spell him for a while. I figured it’s too cold tonight for his old bones.”

  “That was nice of you, Gryf.”

  He shrugged off the compliment. “Maybe I had other reasons for wanting him out of the way.”

  She would have laughed, except for the roughness of his tone. She chanced a quick glance at his face, and found him watching her with an intensity that had her heart beating overtime.

  He reached out. Her cold hand was engulfed in his big, warm palm and she felt the surge of heat all the way to her heart. “You’ve been avoiding me, Darcy.”

  “Aye.” There it was again. That sudden jolt, and then the unsteady bumping of her pulse. “And for the best of reasons.”

  He gave her a quick, dangerous smile. “Could one of those reasons be this?” He brought his hand to her throat and his smile grew at the way her heartbeat stuttered.

  “You know it is. Gryf, I don’t think—”

  “There you go again.” He drew her close and pressed his lips to her temple. “Thinking. All I want is to warm you.”

  “Warm?” She tried to laugh, but it came out on a sigh. “One touch and my skin’s on fire.”

  “That’s even better.” He dragged her firmly against him and slipped his hands inside her coat. She knew he could feel the way her breath was already hitching. And when his mouth came down on hers, she couldn’t breathe.

  “I’ve been thinking about this all day.” The words were muttered against her lips. “About you. And the way you’d taste.” He took the kiss deeper until she felt her head spinning and the deck swaying beneath her feet. “I could go on like this for hours.”

  At the moment, she hoped he would. Though she knew it was dangerous, she wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed with the pure pleasure of it.

  “And here I thought the only thing on your mind was the fish you and Whit caught for our supper.”

  “Fishing was just an excuse, so I wouldn’t have to talk. That way I could concentrate on how many ways I could find to be alone with you tonight.”
He changed angles and kissed her again until he felt her sigh and open to him.

  Need was a hard, tight ball in his gut that had him pressing her back against the wheel as he bent to skim his mouth along her throat.

  “Gryf, I—” She shuddered as he parted her coat and brought his mouth to her breast.

  Despite the layers of clothes, she felt her nipple harden. Desire was so quick and unexpected, she had no defense against it. She nearly cried out, but the sound became a low moan of pleasure as his hands moved over her, torturing them both.

  She’d never known anything like the feelings she was experiencing. An ache that started deep inside her, then seemed to curl through her veins, causing the most unexpected yearning. A yearning to lie with him here on the cold, hard deck and let him take her wherever he chose. A desperate, driving desire to touch him as he was touching her. To make him tremble as she was trembling. To make him ache for her as she was aching.

  It never occurred to her to stop. She had no will left. No thought, except to take and give until they were both sated.

  She opened herself to him, letting him taste all the passion, all the hunger. And was rewarded with a low moan as he took them both higher.

  Somewhere in the distant edge of her mind Darcy heard the sound of hurried footfalls. A moment later Gryf muttered an oath against her lips, before drawing the lapels of her coat together and taking a step back. Out of the corner of her eye she caught the blurred image of Whit and Fearless stepping onto the deck.

  “Can you believe it?” the boy called. “Fearless woke me up to let me know he wanted to…drop his leavings on deck.”

  “That’s…good news, lad.” Darcy was surprised at how difficult it was to speak. She was grateful that Gryf continued to keep his hand at her shoulder. Otherwise, she feared, she would probably slip bonelessly to the deck.

  The pup raced off to his favorite place, then returned on the run. The boy cleaned the spot before picking him up and heading toward the steps.

  “Are you coming below, Captain?”

  “Aye. In a moment.”

  When Whit disappeared Gryf drew her close, but this time she kept her hand against his chest to hold him at bay.

  “What’s wrong?” His voice was rough with need.

  “I had a moment to clear my mind. I’m going below with the crew.”

  His hand tightened at her shoulder. “Don’t go, Darcy. The lad’s gone now. Nothing’s changed.”

  “Aye. Something has.” She drew in a deep breath. “I think it’s fortunate Whit came along when he did. It made me realize I’m not ready for this, Gryf.”

  “You seemed ready enough a moment ago.”

  “Aye. Your kisses have a way of doing that to me. But now…” She shook her head. “I’m not ready. Who knows? Perhaps I’ll never be.”

  Without another word she made her way below-decks.

  When he was alone he lifted his face to the sky and gulped in the frigid air until his breathing returned to normal.

  As he counted stars he found himself wondering if his blood would ever cool. Or if this need for her would ever loosen its grip on his heart.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Darcy awoke with a light heart. Newton had said they were only a day away from Cornwall. Another day and she’d be home. Oh, she didn’t know if she’d be able to stand the waiting. She slipped out of bed and dressed quickly, eager for the day to be over.

  On deck, storm clouds layered the sky, blocking the morning sun. Fog settled around the Undaunted like a thick, dark blanket. It was impossible to tell if it was daybreak or dusk. An eerie silence had settled over the Atlantic. No seabirds wheeled and cried overhead. The voices of the sailors aboard ship seemed to bounce back at them whenever they spoke.

  “I don’t like this, lass.” Newton stood at the rail, trying vainly to see through the heavy curtain of frost and mist. “There’s no way to navigate. By the time this fog blows away, we could find ourselves miles off course.”

  “We’ve already lowered the sails. We’re barely moving.”

  “Aye, but the ocean current will keep pulling us, lass.”

  “Should we drop anchor, Newt?”

  He shrugged, deep in thought. “I think it’s best if we keep drifting.”

  “Why?”

  He idly rubbed his leg, feeling the phantom pain that often came when the weather changed. “If we were a pirate ship, lass, this would be the perfect time to attack our enemies. They wouldn’t even see us coming.”

  “But their advantage is also ours, Newt. We could slip past them without even being seen.”

  “Aye.” He paced, turned, paced some more. “But I can feel them, lass. In my bones. They’re close by. I know it.”

  Darcy shivered. She’d always trusted the old man’s instincts. There was no reason to doubt him now. “I could climb the rigging.”

  He shook his head. “’Twould do ye no good. In fog this thick, we’re running blind.”

  “At least we can make it impossible for them to hear us if they’re nearby. Give the order to the crew that they’re to remain silent until this fog lifts, Newt.”

  “Aye, lass.” He nodded and went belowdecks, returning minutes later trailed by a string of silent, somber seamen, who lined the deck, watching and listening.

  But there was only the strange, eerie silence, that seemed to stretch on endlessly. And the slap of waves against the hull.

  Suddenly, without warning, the Undaunted shuddered, sending half its crew tumbling about like puppets. Darcy picked herself up and caught her breath at the sight of a ship’s mast looming over their deck like a ghostly spectre. The pirate ship had rammed them broadside, leaving them crippled and helpless to escape.

  Chaos reigned on deck as Darcy shouted for the crew to uncover the cannons, and to retrieve their weapons and pass them about. Then she went in search of Whit and Fearless. She found them in the galley with Fielding.

  “Lad, take your pup and go to my cabin at once. Lock yourself in. Remain there until I say otherwise.”

  “What’s happened, Captain?” Fielding, retrieving pots that had been tossed around, looked up sharply. “Have we run aground?”

  “Worse. We’ve been rammed by a pirate ship. We need you topside, Fielding. As for you, Whit, go now and do as I say.”

  “Aye, Captain.” The boy picked up the puppy and started out, then paused and turned. “Do you think it’s my uncle’s ship?”

  “I know not, lad. But, no matter what you hear, you’re to stay locked safely in my cabin. Do you hear?”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  She saw the terrified look on his face and her heart went out to the boy. Then she pulled herself back to the task at hand.

  She tucked a knife at her waist and another in her boot, then started up the steps. Even before she reached the deck, she could hear the shrieking, the cursing and shouting, and could make out the shadowy figures of men swinging from ropes across the deck.

  With screams guaranteed to send shivers along their spines, the pirates swarmed across the deck of the Undaunted, cutting down all in their path. Though Darcy’s crew struggled valiantly, they were no match for these cunning, desperate men, who were slashing and cutting, and laughing like madmen with every victory.

  “Watch your back, Darcy.” Gryf’s warning had her whirling just as a sword blade sang past her head.

  In one quick motion she tossed her knife and watched it land in her attacker’s chest. The man gasped and released his hold on his sword as he tried desperately to rid himself of the pain. But it was too late, and he fell to the deck in a pool of his own blood.

  Darcy stepped over him, grabbing up his sword as she did. Seeing Newton dueling with several grizzled pirates, she leapt into the fray to even the score. The two stood back to back, driving the pirates toward the rail. With one quick flash of blade Darcy sent one of the men overboard, and watched the other fall on his own weapon.

  Convinced that he wouldn’t be getting up to fight agai
n, she turned toward the old man. “Can you handle this one, Newt?”

  “Aye, lass. See to Fielding.”

  She turned. The cook was sweating profusely as he tried to fend off the blade of a vicious swordsman. Darcy could see the pirate’s strategy. He intended to back his opponent against the cannon, where the smoke and heat would work to his advantage. Though her crew had loaded and fired their cannon, they’d been caught off guard, with no hope of discharging a volley.

  “Fielding.” She stepped up beside him and saw his look of gratitude.

  “I’ll be—” The pirate gave a laugh of delight. “My mates told me there was a female aboard this ship, but I didn’t believe them.”

  “And now you can boast that you were bested by that same female.” Darcy’s blade flashed and she began slowly driving the pirate across the deck.

  His laughter quickly faded as he tasted her skill. Each time he lunged, she was able to dance aside, avoiding his blade. For every thrust of his weapon, she managed to parry. After several minutes, she bore not a single wound. But the pirate had been cut in half a dozen different places. And the loss of blood was beginning to weaken him.

  “I think it’s time you joined your shipmates.” She brought her blade to his chest, leaving him but two choices. Stay and face certain death, or take his chances on the swirling water.

  He jumped, landing with a cry of desperation in the foaming waves below.

  “Darcy.” When she turned, Gryf leapt to her side to save her from an attacker. But in so doing, he took the blade meant for her. Blood streamed from his shoulder, soaking the front of his tunic.

  Enraged, Darcy drove the swordsman back and ran him through, then turned back in time to see Gryf fighting three more pirates. She rushed to his side and engaged first one, then the other, until both men had fallen. Then she turned in time to see Gryf drop the third man before leaning weakly against the rail.

  “Go below, Gryf.”

  “Not until these cutthroats are routed.”

  “You’re too badly wounded to be of any use. Go below, I say.”