Tears of the Sea

by Marylu Tyndall

  The men looked to Savion who shook his head. “No, we don’t fight them now.”

  “How dare you?” A shriek blared from the bar, where the woman Verrad had been speaking to slapped him across the face and stomped away. Verrad shrugged at the chuckling bystanders, then headed toward the table and plopped in a chair beside Savion.

  “Excellent work, Verrad.” Hona snickered. “It’s difficult to insult a barmaid.”

  The dark-haired man lifted his drink. “I’m misunderstood is all.”

  Hona cocked a brow. “Your good looks only go so far, Verrad.”

  He grinned. “Usually far enough.”

  Nuto turned to Savion. “Where are we headed next, Captain?”

  “Wherever we are needed.” Savion scanned the tavern, sensing unease. “I will know soon enough. In the meantime, we should inquire of the merchants if there are goods in need of transport. We are short on funds.”

  “How is it you always know when someone is in trouble?” Hona leaned forward.

  “A gift, I guess. A sense.” Reaching inside his shirt, Savion pulled out his amulet and held it tight.

  In the back corner, two men argued drunkenly over spilt rum. One of the Malum warriors pushed back his chair and approached the men, a scowl on his face. His cohort followed, plucking a knife from his belt.

  Petrok growled. “Should we put them in their place, Captain?”

  “It’s their job to cause trouble, Petrok. But only for those who seek it. Let these be.” Savion shifted in his seat and glanced out the window. “Something else is afoot this night.”

  The sensation began when he’d first awoke on the island. It had grown stronger on the ship. He thought it would surely disappear once he arrived at Hoffnung, but it had only increased. The amulet warmed.

  Nuto’s brows drew together. “What is it, Captain?”

  One of the Malum slugged the man while the other held a knife to his friend. The table fell with a thunk, sending mugs crashing to the floor.

  “Let’s go.” Savion stood. His men shoved their drinks aside and rose with him. Outside the tavern, he ordered all but Hona and Petrok to return to the ship as his uneasiness grew—a urging within that tugged and pulled until he obeyed. He never knew when these senses would hit or where they would take him. Perhaps into a battle with a horde of Malum, or maybe feeding a small child abandoned in the street.

  Night dropped an inky curtain on the scene as he walked down the sandy street, focusing inward for direction. Upon the bay, mist slithered across the dark water, twisting and turning beneath the milky light of a moon.

  A woman screamed.

  ♥♥♥

  If there was one thing about being human Perdita hated, it was being helpless. Especially against lecherous swine like the two men skulking her way. In the sea, she was as strong as a crustacean, as powerful as a whale, and as sleek as a dolphin. She could leap twenty feet in the air and then plunge to the seabed within seconds. All the creatures of the sea bowed to her. All save the sharks, and even those she had defeated. These particular land sharks, however, were another story. Though she was immortal, or mayhap because of it, she felt pain—intensely. In fact, all her feelings were heightened during her month on land.

  Grabbing a palm frond from the sand, she covered herself as the two men sauntered toward her.

  “Come ’ere, little missy. We won’t do ye no harm,” one of them slurred, his rum-putrefied breath wafting toward her.

  “Back off, gentlemen. I have a dagger.” She hoped they were too drunk to wonder where she could possibly have hid it.

  The other man’s belch preceded a disbelieving snort.

  Wind whipped sand up to sting her bare legs as the thundering crash of waves surely would drown out her screams.

  “Now, don’t play ’ard to get, missy. Ain’t no other reason fer ye to be in sich condition, save that ye saw us handsome gents and wanted to play.”

  Perdita couldn’t help her nervous laugh. Casting a glance over her shoulder to the copse of trees, she retreated a step. “Perchance rum has distorted your vision, you salacious prigs, for I doubt even a dog in heat would find you appealing.”

  She knew she shouldn’t have insulted them, but once again, her tongue overstepped its bounds. Both men pounced on her. Dropping the palm frond, she elbowed one in the gut while twisting the other man’s arm. The first bent over, groaning, while the other yelped in pain. Perdita made a dash for the jungle. Grunts and curses followed her. Fingers clamped her ankle, and she slammed face-first into the sand. Pain smashed through her head and across her chest. Her vision swam.

  The man dragged her backward. Sand ground into her face and crawled up her nose. The man flipped her over. She jerked her feet from his grip, shoved one in his groin, then leapt up and snatched the frond. While the other man was laughing at his friend, she plucked the sword from his scabbard.

  “Huh?” He spun to face her. This time to the point of a blade. The moon broke through a cloud, and despite his predicament, the man licked his lips as his gaze scoured over her. Spitting sand from her mouth, she shoved the tip of the sword harder into his chest.

  Boots shuffled. Dark forms approached. Zost! How many men must she fight off tonight?

  “What goes on here?” The tallest of the men burst into view, the chime of his sword being drawn ringing across the shore. The two men with him followed his lead.

  Still groaning, the man Perdita had kicked straightened and faced the intruders. The other one pulled back and spat into the sand. “What’s it to ye? Begone. We saw ’er first.”

  Perdita stepped into the shadows. She still had the sword, but mayhap she wouldn’t have to use it. When these wolves began their dance for dominance, ’twould be easy to slip away.

  “Saw her first, did you?” The tall man mocked. “Which gives you what claim on her?”

  That voice. So familiar.

  One of his friends stepped forward and gestured toward the sword in Perdita’s hand. “Seems the lady has things well in hand, Savion.” He chuckled.

  Savion! Perdita smiled at her good fortune.

  “She was playin’ ’ard to get is all.” The man she’d kicked drew a pistol and pointed it at the intruders. “Now git. Go find yer own entertainment.”

  Savion cocked his head. “Are you going to shoot all three of us with but one shot?”

  “No.” He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, then swung his pistol toward Perdita. “Just her.”

  Silence, save the crash of waves, thickened the air. The shot would hurt. She’d found that out the hard way. It would bore into her flesh and cause her agony for days.

  Oddly, only silence answered the fiend. An intimidating silence.

  The pistol wavered in the man’s hand. “If’n ye care so much ’bout this wench, leave us be, an’ I promise ye can have ’er next.”

  “How kind of you.” Savion replied with calm assurance. Moonlight glinted off steel as he swung his sword and knocked the pistol from the man’s grip, shoving him to the sand, and then swept the blade to the other man’s neck. Startled, the drunk tumbled backward to join his friend.

  Both of them scrambled to rise and darted into the darkness.

  While Savion sheathed his sword, his two friends approached her. “Are you all right, miss?”

  They halted, eyes widening. She leveled her sword at them as one of them gulped and looked away and the other grinned.

  “She’s naked,” the grinning, dark-haired one said, never taking his eyes from her.

  “Then turn your backs!” Savion commanded. They obeyed as he cautiously approached her, took one glance, then turned aside. “You have no need of your weapon. You are safe with us. Are you harmed?”

  Abbas’s luck be hers! So it was true. Here was a man willing to risk his life for others—even strangers. She gave a breathless sigh, adding a tremble to her voice. “I am unharmed, thanks to you, kind sir.”

  Keeping his eyes averted, he removed his cloak and flung it over her s
houlders. She dropped the sword to the ground and clutched the edges of the robe together, staring at him and wondering how any man could possess such self-control. Even his two friends both risked peeks from the distance. Normally, she found the attention flattering, but when she glanced back at Savion, unusual shame settled on her. What he must think of her!

  “Those sailors stole my attire. I shudder to consider what they would have done if you hadn’t come along.”

  “Is there somewhere safe we can escort you?” Savion asked.

  Clouds parted, freeing a shaft of moonlight upon his face and glinting off the medallion hanging around his neck. Yes. ’Twas him. Same strong jaw, same regal light-brown hair and golden eyes. Though she hadn’t realized how tall he was, nor how much his presence affected her, now that he was conscious.

  She didn’t want to hope. She hated hope. But somehow … somewhere deep within her, she couldn’t help wondering if Savion was the one she’d waited for all these years.

  “I have nowhere to go,” she finally said. “But ’tis none of your concern. I thank you for your kindness.” Kneeling to retrieve the sword, Perdita turned to leave.

  “Wait.” His command spun her around.

  “I can hardly leave you alone in such a dangerous town, miss. Surely you have lodging nearby? How did you end up on this beach alone and without your …”

  Was that a blush creeping up his neck? How fascinating. “Clothing?” She rescued him. “I told you, those men stole it. But ’tis a long story, and one I shan’t bore you with.”

  He gave her an assuring smile. “I will pay for your lodging. And if you are in need of employment, I know the proprietor at the milliner’s shop.”

  Nay! This would not do. How could she make the man fall in love with her if she were in some stuffy shop making hats and he was out at sea?

  “How very kind of you,” she replied sweetly.

  “Then, it’s settled. Come. The innkeeper’s wife can find you some decent attire as well.” He waved her forward, but when she didn’t move, he gently took her elbow.

  Desperate, she did the only thing she could think to do. She pretended to faint.

  Chapter 6

  Though her voice bore no trembling, the poor lady had no doubt been overcome by fear. What lady wouldn’t in the threat of such a brutal attack? Breaking her fall, Savion hoisted her in his arms, ensuring the cloak she wore remained closed. Now, what to do with her? He couldn’t very well leave her unconscious in an inn. Such an unprotected beauty would not go unnoticed. And she was a beauty, undeniable now that he carried her into the full moonlight. Waves of raven hair spiraled across her shoulder to her waist. Plump coral-colored lips, lashes full and lush fanning across creamy cheeks. Great. Just what he needed.

  On board his ship, he laid her on the bed in his cabin. She moaned.

  “Are we going to keep her, Captain?” Hona asked, excited as a child receiving a new toy.

  “Wonder where she came from.” Petrok drew close to examine her.

  “She stays only until she recovers.” Savion laid a blanket over her just in case the cloak slipped open. “Call Haddeus to examine her.” The aged man was the closest thing to a surgeon Savion had, but perhaps he could revive her. The sooner the better, for then Savion could return her to town.

  Beauty had fooled him once. It would not do so again.

  Though he had to admit, he was a bit more than curious about this particular beauty. After ordering Petrok and Hona to their duties, Savion took a seat beside Haddeus as he checked the lady’s vitals. There was something familiar about her—flashes in his mind of dark hair, excruciating pain, and her comely face hovering over him. No. He rubbed his tired eyes. Surely he would have remembered meeting such a woman.

  Haddeus packed his medical bag and rose. “I see nothin’ wrong with her, Captain. I’d let her sleep if I was you. Sometimes shock does this to a person, knocks ’em out for a while.”

  Thanking him, Savion saw him to the door. Then raking back his hair, he faced the lady.

  “Father, what am I to do? Is this some sort of test?”

  He had hoped he was done with tests and trials. He had hoped that he had saved enough people, regained enough enemy territory to be called home again. Ah … Nevaeh. He sighed. How he dreamt of its crystalline streams and flowered fields—painted in colors so vivid they made even the turquoise sea pale by comparison—its ivory castles and majestic halls, its regal ceremonies and lavish festivals. And the people: honorable, kind, good. So different from the Kingdom of Erden—the land of the Ancient Seas, where Savion now lived.

  His father would call him home when Savion was ready—when he had rescued the person or thing he’d been sent to save. In the meantime, Savion would further the kingdom and do all he could to quell the rebellion.

  And he would not fail again by trusting a beautiful woman.

  Pulling up a chair, he made himself as comfortable as possible and tried to sleep. His two years in Erden had taught him to trust no one, and he refused to leave this woman alone in a cabin filled with valuables for the taking.

  Yet instead of stealing, she tossed and turned and mumbled in her sleep. Names such as Forwin and Ivan and a host of others spoken with such heartache and pain, they formed a lump in Savion’s throat. He reached for her more than once, wanting to offer comfort, but always halted for fear of frightening her.

  By the time sunlight broke through the stained glass of the stern windows, exhaustion weighed heavy on Savion. He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the woman, her hair a tangle of wild black around her head, her cheeks pink, her breathing heavy and deep.

  At least one of them had gotten some sleep.

  Rising, he tugged on the bell pull to ring for coffee, a drink he’d grown quite fond of since he’d been living in Erden. Within minutes, Bart entered with a tray of the hot liquid, along with fresh biscuits.

  The short, bull-like sailor peeked at the woman before setting the tray on Savion’s desk. “Have a pleasant evening?” His tone taunted.

  “Actually, I hardly slept.” Savion poured coffee into his pewter mug, then at Bart’s teasing grin, he added hastily, “Not for the reason you’re thinking.” He sipped the coffee. Black, strong, and bitter, just the way he liked it. No cream or sugar, though he saw Bart had included them on the tray for the lady.

  “You think of everything, Bart. Thank you.”

  The man’s smile revealed two missing teeth. “Can I get you anything else, Captain?”

  “I do have an odd request.” The woman stirred, drawing Savion’s gaze. “A gown, a bodice, underthings. Whatever it is women wear these days.”

  Bart scratched his thick graying hair. “Women’s clothes, eh? I’ll do my best.”

  “I know you will. And be quick about it. I want to put her ashore as soon as possible.”

  ♥♥♥

  The delicious smell of coffee lured Perdita from her sleep. The sound of male voices kept her eyes shut, but the last statement from Savion sent her heart racing. What sort of man wants to get rid of a beautiful unclad woman? None she had ever encountered. She needed to act. And act fast. After the servant left, she let out a tiny moan and began to stretch. She moved her body as alluringly as possible—knowing the man was no doubt gaping at her.

  Ready to continue her seduction, she opened her eyes.

  He was staring out the window, sipping his coffee.

  Frustrated, she moaned again and propped herself up on one elbow, allowing the blanket to slip over her bare shoulder. “Oh my!” She feigned a fearful tone. “Who are you? What am I doing here?”

  Savion turned, set down his coffee, and approached slowly. “Never fear, miss. You are safe. No one will harm you here.”

  Perdita intended to continue her fearful theatrics, if only to lure the man closer, but the sight of him basked in sunlight held her tongue. Handsome wasn’t a word she’d use to describe him, though he had a strong jaw and a well-shaped nose. Thick hair the color of bronze threaded with gol
d fell to shoulders that spanned wide and strong on a tall sturdy body clad in leather and linen. Powerful, commanding, masculine … those were words she would use to describe him. With a presence that was both unsettling and peaceful at the same time. She actually might be frightened save for the look in his eyes—the golden color of a warm fire, yet filled with such kindness and wisdom, she felt herself drawn into them.

  Glancing down, she gasped. “What have you done with my clothes? Zost! What have you done with me?” Feigning horror, she clutched the cloak, leapt from the bed, and backed away from him.

  He made no move toward her, merely stared at her with enough assurance to calm a raging storm. “Nothing, I promise. We rescued you from those ruffians on the beach. Don’t you remember?”

  She glanced around the cabin, spacious for a ship, its dark mahogany furniture regal and masculine like its captain. She hadn’t realized he was the captain of the ship when she’d nursed him back to health. “Vaguely, yes,” she replied. “Thank you for your rescue. ’Twas beyond terrifying.” She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and allowed the cloak to slip once again off her shoulder.

  He turned away and gestured to a tray on his desk. “My man is fetching you some proper attire. In the meantime, help yourself to coffee and biscuits, miss … miss ….”

  “Perdita. Perdita Mulier.”

  “Miss Mulier.” He smiled, faced her, saw her bare shoulder, and turned away again. “I shall leave you for now. When you are properly attired, I will escort you ashore.” He started for the door.

  She knew she should try to stop him, but her eyes fastened on the food. Hurrying toward it, she shoved a sweet biscuit into her mouth and poured herself some coffee, plopping in chunks of sugar—several in fact. “Mmm.” She bit off a piece of the biscuit and allowed it to roll about her mouth. “Have you ever tasted anything so delicious?” A sip of rich, sweet coffee nearly sent her into ecstasy.

  Savion halted and was staring at her oddly.

  “Forgive me. I don’t often get such fine fare.” She set down the cup but slipped the rest of the biscuit into her mouth.