Instead of stepping back a pace, he startled her by stepping closer to breathe her in. “Your hair smells like the sea.”
Her fingers tightened on the wheel and she kept her gaze straight ahead, determined not to make too much of this. “We all smell of the sea.”
“Nay. You smell like—” he pressed his face to her hair, sending a series of tremors along her spine “—a cool clear pond on a hot summer day. All fresh and clean and pure. And there’s a hint of—” he breathed, paused, sending her pulse rate streaking upward “—the perfume of flowers from some exotic island carried across the sea. That’s it. Somehow, you manage to smell both simple and exotic.”
She started to step back. “You musn’t…”
He lifted a handful of her hair and watched through narrowed eyes as the strands sifted through his fingers. “I knew it would feel like this. As soft and silken as water spilling over a dam. Did you know that when you’re climbing the rigging, your hair rivals the sun?”
“Gryf…” She was gripping the wheel with both hands, afraid that if she let go she would surely fall to the deck. Her legs were trembling. Her heart stuttering with each touch of those big work-worn hands.
“I watch you, flitting high among the sails like a little yellow bird. I try not to watch, but it’s impossible to look away. You’re—” he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him “—absolutely mesmerizing.” He lifted a hand to her cheek. “And though I have no right, I must do something I’ve longed to do from the first time I laid eyes on you.”
As he lowered his face to hers her heart stuttered again, then began racing until she could hardly breathe. Sweet heaven, he was going to kiss her. What was worse, she was going to permit it. There was no way she could stop herself.
It occurred to her that she could issue a command in that stern voice she had perfected. A command that would have him backing all the way to the ship’s rail. But she spoke not a word as his lips hovered over hers.
His mouth found hers and her mind was wiped clean of every thought save one. She had never in her life been kissed like this. At first it was the merest brush of mouth to mouth. Then, as he gradually deepened the kiss, his tongue found hers, dueled, and sent heat spiraling all the way to her toes.
Somehow her arms found their way around his neck, though she couldn’t recall moving. With an animal sound low in his throat he changed the angle of the kiss. All she could do was hold on as his lips moved over hers with a thoroughness that had her trembling.
This was no sweetheart’s kiss, all soft and hesitant. This was a plundering—a taking—by a man filled with a deep, abiding hunger. With lips and teeth and tongue, he took her on a wild ride that left her breathless. He framed her face with his hands and stared down into eyes that were wide with surprise and alarm.
“You taste as sweet, as exotic, as you smell. The way I’ve always imagined a mermaid would, if she were to lure me to her hidden palace far beneath the sea.”
“I’m—” she struggled for control “—no mermaid, Gryf.”
“Nay. You’re far better. Flesh and blood. And so tempting I have to have one more taste.”
He bent to her. And though she knew better, she couldn’t seem to stop herself. She stood on tiptoe to offer what he wanted.
Their mouths met, trembled, then came together with all the flash and fury of a thunderstorm.
Gryf knew he’d overstepped his bounds. But he knew just as certainly that he couldn’t stop now that he’d started. The taste of her, the feel of her in his arms, had his heart thundering, and his willpower crumbling.
Still, he had to try to do the right thing. One last kiss, he promised himself as he lingered over her lips, thrilling to the way she sighed and clung. One last kiss and he’d walk away. But the lure of those lips was too much for him. He would gladly lose himself in the sweetness of this woman, and never stop until they were both sated.
He knew, by the way she kissed him, that she was an innocent. He knew, too, that he’d taken her too far, too fast.
Calling on every ounce of strength he could muster, he lifted his head and took a step back, breaking contact.
For the space of several moments they stood very still, their breathing ragged, their heartbeats thundering.
After several deep draughts of air he met her look. “I’m sorry I interrupted your solitude, Captain Lambert. But I’m not sorry for what just happened.”
Now that she had her wits about her, she felt a rush of remorse for what she’d just done. How could she be so disloyal to Gray’s memory?
Seeing the quick smile that tugged at his lips she felt her temper rising. “Be careful, seaman, or you could find yourself swabbing the deck for the rest of our voyage.”
His smile deepened, and she felt a tiny thrill of alarm. It was so like another’s smile. “If so, it will be worth whatever punishment you deem necessary. And now, let me give you fair warning, Captain Lambert. If the opportunity presents itself again, I’ll do the same.”
He turned away. “I’ll leave you to your solitude now. Good night, Captain.”
Darcy watched as he descended to the crew’s quarters. Then she lifted her head and watched the path of a shooting star.
Grandpapa had always said it was the perfect time to make a wish. But she found herself torn. Until this moment, her one, her only wish would have been for the return of Gray. Now she found herself wishing that the mysterious Gryf could somehow become her lost love. For his kisses were far more potent that any she’d ever shared with her childhood hero.
Oh, what was happening to her? Her beloved Gray was hardly gone, and she was already giving her kisses to another. It didn’t matter that he reminded her of Gray. He was Gryf. As Newt had said, a poor unfortunate wretch who had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. And here she was, letting him think that he could mean something to her.
She closed her eyes, blotting out the sight of all those stars glittering in the velvet darkness. The sight of them mocked her. As did the moon, all hazy and round and golden.
She couldn’t deny that it had felt wonderful to be held in Gryf’s arms and kissed until she was breathless. She ought to be blissfully happy.
She’d never felt so miserable in her life.
Chapter Five
At the soft footfall, the little boy sat up in the darkness. “That you, Gryf?”
“Aye, lad.”
“What were you doing above deck?”
“Smoking. Watching the stars.” Kissing the captain. And wanting more than just her kisses. What he’d wanted, more than anything in this world, was to take her, right there.
The very thought of it mocked him. Whatever had he been thinking?
“Why do you like the night, Gryf?”
“Because nobody can see me. Now go to sleep, Whit.”
“Aye. I need no coaxing.” The boy rolled to his side and listened to the muffled thud of boots dropping to the floor, and the soft rustling sounds as the man crawled into his hammock.
Suddenly, as the implication of the man’s words sank in, he sat up. “You mean you’re hiding?”
“Something like that.”
“You don’t need to hide in the dark, Gryf. Nobody stares at you.”
The man gave a grunt of disagreement.
“They don’t, Gryf. Truly they don’t. They accept that you’ve been burned, and that you’ll some day heal. But they don’t stare at you. Well…except maybe the captain. But you look at her a lot, too, when you think nobody’s looking.”
The boy’s words hit a nerve. He hadn’t thought anybody else had noticed the way he watched her. But it couldn’t be helped. She was a fascinating creature.
“That’s enough, Whit.” His tone was rougher than he intended. “Go to sleep.”
“Aye.” The boy lay back down and settled himself comfortably. Within minutes his breathing was slow and deep.
Gryf folded his hands under his head and stared at the tiny path of moonlight filtering thr
ough the porthole of the crew’s quarters.
He couldn’t deny that he’d been caught up short by the sight of Captain Darcy Lambert. What man in his right mind wouldn’t be? She was like a perfect porcelain figurine. All soft golden hair and eyes as blue as the sea. As if that weren’t enough, she became, aboard ship, a beautiful, brilliant butterfly, flitting high in the rigging. Dancing across the ropes and sails, climbing all the way to the very top of the mast.
He loved watching her. The way she moved, with such fierce energy. The way she held the ship’s wheel steady even when the winds threatened to blow her clean away.
She looked tiny and fragile. But beneath the delicate looks there was such strength. It was there in her eyes. In her voice. In the way she took command over a ship filled with men twice her size.
There was a fearlessness in her that touched something deep inside him. What a magnificent mate she would make for any man strong enough to win her heart.
A mate. He had no right to such thoughts. If his scarred face and body weren’t enough, there was one other fact, much more important than his disfigurement. For all he knew, he may already have a wife and children waiting for him somewhere. Until he knew who he was and where he’d come from, he had no right to pursue a woman, even one as magnificent as the captain.
Still, the mere thought of the way she’d tasted had the blood roaring in his temples. If she were another kind of woman, he might simply enjoy the moment and take his pleasure before moving on in his search for himself. But she was too sweet, too innocent, to be used in such a manner. And though he had no idea what sort of man he’d once been, he was inclined to think his former self would agree with his current reluctance to take what wasn’t his by right.
He didn’t believe he’d been a womanizer before his accident. He’d had plenty of chances to indulge himself while he’d recovered from his wounds. The farmer and his wife who’d nursed him back to health had been both kind and trusting. Too trusting. They often left their pretty daughter alone to dress his wounds and feed him. And the girl, on the verge of womanhood, had offered much more. She had made it all too plain that she would be his for the taking. Which was why he’d fled to the village as soon as he was able. Though she was pretty and willing, she’d held no appeal to him.
There had been a wench at the tavern in Timmeron. She’d practically thrown herself at him, until he’d told her that he needed time to recover from his burns. Not exactly the truth, but not a lie, either. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her feelings. He knew too well the sting of rejection. There had been plenty of people in the village who had refused to hire him, not because he couldn’t do the work, but because they couldn’t bear to look upon him. In truth, he’d learned to prefer his own company to that of others.
So why did the captain of the Undaunted capture his fancy when others didn’t? It might be the fact that she was the prettiest female he’d ever set eyes on. Or the fact that her fearlessness touched something inside him. Or perhaps she reminded him of someone he’d known in that other life.
Catching a glimmer of starlight through the porthole, he thought about Darcy’s reaction when he’d known the names of the stars, and the myths behind them. There had been at first an eagerness about her, and then a sadness. What lay behind that? he wondered. What secret sadness did Captain Darcy Lambert harbor in her heart?
Darcy Lambert. The name was as sweet as the woman who bore it.
He closed his eyes, determined to put her out of his mind. If it took the entire night.
The morning sun seemed to be rising out of the sea in a blazing ball of fire. The sky was painted red with it. There was a fine breeze billowing the sails.
The Undaunted made good time, slicing through the water toward a distant harbor. On deck, Gryf and the others checked the lines while Darcy and several of the crew trimmed the sails.
Darcy’s voice, from high in the rigging, called out, “Land dead ahead.”
“That’d be Brenallyn,” Newton shouted. “We’ve a cargo to pick up there.” He began shouting orders to the crew and there was a flurry of activity as they prepared to drop anchor. Gryf stood by the rail and watched as Darcy skimmed down the rigging, hand over hand until she reached the deck. When she caught sight of him staring at her, she colored and turned away, busying herself at the wheel while Newton began barking orders.
“Lower the skiff, mates. Ye there, Gryf. Ye’ll accompany me to the docks and see to the cargo.”
“Aye, sir.”
“What about me, Newt?” Whit looked up with pleading eyes that reminded Newton of a puppy the Lambert children had once had. All big eyes and wiggling body with clumsy feet that were always tracking dirt on Mistress Coffey’s spotless floors.
“Aye, lad. But ye’ll stay close. If ye wander off, we’ll leave port without ye.”
“Aye, sir.” The lad shot a grin at Gryf, then raced to the port railing to watch as the skiff was lowered into the water. When it splashed down, he was the first one down the rope ladder.
When Newton and Gryf and several other sailors were aboard, the boy glanced up to the railing hopefully. “What about the captain?”
“She isn’t coming, lad. She’s needed aboard ship. I can deal with the harbormaster myself.”
Gryf could read the disappointment in the boy’s eyes. It occurred to him that Whit wasn’t the only one who’d been hoping Darcy would come along.
She’d avoided him all day. Not that he blamed her. She was a ship’s captain, and he was an inept sailor who’d only been hired aboard because she was desperate for a crew.
Last night might have meant something to him, but to her it was probably no more than a moment’s distraction.
He smiled to himself. And what a distraction. She’d robbed him of a night’s sleep. Still, it had been worth it. If truth be told, he’d do it again, given the chance. What man in his right mind wouldn’t? He could spend many a lonely night just thinking about the way she’d responded to his kisses.
Newton’s voice brought him up short. “Where’s ye’r mind today, Gryf? I said grab that line. And be quick about it.”
Reflexively he reached out a hand and caught the rope being tossed by a man on the dock. With one quick twist he had the skiff secured.
Newton studied the perfect knot, then glanced at the man who had formed it without giving it a second thought. “I’d say ye’ve done that sort of thing before.”
Gryf shrugged. “I may have. I don’t recall.”
“Ye may not remember, but I’ve no doubt ye’r a man of the sea.” Newt stepped ashore. “I’ll be no more than an hour. Ye men have time for a walk up the lane, or a tankard in the tavern. I’ll expect all of ye here on the docks when I return.”
He strode away and the men scattered. Most of them headed toward the tavern.
Whit moved along beside Gryf, eager for adventure. “Where are we going?”
The man shrugged. “I thought I’d drop by the village church. See if the vicar knows me.”
For a minute the boy frowned. He’d hoped for something a bit more exciting than a visit to the village church. Then he brightened as he skipped along beside his friend. It looked like a long walk from here to the white building standing at the very top of the hill. Maybe between here and there they’d pass a pastry shop, and he might persuade Gryf to let him fill the hole in his stomach caused by Fielding’s miserly cooking aboard ship. After all, he still had the two coins he’d been paid for signing aboard the Undaunted. It was an unexpected delight to know he could spend it all on himself if he chose. And all because of the man beside him. If it hadn’t been for Gryf, he’d still be locked in a life of misery.
The thought of what he’d left behind had him shivering.
He thought about the man he’d encountered that dark, rainy night. A man whose scarred face had him cringing in terror. And when Gryf had spoken in that strange, raspy voice, he’d tried to get away.
Now he could only thank the fates that had brought this man to him.
If it weren’t for Gryf, he shuddered to think where he’d be by now.
He reached up and caught that big, work-worn hand in his. “Know what I think, Gryf?”
“What, lad?”
“I think signing aboard the Undaunted was just about the smartest thing we’ve ever done. And when I learn all I can about sailing, I think one day you and I will own a fine big ship just like the Undaunted. What do you think of that?”
“I think that’s a fine dream, Whit.” The man winked at the boy, before turning his attention to the church in the distance. On his face was a look of hope. Somewhere, someone had to know his name.
Beside him, the boy watched the change in his expression and sensed that this was no mere walk along a village lane. He tried, as he had so often, to imagine what it must be like for this man to have no memory of his past.
Odd, the boy thought. Gryf wanted desperately to find someone who knew him, so that he could remember his past. While all the lad wanted was to forget his painful past and find a place where nobody knew his name. Then and only then would he feel safe from the terror he’d left behind. Hopefully for good.
Darcy was seated at the little desk bolted to the floor of the captain’s cabin. It gave her such pleasure to sleep in her father’s bunk, and work at his desk. Her desk, she mentally corrected. The Undaunted and everything in it was hers now. Hers and her sisters’.
She unrolled the map, marked in her father’s scrawling hand, and studied the route she planned to take when they left port. There would be many days of open sea before they would anchor again. She hoped Newton was able to entice a few more sailors to hire on while they were anchored here.
She looked up at the sound of men’s laughter and recognized Newton’s voice, shouting orders. At once she shoved away from the desk and went above deck.
The men were carrying their barrels of cargo up the rope ladder and across the deck, where several more of the crew waited to carry them to the hold.
The Sea Sprite Page 6