Return to the House of Sin. Anabelle Bryant

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СКАЧАТЬ a laden bundle through the decks would draw unwanted attention. The direct, unabashed circumspection with which the young crew member had eyed him earlier lingered as a disturbing curiosity. Whether the lad thought of him as an easy mark or watched for some other reason, the observation didn’t sit well.

      Of further concern was the increasingly poor weather. What had begun as a light rain had quickly transformed into a nightmarish fury. Shards of violent lightning crackled through the skies in the north and the ocean waters reverberated with turbulence, making for a difficult walk across the boards and even more disagreeable evening if one didn’t have a temperament for sea travel. Luckily, his stomach was reliable. Still, he belonged below deck. Not a passenger could be seen along the narrow corridor and an occasional complaint from the ship’s timber coalesced with foul oaths of fright heard through latched chamber doors.

      At last, managing not to stagger though the ship tilted and pitched unexpectedly, he neared the room meant to be his quarters, surprised to see the basket hung in the same position as earlier. Hadn’t Amanda mentioned her hunger? Had she heard his knock? Perhaps she’d confused his signal with the crewmen who fastened the hatches and secured every rope and strap above deck.

      Troubled and disappointed in his failure to manage the situation more adeptly, he lifted the basket from the hook and, after a bracing knock, turned the lever and stepped into the dim interior. He noted with a degree of annoyance, the door should be locked. He’d wished to speak to her about the careless gesture, but she’d slept through his earlier visit.

      Outside in the passage, the wind yowled, bouncing from wall to wall as the ocean lashed. Here within the chamber, not a sound could be heard. He set the basket to the floorboards and moved to the oil lamp where he turned the key and illuminated the small space in the light of a shallow flame. It was then he heard a pitiful moan.

      What the devil?

      Amanda sat on the floor in the far corner as if she hid from the world, steeped in darkness, her eyes downcast, arms folded across her knees. She’d removed her boots and her stockinged toes, as white and opalescent as her complexion, peeped out from the billowed hems of her day gown. Her hair had been plaited, pulled back to reveal her pasty complexion, paler than moonlight. Beside her, with a shivery tremble, rested the chamber pot.

      He groaned, out of depth and drowning fast.

      Bloody hell, was she seasick?

      In answer to his mental question the ship pitched upward, suspended as if on marionette strings for what seemed a terrifying instance of weightlessness until it dropped at a sharp angle and returned to the waves, the slide of the basket across the floor tapping against his right boot as it displaced from its resting spot near the wall.

      He stepped backwards a few strides to regain his balance, his constitution intact though Amanda’s moan sounded pained. Her eyes lit on him, distant and panicked, as she pushed upward in an attempt to stand.

      ‘May I help you in any way?’ He took a wary step forward. He wasn’t exactly sure how ill she was feeling and he neither wished to embarrass nor upset her, while common decency demanded he offer assistance.

      ‘Talk to me. Please. I’ve been locked away for hours.’

      Her voice rasped in the near darkness and, despite the ship continued to rock and sway, the words prickled over his skin with alluring awareness. He reacted, his tone defensive. ‘By your own doing.’

      With a hollow, metallic clink, the chamber pot slid out of grasp to the far corner.

      ‘The truth doesn’t make the time pass faster. Please stay, if only a short while.’

      She sounded frightened and he told himself as he grabbed the wooden bowl on the desk and emptied its contents, he acted out of kindness and necessary obligation as an older brother would when a family member became sick.

      She took an awkward step and he reached her just in time as the tides pummelled the sides of the ship and tossed it across the waves. Amanda landed against his chest with a warm thump before he steadied her, bracing one hand to the wall as together they sank to the floorboards, acutely aware of her nearness and how incredibly soft and pliant she’d felt for the less-than-a-heartbeat moment she’d buffeted his chest with a subtle, unintentional nudge. For want of something to do with his hands, he placed the wooden bowl between them, the lantern on his other side. With great relief, he saw no evidence of her having expelled anything and, with peculiar contrast, noted the faint smell of gardenia. Perhaps she used scented soap or expensive perfume, some unmistakable light musky fragrance that was evident now with her proximity. It stirred him with an unexpected carnal bid for attention. His body throbbed with sudden heat, his chest all at once tight, each breath worse as her scent stole into his lungs and settled.

      In the dim light of the candle, he searched her face. Perspiration dotted her brow and a few strands of hair pressed to her forehead like damp ribbons. Her eyes were glassy. Had she cried while he was gone? Her gown was a rumpled mess no iron would ever repair.

      ‘What shall I talk about?’

      ‘Anything.’

      Her husky voice trickled over him and, for no apparent reason, he too began to perspire. The chamber was cool. There was no way to explain his unexpected reaction. He couldn’t be nervous. ‘With any luck, this weather will pass in a few hours. It poured buckets earlier but now the wind’s pitching—’

      ‘Not that.’ She gulped a mouthful of air and blew it out through puckered lips.

      He watched her profile, mesmerized in the fractured shadows cast by the lamp. ‘Right.’ He exhaled and restarted. ‘Did you eat the biscuits I left? It wasn’t much but the barley stew—’

      ‘Not food either.’ Her voice squeaked high and she pressed her lips together.

      A healthy portion of guilt settled in his stomach at how poorly he’d taken care of the situation through the day. For some unknown reason, he’d wanted to stay away, concerned she might pull him further into her convoluted appearance aboard ship. On another level, an internal and emotional one, he’d warned himself not to get close. He wanted nothing to do with affection of any kind.

      ‘I brought the bowl.’ Bloody hell, he sounded like an ass. What was wrong with him? He hadn’t touched her and, despite the ship’s acrobatics, he’d managed to keep at least eight inches between their shoulders. He’d placed the bowl on the floor in that space. It seemed the logical thing to do though he didn’t reckon why exactly. ‘Did you enjoy your visit to Italy?’ It was an innocuous subject. One that would serve his purpose.

      ‘Yes.’ Her voice brightened a smidgeon and a rush of satisfaction filled his chest. ‘But I’m immensely relieved to travel home. I have an important event to attend. Something I hope will change my life’s status for ever.’

      The walls shuddered as the ship took a sudden plummet and, in an ironic trick of the ocean’s majestic force, her answer registered and his heart fell to his stomach right along with the tides.

       Chapter Five

      Lord, but she felt awful. Once the foul weather struck, a heavy wave of queasiness consumed her stomach with no intention of release. How spoiled she’d become by the voyage with Father. Perhaps this storm was a manifestation of conscience in reaction to her foolhardy error. Or worse, a presage of Raelyn’s temper and Father’s СКАЧАТЬ