Ben shook his head. ‘Man has to go some time. Best to be doing what he loves when his toes turn up.’
‘Then I will feel no regret for killing you if you don’t relieve me from the wheel before the storm hits.’
Ben laughed. ‘Give the medicinal time to work. Later, I’ll give you time to go “courting”. When you get to her, explain you must finish quickly so you may return to your duties.’ He tilted his head and stared upwards. ‘What’s a brother for if not to give the elder an excuse for rushing about?’
‘I have not once, in my entire life, concerned myself with your bedding habits,’ Warrington grumbled, glaring at Ben. ‘Not once.’
The captain tilted his head sideways and his tone was mournful. ‘Sadly, I know why. You would be distraught at what wonders you have missed in your own experience.’ He turned, glancing over the deck, appraising the ship. ‘I have some good wine. Come to my cabin and have a swallow while you’re resting up for the woman.’
Warrington shook his head and walked towards the aft deck, ducking his head from the ropes jutting out above. He could use some refreshment after the night he’d had, but he didn’t relish more of his brother’s company.
‘The wine is quite good. Worth what I paid.’ Ben lowered his head as well when he stepped beside War. ‘And I’ll not needle you any more.’
Warrington snorted, but followed Ben.
The quiet click of their boots as they moved to the cabin blended with the movement of the boat, and the murmurs of the sailors keeping their voices low so orders could be heard.
Inside the room, Ben reached to pull a bottle from a crate. The cork slid free of the neck with a comforting pop. Ben handed the drink to Warrington, who leaned against the door.
Warrington looked to Ben’s berth, which didn’t have the storage overhead. The bed wasn’t bigger, but the room itself was more than double the size of the others, with two windows instead of one. A miniature was affixed to the front of the cabinet and Warrington knew, if he looked closely, that the painting was of a mermaid—Ben’s version of a perfect woman.
The wine’s sweetness rested well on Warrington’s tongue. He handed the drink back to Ben, who dropped himself in the chair and helped himself to a hearty swallow.
Warrington snatched the bottle before Ben had a chance to put it down. ‘Every time the boat touched the smallest ripple, the noises she made woke me. She turned green to her toes, I wager. I’d have had more rest on deck—except the men would have made too much sport of it.’
‘You brought her on board.’
‘Had to stay awake to make sure the lantern didn’t falter. She couldn’t stand the dark—made her worse. Every time I convinced her to turn out the light, in a few minutes I was lighting it again. I finally persuaded her to lie down in the berth.’
‘So you were able to enjoy her.’
Warrington took a long swallow of the wine, frowned and looked at Ben. ‘Think of the width and height of my berth. Two squirrels could hardly mate in it.’
Ben raised his brows and put a hand to his chest. His voice became overly concerned. ‘I feel saddened for you and I don’t wish you more distress. Send her to my cabin. I’ll play nursery maid tonight.’
‘Not bloody likely. I did everything but rub her feet to soothe her. I will be enjoying the lady’s favours.’
‘Maybe you should have rubbed her feet.’
‘She wouldn’t let me.’
‘What can I say, old man, except send her my way.’ Ben clasped his hands behind his head. ‘I’ve a special remedy that eases any discomfort a woman might have. One look at it and she forgets all else.’
‘You’d best see the ship sails like treacle poured across a plate tonight, or I will be pounding on your door.’
Ben held out his hand, indicating time to return the bottle. He might as well have been looking over the top of spectacles in a schoolroom. ‘I think you let her make excuses.’
‘I do not,’ Warrington repeated, and then smiled. ‘Every time I looked at her I could see that little mark, like a drawing of breasts.’
‘It looks like a woman’s bottom.’
‘No.’ Warrington spoke with certainty. ‘Breasts.’
They were silent for a moment, then Ben held his hand out, palm raised, and didn’t lower it.
Warrington gave him the bottle.
Ben took a drink. He put the wine in front of him. ‘Just don’t forget she’ll be plying her trade on the docks when we reach port. Saw an opportunity to get to London and she took it. Doesn’t change what she is.’
‘I don’t care what she is. She’s in my bed and she’s going to do as she agreed. Then we dock and she goes on her way.’
‘Now you’re thinking. Not like with—’
‘Stubble it, Ben.’ He didn’t need reminding about his dead wife, the beautiful Cassandra, who always wore chemises that smelled of roses.
He knew he’d been a fool with her, two times over. And both his brothers knew. And the servants. Or at least they all imagined they did. He didn’t think anyone but himself realised how truly addled he’d been. At least afterwards he’d been able to let them believe most of his feelings were rage towards her.
But he’d grieved for her and not been able to pretend otherwise enough to fool his brothers. Only the misery of being trapped on a ship at sea, with conditions that might have otherwise driven him mad, had brought back his mind to reality.
He could see Cassandra for what she was, but that also meant he could see himself for what he was.
He’d not been able to stop wanting her. He’d hated himself for his desire.
‘Oddest thing came to me when I shaved.’ Ben gave a slight shake of his head. ‘Think I’ve seen your berth mate before.’
His thoughts snagged on Ben’s words. ‘The island?’
‘Never been to Melos before. Couldn’t be.’
‘But how could you forget a woman with a face like hers?’
‘Didn’t exactly forget her. Just can’t remember where I saw her. And I know I saw her.’
‘You told me all women look alike to you.’
‘In bed.’ Ben shrugged. ‘But I don’t think that’s where I saw her.’
Warrington felt the betrayal of his past again and anger with himself for having concern for a woman he didn’t trust. ‘I suppose I can ask her why she speaks so plain. It would not be unusual if she spoke French, or if she spoke a few words of rough English. But she speaks better than some of the seamen, even with her Greek flavour. I noticed on the island, but once she dropped her shawl, I lost interest in her speech.’
‘But she’s not said eros. Perhaps it’s the company she’s keeping.’
‘So you remembered one word from the tutor you tortured. Eros. I am not surprised. But she’s been paid—her passage—she’ll say it. And you’ll leave her be.’
‘Of course.’ Ben stretched out his arms, before clasping his hands behind his neck and grinning. ‘But don’t be surprised if she changes affections and decides she can’t stay away from me.’ He leaned back enough that the front legs of his chair lifted, completely at ease with the ship’s motions.
‘You touch her, little brother, and there are not enough men on this ship to keep you alive.’
‘You talk here and the woman is in the cabin regretting she did not get her captain.’