Ocean's Justice (9 page)

The liquor in my stomach seemed to ignite, making me see stars. I wanted to kiss William again before the stars faded and maybe more, besides. I swung my legs over the edge of the bunk and jumped. I landed on my feet, but there was something wrong with my head and I seemed to have lost most of the coordination in the rest of my body. I staggered and William caught me. "Easy, lass. You're drunk. I hope you can hold your liquor better than Charlie, for he took the bucket."

I pressed my hands to his cheeks and sucked in a deep breath, my vision blurring as I tried to focus on his lips. Clumsily, I managed to touch my lips to his and memory took control. Or perhaps it was passion. For a moment, he resisted, but the rum seemed to have burned away all resistance and some of the communication barriers between us, too.

Feeling like it was on fire, my body melted in his arms, moulding around his so that we fit together perfectly. Our tongues danced in the fighting ring formed by our lips, but this was different. A desire to feel him on his back beneath me crept into my thoughts and I pushed him toward the bunks, struggling to remember Kaito's moves. Shoulder, waist...yes! William landed on his bunk and I sat astride him, still kissing him with every ounce of my being.

William. I wanted William. I wanted to be as close to him as I could be. To feel his skin against mine as our passion drove us to greater heights. To love him as I'd loved Giuseppe.

Giuseppe.

I drew a sobbing breath as tears cascaded down my cheeks.

William sat up, manoeuvring my body so I sat across his lap, my legs dangling side by side over the edge of the mattress. Firm arms cradled me to his chest as I cried. "It's all right, lass. It was only a stupid wager – I'd never have let anyone hurt you and your honour is safe with me. Even drunk, I could never take advantage of you. You're worth more than that. One day, you'll make the next man you choose to marry very happy. Here, you just hold on to me until you feel better."

I cuddled up to him, revelling in the bliss his arms held, and wondered how I could ever want anyone else but William.

Thirteen

I squinted up at the ceiling, unable to remember how it had acquired stripes.

Sitting up, I scanned my surroundings. The cabin looked the same, but I was lying in William's bunk and not my own. I'd slept in my rumpled clothes. Ugh. I swore never to do it again – not while I was capable of undressing myself to sleep without them.

William. Where was William?

The door swung silently inwards and I moved into a crouch, ready to spring if my visitor proved a threat.

"Good morning, lass. I brought you some water to wash with – I figured you'd want more privacy than the sailors' washroom. How are you feeling this morning?" William offered his hand and I accepted his help to stand up.

I yelped and wished I hadn't – it felt like another fight had started inside my head and the combatants were trying to beat their way out through my forehead. I pressed my hands to my head and was shocked to discover that it wasn't bulging in the slightest. I whimpered at the pain, just wanting it to stop.

"After that much rum last night, I'm not surprised your head hurts. It does, right?"

I nodded and winced as that made the pain worse. "Hurts," I whispered.

William crouched on the floor beside the bed. "Then you're lucky I know where they keep the medical kit on this boat. The aspirin's gone, but I found something called Aspro that looks like it does the same thing. Here, have you taken pills before?"

I stared at the small, round tablets in his hand, then lifted my eyes to his face. I had no idea what he expected me to do with them.

He smiled. "Good thing I brought a few spare. Right, you put them on your tongue like this." He placed a tablet on his extended tongue, then pulled his tongue back into his mouth. "Take a drink and swallow it down, but don't bite it." He took a mouthful of water and swallowed, then stuck out his bare tongue. "See? Gone. Two should see to your hangover." He pressed two of the tablets into my hand, holding out the cup of water. "Go on."

I stuck my tongue out and laid the pills on it. The taste was unpleasant and they were as dry as bone. I drank some of the water, which filled my mouth with the nauseating taste that remained even after I'd swallowed the tablets. I finished off the cup and hoped the whole ordeal would be worth it. Anything to rid myself of the pounding inside my head.

William pointed at his pillow. "Rest. They take a little while to work."

I reclined slowly, relieved when the pain lessened as my head hit the pillow. I turned to watch William, hoping he might be able to distract me from my hurting head. He'd removed his shirt and I could see the pale lines of scars on the smooth skin of his back. They looked too straight to be from Portuguese man-o'-war tentacles, as mine were. Perhaps he had different jellyfish in the waters near his home.

He wrapped his fingers around a brush, rotating it into the palm of his other hand until the bristles were covered in creamy foam. To my fascination, he smoothed this foam across his cheeks and his chin. He even spread a thin layer on his upper lip before frothing up a handful more of the stuff to coat his throat. Once he'd carefully rinsed and dried his hands, he unfolded a blade and began sharpening it. The silvery metal glinted in the morning sunlight streaming through the porthole as I wondered why he needed such a sharp edge. Perhaps I should have felt a premonition of danger, but the blade in William's hands held no fear for me.

"This was my grandfather's," he said, rubbing his thumb across the cream-coloured handle. "Back home, I had one of those modern safety razors, but I had no idea if we could get the blades out here, so I was allowed to take my grandfather's old cut-throat razor. My father never used it – he said a beard was a man's defence against the freezing north wind. My mother said it was a defence against women – if no other woman could find his mouth to kiss, then he was hers forever."

I watched in alarm as he scraped the blade down his own cheek, much like I might have scaled a fish. His careful stroke removed the foam, but his skin beneath it appeared intact. Successive strokes cleared his skin of most of the creamy lather, until he reached his chin. "Did you never watch your father shave? Or your husband?"

I stared, mute, as he continued.

He squinted at a small circle of glass he'd propped up on the locker, puckered his face and cautiously ran the edge of the blade down his chin. He pulled comical faces, pulling the skin this way and that as he scraped the soap away, pausing every few strokes to rinse the blade. When there were only faint lines of foam left and a blob that had somehow adhered to his ear, he splashed water on his face and towelled himself dry.

He lifted the bowl of water, its surface now swimming with the scum of what had once been the lather on his face, and tipped it out the porthole before he turned to face me. I gasped at the transformation.

Gone was the stubble at his throat, the neatly trimmed beard on his chin and the bristly moustache that had adorned his upper lip. His face looked as smooth as mine and I wanted to touch him. I wanted to know what it felt like to kiss him without the tangle of facial hair he'd worn since the day we'd met.

As William buttoned up his shirt, he said, "When we reach shore, I'll help you find your family so you can go home, where you'll be safe."

I shook my head. "No family. No home. No...more."

William dropped to his knees beside me. "No family left at all? No home? Maria..."

I looked into his horrified eyes and nodded slowly.

Without warning, he gathered me in his arms, pulling me up so that I faced him. Only a breath separated our lips and his eyes drew me deep inside. "I will find a home for you. I swear it. I'll even build one for you with my own hands, if that's what it takes to keep you safe. I'll make a home for you...with you...if that's what you want."

I yielded to the yearning in his eyes, as they reflected the urge in my own heart. I took his head in my hands and kissed him, his tongue gliding around mine as if he wished to hold me inside as well as out.

The door clanged open and we sprang apart. Charlie stood in the doorway, glowering as he held the frame for support. His hair and his shirt were drenched as if someone had poured a whole bucket of water over them. "I hate rum. I'm never drinking alcohol again." His bloodshot eyes turned pleadingly to me. "Tell me Miss Maria didn't see me in that state."

William eyed him. "Sorry, lad, but she saw everything. I had to turn you out for your own good – and her safety."

Charlie groaned and staggered up the passage, swearing until he was well out of sight and all I could hear of him were his mumbled curses.

"Tidy yourself up, lass, so I can take you to breakfast. I have a surprise for you." William poured clean water into the bowl and offered it to me. I inclined my head in thanks and rolled up my sleeves so I could wash. The whole ocean couldn't wash away the feeling of his mouth on mine and I didn't want it to.

Fourteen

William's cheeky grin persisted as he led me to the mess deck, which was the scene of unusual activity. Men unrolled lengths of the paper that I'd seen wired to the toilet wall, and painted it red before fastening it to the bulkheads. The stuff hung in swags from the pin points, along the wall and across the ceiling as one man started pinning it to the ceiling beams.

"Interesting decorations," William said, laughing.

One man sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, leaving a streak of red paint across his cheek. "Yeah, well we wouldn't have any if it weren't for the Indian boys. No one can find the ones we used for Captain Foster's birthday, so Chief Officer Smith gets ruddy bog-roll instead." He turned to the other men. "Oi, Ali!" Three men responded to his call. "Mr McGregor likes your idea." All three grinned, waved and returned to their work.

William and I carefully made our way through the hall, avoiding the draped, dripping toilet paper. None of the breakfast foods looked particularly appetising and the tea was extra murky this morning, but I tried to choke it down anyway as William seemed set on explaining the occasion to me.

"It's the chief officer's birthday, so we'll be having cake for pudding tonight and the captain has promised he'll get the gramophone out. Smith has an impressive record collection and he picked up some jazz ones in New York that he seemed pretty excited about. He's a big fan of Cole Porter, so I'm sure you'll hear heaps of him tonight. And...speaking of music..." He coughed, looking uncomfortable. "I was wondering if you might be willing...if you'd agree to...if you'd like to...do you know how to dance, Maria?"

"Dance?" I tasted the word, knowing its meaning. I'd lost count of the number of times I'd watched the islanders back home dance at some celebration or other, wishing I could join in, but knowing I could never. The intricate patterns as people spun around each other in matching movements. I'd practiced the steps alone in the dark as the faint strains of the music carried to me across the waves and sand.

"Would you...would you dance with me?" he asked, his voice failing so that he had to clear his throat. "Please?"

Nervously, I wiped my mouth. A small school of frightened fish seemed to have swum into my stomach, it felt so fluttery. For the first time, not to dance alone, in the dark? "Yes, William," I breathed, unable to contain my beaming smile.

"Right now?" he continued, reaching for my hand. Confused, I let him lead me away from the table and out into the watery sunlight at the bow. Didn't we need music? The only sounds were the thrumming of the engines and the sibilance of the waves as they splashed and slid along the hull. He backed away from me a little, placed his hands on his hips, and bowed from the waist. Hurriedly, I did the same.