Quintspinner (23 page)

The knife felt strangely familiar. Its handle lay heavy and warm in William’s hand. The strange double curved blade had, at the moment of its birth in the fires of a skilled but long-forgotten smith, been forged as an extension of the metal handle and now, as William’s fingers curled around it, it nestled solidly in the palm of his hand.

A perfect fit.

It was unlike any skinning or hunting knife he had ever handled. Plain and darkened with a deep grey tarnish, it had been overlooked by the rest of the crew, bypassed in favor of the more ornate and lengthy weapons. William had found it at the bottom of the
Mary Jane’s
arms chest.

Perhaps it had been considered by the others to be too small to be safely used in hand to hand combat, too dangerously diminutive to be pitched against a sailor’ preferred weapon such as a cutlass or boarding axe, and thus it had been left behind. To William, however, it would be perfect in such a fight.

Perfect to be launched from a distance.

From a practiced hand.

Or from either hand,
he smiled to himself.
Now to fashion a sheath for such a thing. Perhaps the bos’n will not miss a small amount of sail and thread.

Lost in his thoughts of the logistics of obtaining materials for such a casing, William descended into the lower levels of the ship, intending to smuggle a small amount of cloth from the hold. His new weapon had a comfortable weight to it, its surface slick and smooth, its shaft feeling well balanced against the mass of its handle. Overcome with a totally impetuous desire to test its behavior in flight, William hurled his dagger, aiming for the corner of a wooden box stored in the shadows at the base of the galley wall. With a spontaneous flick of his wrist, he sent it spinning on a short trajectory path. It found its mark landing with a satisfying thud as the tip bit deeply into the box.

William stared in distress.

Only a hair’s breadth away from his knife, a hand froze in mid-reach. A delicate hand that had come out of the shadow without warning, apparently seeking the same box. William sucked his breath in sharply as his eyes, now adjusted to the low light, came to rest on the blue ring, glowing ever so faintly even in the semidarkness.

God Almighty! What have I done!

He opened his mouth to utter an apology, an explanation, anything at all, but all that exited from his throat was a ragged breath.

Tess stepped out of the shadow and fixed him in her stare. William was sure she could hear the panic in the hammering rhythm of his own heartbeat. For a few tortuous heartbeats neither of them spoke, and then Tess took a deep breath.

“What were you aiming for?” she inquired, her voice steady and low.

“Miss Willoughby! I am so sorry! I didn’t see anybody around and I didn’t know that you were reaching for it! It was inexcusable and–”

“What was your target?” she cut in, her voice just as calm as William’s was frantic.

“Uh … the corner of the box, Miss,” and he nodded miserably in its general direction.

Tess peered down at the box and spoke out loud, though William was not sure that it was for his benefit at all.

“My gran–Mrs. Hanley requested that I bring some dried sprigs of mint to her for use against the malodorous air in sick bay.” She grasped her ring with the fingers of her free hand, absentmindedly toying with it, or perhaps just hiding it from his eyes. William was not sure which.

“I had been momentarily confused about opening the box. In the dark I was not sure it was the one I sought, therefore I hesitated before reaching out.”

She bent forward again, squatting beside the box, and ran her fingers along the knife blade and handle.

“Well Sir, it appears that you have found your intended mark indeed.” She looked up at William and smiled. “No harm done at all then, as
I
was aiming for its latch. Do you often hit your mark dead on?”

“Nearly always,” William sputtered, “But Miss, I am sick to think of what might have happened ….” His voice trailed away.

“What do you propose you do to make it up to me then?”

“Truthfully, I have no idea but I assure you that I am at your service, Miss! No request from you would go unanswered.”

“None?” Tess’s smile had been replaced by a stern look, desirous of his affirmation.

“I assure you that.”

“Then ….” She stepped forward and drew herself up as tall as she could. The nearness of her once again made William’s breath harsh. He stared into her eyes; even by lantern light they were as deeply green as the ocean they sailed upon. For a few powerful heartbeats they stood, their faces mere inches apart.

God provides the birds with food, but He does not drop it into their nests. Make what you can of your given opportunities.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Captain Crowell’s words whispered inside William’s head nudging, taunting, and suddenly he felt their hidden meaning open up to him.

Impetuously, he reached out, his hands resting on the slight swells of her hips, his fingers drawing her against him. There was no hesitation in those emerald eyes. William bent his head forward and lightly brushed Tess’s lips with his own, then pulled back and searched her face. Her eyes were half closed, the contours of her face beautiful even in the shadows of the dim light. Her body pressed against him.

He kissed her again, this time tasting her lips, meeting the gentle tip of her tongue with his own. He alternately licked and suckled her skin, trailing butterfly kisses gently down the front of her throat, the tip of his tongue stopping to swirl enticingly in the dip above her collarbone. Tess’s lips parted as she tilted her head back and a soft moan escaped her. Her breath came in shallow waves as she drank in the sensations he was causing. Lost in a moment of lustful madness, William kissed her again, and felt her hands slide up around his neck. Her touch upon his skin was thrilling, so overpowering … and
quite
wonderful.

She responded to him, leaning into him, caressing his face with her fingertips, feeling the short stubble on his skin, and then slowly outlining his cheekbones, drawing her fingers along to track the angle of his jaw. Her touch was electrifying and William groaned with the pleasure of it.

“What was it that you wanted to ask me?” he whispered hopefully, nuzzling her neck just below her ear.

“Hmmm?” Tess exhaled. “I–I wanted to ask you … to teach me … to throw as you do. With a weapon of my own.”

Her words sent an instant chill through William, squelching the heat of the moment. He pulled away from her and his eyes widened.
Does she know what she asks of me? To
teach a woman to use a hand weapon, here on a ship would be a forbidden thing, he was sure of it.
Probably a lashing, or worse if I’m caught! It would have to be done in secret, and how would that look, if anyone discovered us together?
And then the reality of being together, of what they were doing–had just done–the reality of being together under these far more treacherous circumstances washed over him.

What in the bejeezes hell am I doing? he
cursed himself. Not that he regretted having Tess in his arms. It was the sudden realization of the danger that his own actions had put her in, as well as himself that made him feel shaky and sick to his stomach.

And her already being betrothed! If her miserable fiancé were to catch us, we’d both be thrown overboard! How could I have put my own desires ahead of her safety? To have put her secure future into jeopardy? And now, to do as she asks? To teach her to throw?

William looked into Tess’s face. It was full of steely resolve. He saw no hope for himself. If he didn’t agree to her terms, and she were to tell anyone of his rash behavior, knife or otherwise, he would be severely punished, most likely ending in a long-drawn out and painful death. Of that he was certain.

He mulled over his options. There were only two. Refuse her and have his actions be revealed to the captain, and then his flesh and bone would be broken under the force of the lash. Or accept her terms, and after being caught with her, hope for nothing
worse
than his body being broken under the force of the lash ….

William stood unmoving, engulfed for a moment in the beauty of Tess’s features. Her lashes, long and sultry, framed her eyes, and William was certain that he could smell a faint wisp of tonic tinged with cinnamon on her breath. The stern expression had left her face, replaced by a softer countenance. Her demeanor suggested more of an inquiry forthcoming now.

“Will you?” she asked and reached out to him. The facets of her ring’s emeralds twinkled as they caught the smoky light. Her fingertips rested softly on the back of his hand, sending an exquisite sensation of sparks up his arm again.

Maybe some things are worth dying for ….

William leaned over and withdrew his knife from the lid of the spice box.

“Yes, of course,” he heard himself say, while simultaneously a quiet voice in his head whispered a timid third option.
Maybe, if I’m very careful, I’ll get to spend time with her and
not
get caught, I’ll escape the captain’s torture and death sentence, and–

His gaze fell upon the deep gouge his blade had made in the wooden lid and froze there, just as Mrs. Hanley’s generous bosom appeared next to Tess’s shoulder, announcing the impending and enthusiastic arrival of the rest of her.

And Mrs. Hanley will strangle me on the spot.

“What’s keepin’ you, child? Oh! Hullo, Mr. Taylor!”

Surprised by the sound of her grandmother’s voice, Tess spun round, her skirts nearly knocking the woman over.

“Oh! You startled me!” Tess exclaimed, reaching out to steady her.

“Hah!” the effusive housekeeper grinned and patted her own ample rump. “The dark’s truly a maid’s friend then, if’n neither of you was able to see the size of me comin’ at ya’!”

Dark enough to hide you perhaps, but light enough to show the fresh scar in your spice box
thought Tess, her eyes following William’s petrified line of sight.

“So, did ya’ get the mint sprigs?”

“Uh… no, we, that is, I was delayed just now ….” Tess’s voice trailed away as her thoughts scrounged madly about for an explanation.

“Eh? What’s this?” Mrs. Hanley had spotted the gash in her trunk.

“It was me,” William quickly confessed. “It was from where my knife landed.”

Tess stared outright at him.
His courage is admirable, I’ll say that for him! Outshone perhaps only by his honesty! She
touched her grandmother’s arm and cut William’s confession off.

“He threw his knife at something that was here only a moment ago!” Tess interjected.
Not really a lie,
she told herself.
My hand.

Mrs. Hanley peered more closely at her precious small trunk. “Hmmph!” she snorted, “t’was probably a rat, I’ve no doubt!” She wrinkled up her nose in distaste. “Foul stinkin’ brutes! An’ so many of them, too! There’s gettin’ to be more an’ more of them, the longer this damnable voyage takes! They’re all over the place! Breedin’ like–well, like rats!” She looked up at Tess and shook her head. “The doctor has diagnosed several cases of rat-bite fever in the men, too! An’ us stuck on this floatin’ hole, with nothin’ much to help them with!”