Quintspinner (28 page)

Her discovery of the odd looking brand on his left upper chest had initially shocked her; its similarity to the shape of her own birthmark was eerie. Intuitively she knew there could be no coincidence. She stared at the delicate braided bands of sky-blue jewels already adorning her left hand and then studied the details of the new ring which nestled by its side.

The emerald spinner.

A broad band of gold inset with a spinning band of silver encircled her fourth finger. Within the silver band, which could be made to spin around in its golden track, were glistening emeralds, themselves secured within tiny clasps of gold fashioned into the shapes of oak leaves.

Edward had said the ring could heal. In the few days that it had adorned her fourth finger, the swelling in the knuckle of her sprained fifth finger seemed to have lessened. Her first ring, with the wavy strands of glowing blue jewels, now nestled comfortably around her finger without too much tightness at the joint.

Coincidence. Surely it was just a matter of time. It would have healed anyway.
She studied the new ring.

Edward Graham had had a spinner ring! Tess
recalled the Crone’s words of warning about the power of such a ring used for the wrong reasons. In the hands of the wrong person.

And Edward Graham is certainly the wrong person!
Tess sullenly admitted to herself that he hadn’t actually killed the Crone–she had died from hitting her head on the ground when she fell off her stool.

Not fell. She was pushed. Had to have been. By either Edward or his companion on that day,
she corrected herself.
And Edward attacked her, maiming her intentionally!
Tess felt a cold shiver rush up her spine as the unbidden image of the severed fingers flooded her mind.

Why then, did I save his life?

Tess realized with alarm that she already believed that she had done the impossible. Had she really influenced Edward’s survival? She studied the rings again.

And if I did, then why?

He was a danger to her.

She did not love him. Could never love him.

And if he lived–and it certainly appeared that he was going to–she would have to marry him.

Had she sacrificed her future to save his? What had she seen of his inner being in those few seconds when he had pleaded with her to use the rings’ powers to save him?

Remember the Crone. No matter what you saw momentarily in him, no matter how attractive he seems, he has proven himself to be a cold-blooded killer,
she chided herself. The realization weighed heavily on her.

She searched her thoughts for a reason for her actions, grasping for any explanation. She held her hand up to the cabin’s tiny window, as a beam of murky sunlight bored its way into the room through the pane, and marveled at the intricate construction of the rings’ settings. In spite of the dullness of the light bathing them, their gems sparkled, staying true to their own colors.

Her thoughts wandered and for a moment Edward’s face swam into her mind’s eye. His eyes were darkened, black pits of danger and his hands seemed to be dripping blood. Abruptly repulsed, Tess felt dizzy and light-headed. As she felt herself falling backwards, Edward’s image held out his hand, slick with blood, catching her own in mid-fall. Disgusted with this unbidden flight of fancy, she shook her head, confused.

Where on earth did I conjure up that little scenario from?
The implied violence of it sickened her.
What was I thinking?

Suddenly the room seemed too close, the air too stale. Seeing Edward’s chest rise and fall, and hearing his soft snore, Tess carefully rose to her feet and tiptoed out of the room.

I need some fresh air out on the open deck. Perhaps now would be a good time for another lesson from William.

Thunk! The tiny knife had catapulted neatly three times, creating a shrill whistle as it sped unerringly towards its target. Its tip bit deeply into an old piece of board upon which a horde of rats had hastily been drawn with a lump of charcoal scavenged from the ember pan of the kitchen’s galley hearth.

“Now you try it,” William nodded towards Tess.

No matter how hard she wished for it to be successful, her throw continued to fall short of the charcoaled rats. Her knife twirled in a crazy, lopsided spin and skidded on the decking with a loud clatter. Increasingly embarrassed, Tess was grateful that her father had requested an order from both of the captains that crew were to avert their eyes during Tess’s daily lesson. She could not ever remember having been so frustrated by an inability to gain a new skill.

“Bloody hell!” she hissed under her breath, not really caring how unladylike it sounded. She bent over and scooped up the disagreeable little weapon.

“You will obey me!” she commanded the knife, as though talking to an unruly servant. Today’s practice fed her increasing tension. The tropical heat, crowded conditions, and progressive shortages of food and drink fueled a growing surliness inside.

William chuckled. Throwing had come naturally to him. Without any formal instruction and very little practice, his skill level had quickly become far greater than just the mild proficiency shown by his brother and friends back home.

“You need to hold it in your hand, just so,” he advised her. “Feel the weight–really feel it–and adjust the power you give to it.”

Tess held the knife, with her arm stiffly extended and quickly launched it underhand again. This time the knife flew straight and steady. Straight up, that is, before flipping one hundred and eighty degrees and quickly imbedding its pointed tip deep into the flooring of the deck at her feet.

William stared, completely at a loss. She had no feel for the tiny blade, no sense of its balancing point. None at all. He sighed. She needed a connection. A true feel for its potential. And that would require a slower concentration from Tess, centering on the ballistic feel of her weapon.

There was only one way to show her. Only one way for her to learn it.

Retrieving the dirk from its landing place in the plank, William held it in his hand.

“May I have your permission to help you?” he inquired.

A look of annoyance flashed across Tess’s face. “Of course!” she retorted. “That’s what you’re supposed to be doing!”

“Then come here,” he commanded and pointed to his feet.

A moment of defiance flared between them before she took a calming breath and stepped towards him.

“Do I have permission to guide your hand?” William thought it was best to be clear about that before he made physical contact with her.

Tess flushed, then visibly relaxed. “Yes, of course,” she assured William. “Teach by whatever means are necessary.” She stared into his clear blue eyes and took another step closer. A small smile tugged at her mouth. “Is this close enough?”

“Not quite,” he replied, a tiny grin spreading across his own mouth. “Here, turn around and take your knife in your own hand.” William reached around her from behind, encircling her with his arms, and enclosed his hand over hers holding the knife. This close, heat from her body seeped into his, encompassing him, and his heart hammered like thunder in his chest. Her scent hovered in front of him, filling his nostrils.
Mildly salty, a delicious womanly musk, and,
he thought,
a bit of … cinnamon?
He felt a heaviness grow in his groin.
Concentrate on the throw!
he chided himself, irritated with his body’s unruly response to her presence.

“Hold it lightly,” he said, “and now close your eyes. Just concentrate on the feel of it in your hand. Relax and breathe as I do.”

Tess closed her eyes and leaned slightly back into William’s body. He felt her shiver slightly at the physical connection, and hoped that she could feel his body heat radiating back to her through the thin linen tunic he wore. His chest expanded and fell with a perfect, even rhythm as his arms corralled her. She nestled her head back against him, just under his chin. He was surprised, then pleased, at how perfectly they seemed to mold into one another.
This is madness. She’s in your arms in broad daylight!
He focused on her knife. The next throw would have to be perfect. To provide life-saving justification for this dangerous physical embrace.

For a brief moment she stood still, absolutely lost in the sensation that being this close again to William created. His nearness was exquisite in a way that she had never experienced, certainly had felt nothing even close to this when she was with Edward. Edward smelled of rancid tobacco and often of the sticky sweetness of brandy. William smelled of–what was it? Just himself and nothing else. She wanted to melt into him, wanted to turn and feel his lips on hers, to embrace him–the vision was so real that she felt dizzy and her own heart galloped in her chest.

Stop it!
she scolded herself.
I am promised to Edward! To be even this close to William is probably suicidal for us both. Get it under control!

She slowed her breath to match his and returned her concentration to her hand. William’s hand felt warm and strong overtop of hers. She tried to slightly relax her hold on the knife’s handle, letting the slow pressure of his fingers guide her grip upon it.

“That’s better,” his voice was husky yet soft in her ear. “Now open your eyes and focus on your target.” He raised her arm and hand with his own and gently bounced it a time or two, as though re-determining its weight.

“Now!” he barked and flicked her arm and wrist in perfect symmetry with his own.

This time the blade twisted in three perfect circles before sinking directly into the middle of the target.

“There you are! Well done!” William cheered, reluctantly letting his half embrace of her go. His nostrils were still full of her scent. Tess stared at the target, her face shining. “Oh! That was good, wasn’t it?” she squealed.

“Very good!” William cheered in agreement. He returned Tess’s smile. Her excitement was contagious.

“Yes. Well done, my dear.” A strong combination of sharp perspiration, tobacco, and brandy greeted them just as the words did.

Edward Graham.

“I see you take a great interest in your student, Mr. Taylor,” Edward’s voice dripped with hostile sarcasm. Edward slipped his arm around Tess’s shoulders and clutched her tightly to him, nearly pulling her off her feet. “I appreciate your efforts, and I’m sure my
fiancé
does as well,” he continued, hardening his grip around Tess’s shoulders. “But there is no need to overstep your assignment. Do I make myself clear to you both?” His black eyes seemed to have no irises at all, only huge pupils, dark and deadly.