Master of Myth (The Antigone's Wrath Series Book 1) (12 page)

“So how do you intend to…” Iris coughed to squelch a laugh. “Handle his presence on board?”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “I do not intend to handle it at all, Iris. I will avoid as much contact with him as I can and treat what little time remains with cool professionalism.”

“And if he broaches the subject?”

Rachel spun in her chair to face the first mate. “If he attempts to engage me with a discussion on our previous dealings I will warn him once. If he doesn’t comply I will toss him overboard myself.”

“You wouldn’t do such a thing.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger and spoke through gritted teeth. “Bother me about it much more, and I might make an example of you.”

Iris said nothing, but wore a smug smile. The captain stood.

“I have charts to mark up,” Rachel said.

“You’re not going down to dinner?”

“Not hungry.” She reached for the door. “Maybe later I’ll have Danton send something up.”

Without another word, she was off down the stairs, out onto the deck, and down the passage to her quarters.

The next twenty-four hours were blessedly uneventful, and Rachel took the opportunity to not only get all the charting done for the journey to Baraawe, but to begin her sketches for ship upgrades. Despite her best efforts to ignore Silas’s presence on board, she could barely resist the urge to ask for his assistance in drawing up the plans. These details weren’t her strong suit. Small ideas she tackled easily, but the mechanics and calculations required for this sort of engine work were far beyond her capabilities.

It was near dinnertime on their second day of travel and she was perched on the railing, one leg dangling over the side, the other firmly planted on the deck. Rachel was trying to think through the pipe schematics of the ballast tanks, determining where they would intertwine with the new exhaust output. It wasn’t an easy thing to do, but she’d spent countless hours staring at blueprints and needed a change of scenery. A fresh blast of sea air chilled her slightly and cleared her mind, and she started over, mentally tracing the pipes.

The sound of a throat clearing made her jump. She thought she was alone, with most of the crew being on watch or at the evening meal. As she spun around, she instantly regretted her hasty movements. She lost her balance and began to fall when two strong hands reached out and steadied her.

“You know, that isn’t a very safe place to sit.” Silas grinned at her startled expression.

Mortified and angry, she pushed him away, only to lose her balance a second time. He grabbed her again, chuckling. “Maybe try a thank you instead of brute force against someone helping you and you might have better luck.”

She clutched at the rail and stood. “I’m fine now, thank you. Why aren’t you at dinner?”

Instead of answering her, he began a grand solo performance: a dramatic dialogue between himself and himself. “Why Silas, it is indeed a surprise to see you again,” he said in a feigned feminine voice, then spun to the side, facing oppositely. “And you as well, dear lady. Had I known your occupation at the time, I would have had quite a bit more to ask you the other evening.” He turned again. “I prefer to maintain a low profile when going ashore, good sir.” Another spin. “Ah, where are my manners? I completely forgot to thank you for the fine shirt you left for me.” The feminine voice returned. “No thanks are necessary. I could not leave you with garments in such a ruined state.”

He continued this imaginary banter for a few moments more as she tried to decipher what was happening. When she realized he was having a bit of fun with her, her face grew hot with a new wave of anger. “
Mister
Jensen, are you quite through?”

He stopped in the middle of another of the faux-female comments. “I suppose I could be if you like, but I was rather enjoying the joke myself.”

Rachel didn’t see the humor in the situation, and she stepped to him, so closely that her nose was nearly touching his. “I will tell you this only once, Mr. Jensen. I’ve worked very hard to earn the respect of everyone aboard this ship, and I will not have it undone by you. Don’t address me so casually in the future. We are not friends, companions, or anything of the sort. You are here on a business agreement, and nothing more. Are. We. Clear?”

The punctuation of her final words left no room for misinterpretation. The smile faded from his face and his wistful gray eyes met hers. She balked, the sudden memory of his lips on hers derailing her anger.

“Unequivocally clear, Captain.” He broke eye contact and gave a light bow. “I understand our relationship very well.”

“Good. Then the matter is settled.” She brushed past him on her way back to the sanctuary of her private quarters.

“Am I to assume that you won’t be wanting my help with any improvements to your fine vessel then?” he called after her.

She halted and turned to face him. “Mr. Jensen, when I have a need for you, I will tell you so.”

He gave her a wry smile. “I do hope so, Captain Sterling. I look forward to proving just how skilled I am with my hands.”

Her face burned crimson again at this innuendo and she stormed off in a huff, too flustered and furious to broach the subject of the blueprints she’d been studying.

Silas watched as she flung open the door leading below deck and tromped down the stairs. Even in her fury, she was irresistible. In fact, it was that spirit of hers that attracted him in the first place. Regardless that she probably knew a hundred different ways to kill him, all he could think of was how wonderful it felt to see her again, even if she seemed to hate him now.

Her scent lingered in the air, a light, woody fragrance, then dissipated as another breeze blew across the deck. Silas looked out over the horizon, watching the sun drifting into the sea. He wished he could conduct himself with the same control Rachel exhibited. She had extra incentive, he supposed, what with a crew of men watching her every move. Of the fact that they were watching, he was certain. The attitudes of men were not easily changed. At that, he felt a pang of empathy for the captain. It must be exhausting to spend every waking moment on guard, maintaining a posture of absolute invulnerability. The eyes of men were everywhere, following each sway of her hips and upward curve of her smile. Developing a reputation for unyielding ferocity would be the only way to command respect.
 

He wondered if, had he known Rachel’s true identity, would he have gotten so involved with her? Possibly not, as he’d never have had the courage to speak with her to begin with, let alone…

Silas sighed, doing his best to push away those memories. It would do him little good to dwell on things that would never again be. Not that it mattered much, as likely the Brotherhood would see him dead by the end of this adventure. Perhaps it was just as well this romance had played itself out.

She dropped the cog-shaped key to her door three times before her hands steadied enough to set the inlaid gears into motion. This was exactly why she never, ever pursued lasting relationships with men. All this nonsense with Silas tried her patience. Her initial encounter with him was a nice experience, true, but that didn’t mean she wanted to haul him half way across the world for a repeat performance. The key dropped a fourth time as she removed it from the hidden lock, and she kicked the wall in frustration before bending to retrieve it.

“So it is true.” Danton’s chiding was like the grinding of ungreased gears to her nerves. “It seems our Monsieur Jensen is more than you bargained for.”

She whirled on him, eyes blazing. “I don’t need another voice telling me I told you so, Monsieur DuSalle. Things are mucked up enough, and I don’t need your condescension to add to my list of reasons to kick everyone off of this ship, retire, and live out my days as a hermit in Tahiti.”

Danton immediately retreated. “My apologies,
Madame le Capitaine
. I did not realize things were going so badly for you.”

“Is there something you need or did you come here only to further irritate me?” She placed her hands on her hips and tried to calm her voice, but the fire remained in her eyes.

“Ah
oui
, I have a small matter to discuss with you.” He crossed his arms. “This young man we have aboard, Eddie, I believe?”

“Yes. What of him?”

“It seems he’s been a bother to about half the crew thus far. The boy has endless questions about the ship and how it all works.”

“And, what is it you wish me to do, assign him a nanny?”

“In essence,
oui
. I’ve no idea who could be spared though. It would have to be someone both patient and knowledgeable in the mechanics of this craft.”

A deviant grin spread across Rachel’s mouth, visibly worrying Danton. “I believe I have just the solution.” She was quite pleased with herself at her idea. “Fetch Iris for me, and please, join us as soon as the meal has concluded. Bring the exuberant Mr. Maclaren with you when you return.”

Iris’s placid smile vaporized at the news. “You wish me to
what
, Captain?”

“Teach him.” Rachel was positively beaming with devilish delight. “You’ve demonstrated time and again how very patient you can be with others. It seems to me that this would be the perfect task for you, especially since you have so little to do right now.”

Iris tried to stammer out a reason to give this job to someone else, but a knocking at the cabin door cut her off. “Enter,” Rachel called cheerfully.

Danton stepped into the room tentatively, Eddie craning around the side of him to see in. “You asked me to bring the boy…”

Rachel stood and motioned to the remaining two chairs in front of her desk.

“Gentlemen, so glad you could join us. I was just informing Miss Singh of her new duties.” Danton shot Iris an uncomfortable, quizzical look, but she returned nothing except for obvious indignation. “Mr. Maclaren, I understand you have many questions about our fine vessel.”

“Yes, ma’am!” he said. “I want to know how everything aboard works. It’s completely fascinating!”

Rachel’s smile nearly oozed honey it was so saccharine. “It is now the job of the first mate, Miss Singh, to see that your questions get answered. You have my word that no one, aside from myself, knows more about the
Antigone’s Wrath
.” He made to speak but she continued on. “In addition, our master-at-arms, Monsieur DuSalle, will be devoting two hours of every evening after the last meal to instruct you in combat techniques.” Danton’s jaw flopped open in shock at this news. “No person aboard my ship will be without the means to defend him or herself.”

“You’re going to teach me how to fight?” Eddie asked, incredulous.

“
Danton
will teach you how to
defend
, not fight,” she corrected him. “I don’t believe in violence for the sake of violence. One should always rely on their wits first and foremost, and only resort to baser means if there is no other way.”

The boy nodded enthusiastically, intent on every word she spoke. “Your first lesson with Monsieur DuSalle will be tonight. You’ll find Miss Singh tomorrow morning after breakfast. The three of you are now excused.” Iris and Danton both made to protest, but Rachel repeated herself with more force. “I said, you are excused.”

They left the room, the two crewmembers pouting childishly behind Eddie’s excited, bouncing figure. Rachel felt considerably better now that she had helped to spread a touch of her own misery. She would drop by Danton’s teaching session later, but first she had blueprints to review.

A crowd was gathered on the deck when Rachel checked in on Eddie’s lesson. The crew always took an interest whenever Danton demonstrated fighting techniques. Rachel wanted to make sure he was only instructing the boy in defense. Young men his age could be reckless, and she would not be responsible for handing this one the tools to be even more so.

It was good to see that Eddie was standing as Danton sent a few thrusts of a fencing foil his way. The boy tentatively swung the sword, batting away the almost playful swings the master-at-arms sent his way. This was to be expected from a novice. She was glad to see him unsure, as overconfidence guaranteed a sound beating from Danton, although most of the crew would welcome that spectacle.

Danton struck again, this time disarming the boy. The foil went clattering to the floor. “What did I tell you to watch for?” he asked as Eddie bent to retrieve the sword. “The foot placement and body positioning that signal that strike…”

“Sorry, sir,” Eddie apologized. “I couldn’t see a difference.”

“Then we shall continue until you can.” Danton leveled the tip of the foil at him again.

Rachel itched to work out some of her frustrations with the blueprints in a more physical manner. Quiet as a cat, she slid a dagger out of the sheath of a distracted crewman and positioned herself at Danton’s back, still obscured by the onlookers. It had been a while since she had a lesson of her own, and the example might be good for Eddie.

She slipped to the front, still maintaining an unobtrusive stance so as not to alert any of the bystanders or the participants to her intentions. She watched for a few more moments, the weapon hidden beneath her crossed arms. Danton began another series of forward lunges and a diatribe of defense advice. She used this as her chance. It took her only a few steps and she reached him, the dagger carefully pointed below his rib cage near his spine.

“My turn,” she whispered in his ear.

Without a pause to respond, Danton tucked and rolled away from her, tossing aside the fencing foil in exchange for a sharpened cutlass. Rather than follow, she hurled the knife towards him and it stuck in the barrel full of training weapons. Another crewman tossed her a cutlass matching Danton’s, and they squared off. Several hands grabbed for Eddie, and the crowd swallowed him up within seconds.

She brought the sword up in salute and cut down as she readied her stance. “By your leave?”

Danton smiled approvingly and mirrored her salute and cut. “And here I thought I would be relegated to a few weak stabs at a complete novice this evening.”