The Decoy Princess (28 page)

Yet I was holding my breath when he cupped my cheek in his palm and leaned close. I let him draw me in, and my eyes closed as he tilted his head and met my lips again. Stronger, the feeling of warmth rose in me. My breath slipped in, gathering my will and seeming to melt me into him. I sent my fingers to link behind him, pulling him closer.

So slow it was almost unnoticed, his gentle kiss shifted from inquisition to a deeper heat. The growing hint of his restrained need was like a spark, jumping from him to me. The feeling crashed over me in a warm wash, shocking me to stillness as it drew from me a surprising, almost desperate need I’d never felt before.

Shocked, I pulled away. My hands dropped from him, and I stood with my back to the counter, frightened. I knew better than to let a kiss become more than a kiss.

Duncan looked at me, seeming to have to catch himself. “You started it,” he said, his voice low and husky as he stood with his arms at his sides, a heady mix of want and restraint in his stance.

I swallowed hard, frightened that I had slipped so badly. “I shouldn’t have done that,” I said softly.

“I’m sorry.” Unable to meet his eyes, I headed for the open door.

“Sorry?” A jolt went through me as he grabbed my upper arm, halting me. His eyes were angry, and I let him pinch me, thinking I deserved far worse for having mislead him like that. “You can’t tell me you didn’t like that.”

“Of course I liked it,” I said. “It was the most—” My words caught. I couldn’t tell him it had been the most sensuous, the most passion-lost feeling I’d ever let myself experience and that I’d do almost anything to feel it again. “I can’t do this, Duncan,” I whispered, frightened. “I can’t do this, right now.”

His hand loosened, and I continued out into the sun. The wind beat at me, seeming to take the last of my certainty with it.

“Well then, when can you?” he called belligerently after me. I clutched my cloak about myself and went to stand at the railing. I would have thought he was no better than an animal, but that I was wondering the same thing about myself.

Twenty

The breeze was glorious up on deck, lifting through my hair in a wonderful sensation. The curly strands were smooth and silky against my fingers—and about a foot shorter since I’d cut them to fall midback instead of to my waist. I was finally clean, and it felt
so good
. My dress clung uncomfortably to my shoulders, the waistband of my red underskirt was positively damp, and my stockings had fallen apart to rags in their wash, but I didn’t care. I was clean.

I stood between the water and sky on the deck of the
Sandpiper
adrift off Brenton. The faint noise from the small cluster of buildings was lost behind the excitement of the horses being winched over the side, and it was only knowing I would be leaving the
Sandpiper
that dulled my satisfaction.

I had finally gotten my bath this morning, taking it in the captain’s quarters since the crew would have mutinied had I bathed elsewhere. Duncan had toted the buckets of water across the deck from the galley.

He was sulking, now. I had confronted him about his mood, thinking it was from our kiss. I had said that I was sorry, that he had every right to be angry but that he would do better to forget about it. He had turned belligerent then, telling me not to flatter myself and that he was angry I had gamed with the captain without him, not about some fool kiss from a tease of a woman who couldn’t control herself.

I had soothed my injured pride by throwing the soap at him, thinking he probably believed that. And he had good reason for being upset about my card game. As crew, Duncan wasn’t allowed to play cards with the captain. He hadn’t even been allowed to watch, since only the first mate was allowed into the captain’s common room. The small chamber had quickly become my favorite spot on the boat, a cozy oasis from cold looks and cutting wind.

Thankfully, the captain’s fatherly coddling had vanished as soon as he realized my skill at cards rivaled his. By the end of it, I not only had the water for my bath but the fuel to heat it.

The captain and I were on excellent terms now, having shared much conversation and tea. He had a tea leaf equaling the quality I had grown up on and, saint’s bells preserve us, the honey to go with it. I found he was quite the learned man, eager to tell an appreciative ear of his stories: dark-skinned women who went about half-naked under a sun strong enough to strike a man dead, warriors bedecked with feathers, spices that burned from the inside, clever animals with tiny faces and hands like men, and music beaten from drums to drive one mad.

In return, I entertained him with anecdotes from the palace. He readily accepted my story that I was a member of the court fleeing the possibility of war. It explained my skill at sums and why I spoke the way I did. I thought the randy behavior of men and women of noble standing boring, but he listened with a rapt attention. Of the darker news of the capital, I was circumspect. I couldn’t bear that Captain Borlett would become an officer and his trading of salt and grain would turn to flaming tar and metal. I said nothing of my parents’ death, only that the Misdev prince was making irrational demands, forcing the wedding to take place immediately. It wasn’t a lie, just a very large omission and a drastic understatement of Garrett’s actions.

I would say nothing to start a war. The memory of my people stoning the assassin to death in the streets eight years ago was very clear in my mind. I didn’t want them to take matters into their own hands when diplomacy and a well-placed knife could end the problem with no loss of life but Garrett’s.

“Tess!” called a voice behind me, and recognizing the captain’s bellow, I turned. Smiling, I pulled the hair from my eyes, only now realizing I hadn’t worn my topknot and darts since the first night. “Tess,” he repeated as he came close. “You’re looking… clean.”

“Thank you.” I squinted up at him, a hand held over my eyes. “It’s a charmer of a day.”

He nodded, his gaze going up the mast to where his flag fluttered. “Aye. We’ll be heading out of the bay from here, and then to Lovrege.”

There was a warning shout, and we both looked to where Duncan was struggling to fasten a looping harness around Tuck. The poor animal was near panic, his eyes wide and wild. Pitch had already gone over the side, winched to the water and left to swim to the shore. Jeck’s horse would be last. The rude shouts of the crewmen in the unseen dinghy floated up.

“I should go,” I said regretfully. “I don’t think the black gelding will give you much trouble. Pitch is almost to the beach. One of us should be there to make sure no one takes her.”

“My crew will keep an eye on her,” he said. “I’ve two ashore buying water and wood.”

Tuck whinnied when the straps tightened about him and his feet left the deck. I reached out, relieved when the animal went stiff, all his legs into a four-posted position.

“See?” Captain Borlett said. “I knew he’d be all right. My lads know what to do.”

Duncan shouted a nervous encouragement from the railing as Tuck was swung out over the water and three crewmen began slowly winching him down. The horse’s feet touched the water, and he exploded into helpless motion. He was frantic, and the weighted ropes tangled.

“Hey, hup!” a sailor in the dinghy called. “He’s caught! He’s gonna drowned himself!”

“Tuck!” Duncan cried, his voice cracking in fear. He watched in horror as the horse struggled.

Lunging over the railing, Duncan fell into the water. I ran to the side, but the horse calmed as Duncan touched him. Talking loudly to Tuck, he untangled the rope, and the two started swimming for the nearby shore.

“I should go,” I said, halting my motion to leave as the captain cleared his throat.

“Ma’am,” he said formally, extending an envelope sealed with a drop of wax. I took it, mystified.

Seeing my confusion, he added, “It’s a recommendation. A written one.” He looked embarrassed as he ran his grip over his graying beard. “You did a capital job with my books. That’s my recommendation that any captain would be lucky to trade your figuring with numbers for passage.” His eyes crinkled. “In case you find yourself in a hurry again.”

I beamed. It was the first time I had done something on my own, and I had done it well. “Thank you,”

I said, tucking the valuable paper away. He had no idea how delighted I was.

“And this,” the squat man said, handing me a cloth-wrapped package. He stood ramrod straight beside me and rocked on his heels, his gaze on the forested hills before us.

I unfolded it to find a small jar of honey. But then I noticed what it was wrapped in, and my lips parted. I glanced from the square of fabric to the flag atop the highest mast. “It’s your flag!” I breathed as the standard—a gold field with three black slashes—fluttered in the breeze.

“Aye,” he said. “It’s so I can find you this winter, wherever you might be—if you like. I’ll be looking for it. And you can do my books again. I may have to go out to the southern islands. It will be a long trip.

You can bring your man, there. Just not his horse.”

My throat went tight. If only I could. “Thank you,” I said, suddenly loath to leave.

“Fly it from a pole in sight of the dock,” he said, staring off into nothing. “I’ll find you.”

I wrapped the honey back in his flag, unable to say anything. Throat tight, I gathered my skirts and one-handedly levered myself over the railing and down the rope ladder. It was Haron who helped me make the jump to the rocking dinghy. His small hand was rough in mine, and I appreciated his grudging help. Jeck’s horse reached the water the same time as I did. The weighted ropes slipped smoothly from him, and the levelheaded horse set out for the beach.

The
Sandpiper
fell from me in even, rhythmic surges of motion. The lump in my throat surprised me.

My hands drifted upward to bind my hair in a topknot with a bit of twine. By the time the dinghy scraped the rocky beach, my few remaining darts were in place.

Miserable, I stood to disembark. Haron stepped into the water, and with no warning, scooped me off my feet and sloshed the few steps to land. “Thank you,” I said, flustered, as he set me down. He smelled of wind and sweat. I glanced at Duncan making baby sounds at his shivering horse. The men threw our packs to land out of the surf. They were replaced with a bundle of wood and cask of water that two crewmen had rolled forward.

“I still think women on water are unlucky,” Haron said at my elbow, and I spun, surprised. “But the captain… He says you can hear it. The sea, I mean.” His gaze flicked away, then back to mine. “Can you?”

Vision blurring, I looked at the
Sandpiper
and nodded. I had felt safe there. And free.

“It don’t seem right,” he said as he touched his red cap and stepped barefoot into the surf. “Why would God let a woman hear the sea if she’s not supposed to brave the waves?”

He pushed the boat into deeper water, the scrape of the keel seeming to grate across my soul, wounding me. His question wasn’t a taunt; he was confused. I’d cracked his beliefs.

Taking a quick breath, I wiped a hand under my nose and turned my back on the sea.

Brenton lay before me, small and disorganized. I nervously checked my topknot to see that all was as it should be, and my worry about Jeck thundered down. The wind in the leaves became threatening, and the slightest twitch of the horses’ ears caught my attention. There seemed to be an animosity or cunning in the curious stares of the few passing townsfolk. They were dirty, and I had yet to see anyone with shoes.

The entire town stank of fish. I had never seen anything as filthy and poor as Brenton. I pulled my cloak tighter about my shoulders, wondering what else I had missed living behind my walls.

Slipping awkwardly on the stone beach, I went to Duncan. “Is Tuck all right?” I asked, but he didn’t answer, the back of his neck going red as he continued to fuss over his horse.
Chu
, I thought. He was worse than Heather, thinking he could punish me by ignoring me.

Frowning at his infantile behavior, I led Pitch and Jeck’s horse into the stream that bisected Brenton.

My skirts tied high to keep them from going damp, I dumped water over the horses using the bowl from my pack to get rid of the salt. I used the remnant of my stockings to dry the back of Jeck’s horse before arranging my pack and riding pad on him.

Duncan said nothing, keeping with his cold silence. He stomped into the stream, sitting up to his armpits to let the current wash out the salt. Dunking himself, he slicked his hair back as he came up. Still dripping, he splashed off Tuck and led him up the steep embankment to the street. I followed, and we silently headed into town. There was no dock, but there was probably a tavern where I could ask after Kavenlow.

I didn’t look back at the
Sandpiper
. My chest was tight with a confused frustration. With Captain Borlett’s letter, I had freedom. I had no earthly reason not to abandon my position as the princess’s double. Except that to flee would allow Garrett to live. And I wanted him dead.

“Look at her,” Duncan said crossly to Tuck as we found our place among the noise and stink of people again. “Did I tell you she made me carry fourteen buckets of water across the deck of that burning ship? Madam princess wants to burning wash her hair. Madam princess wants to burning wash her clothes. It’s burning unfair. And what’s worse, she didn’t even let me watch her win it. She burning well cheats, Tuck. Otherwise, she would’ve let me watch.”

“I didn’t cheat,” I said, frustrated. I still thought it was the kiss, not the cards.

“Hear that bird singing, Tuck?” Duncan mocked. “Have you ever heard such an annoying twitter in all your life?”

I frowned. Duncan’s feet squished in his wet boots, keeping exact time with my pace.

“No one wins at cards that often unless they cheat,” he continued, speaking to his horse but talking to me. “She cheats, Tuck, sure as you’re a gelding, poor sod. But how she does it, I can’t tell.” He was silent for three heartbeats. “If she told me, I might talk to her again.”