Chapter 9

What the devil was Hestia up to? Alex had not seen her for two days. He no longer had to make plans to avoid her because it appeared she was avoiding him.

She took great pains to stay out of his way, and every time he turned around she was with either David or Jacob. He should be happy that his plan to push Hestia toward David was working, but hell, for a woman he’d spent the last two years trying to avoid her pursuit of him, she seemed rather fickle with her affections.

His eyes narrowed as he watched her help David attend to an injured sailor.

Or was she playing games, hoping he would care that he was no longer the center of her world?

Damn it, he did care! Yet he shouldn’t. This voyage was about revenge. Nothing more. He couldn’t let his desire for her cloud his mind.

When he stepped out of his cabin that morning after a late shift on deck, she was already at the table.

She barely glanced his way, her nose in a book. No smile from her pouty, sensuous lips like she usually gave him, and he missed that.

“Good morning, Hestia.”

“Good morning. The eggs will still be hot if you’d like some. I can get Cook to bring more ham.”

He waved the food away, merely pouring a coffee to clear the fuzz in his brain. He’d not been sleeping well, choosing instead to walk the deck at night rather than laudanum to keep the nightmares at bay.

“I’ll be out of your way in a minute. Since David always uses his cabin as a place to treat the men, I’ve promised him to help clean out the cabin he is using on this voyage to make a space for surgery. One of the men has a terrible splinter in his foot.”

The fact that she wanted to leave his company stabbed his pride and ego. He used to be her sunshine. “There is no rush; in fact, I’d like to talk with you and learn as much as possible about your father’s plans.”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure that I have any information that could help you. I have brought his last letter with me, where my father told me he was based on Thera, but that he was heading to Kos.”

A black darkness rushed toward him, in small ripples that soon turned into enormous waves, like spilled ink over a desk. Kos was the center of his nightmares.

He barely felt the hand that came to rest on his forearm. “Are you all right, Alex?” Her soft words were filled with concern.

He swallowed down the bile that suddenly swamped his mouth and chased away the disturbing pictures flooding his head by concentrating on the beauty of her blue eyes.

“Not enough sleep last night. I’ll be fine once I get some fresh air.”

The concern in her eyes did not dim, so he answered her. “I know Kos well,” he said, almost choking on the words.

That wasn’t quite true. He knew Murad’s palace stronghold on the cliffs of Kos extremely well. The rest of the island he did not have a chance to explore before he escaped. And when he did, he fled its shores faster than lightning, with the devil on his heels.

“Is there something about Kos I should know?”

He looked at her blankly for a moment. “It’s a dangerous island, a Turkish stronghold and very near Bodrum, a village on the coast of Turkey. Pirates operate unhindered in the area.”

Her eyes filled with fear at the word pirates. He could not bring himself to tell her Murad’s palace was on Kos. If Alex had not rescued her all those years ago, she too would have ended up in a prison made of marble.

“I will leave you with friends in Corfu,” he offered. “You’ll be safe there.”

She shook her head. “No. I’m safer with you.”

He could not argue with that. What worried him was that if Murad was still alive and he learned the earl was on Kos, Hestia’s father would become Murad’s number-one target. Murad would want his revenge against the earl for helping Alex escape. The earl must know the danger Murad poses, so why was he risking capture?

“Once we reach the Mediterranean it would be safer if you stayed below deck. You can come up to stretch your legs and get fresh air once night has fallen.”

He watched a shiver dance over her slender frame. “You will get no argument from me. I am very aware of the dangers, to you, the ship and crew, and myself.”

Hestia had always been a logical female.

“David informs me we shall be taking on provisions in Mallorca. Will I be able to disembark there?”

Alex only just stopped himself from flinching at the use of his friend’s first name. This is what he wanted. He wanted Hestia to at least like David so that if the need was there, she would not oppose the idea of matrimony with David, so he could keep her safe.

“Jacob does not believe we are being followed, but we will have to be careful. Fredrick trades in this region and I’m sure the men he has on his payroll are not pleasant fellows. If he has learned of our deception he may well have men looking for us. You may go ashore as long as you take Jacob and his men with you, and you dress as a man.”

She did not even try to argue. “David has said he’d escort me. I want to buy more cloth to make more shirts. The old shirts in my trunk are a tad too tight across my…”

He tried not to look, but as a vigorous man his gaze dropped to her pert and bountiful breasts. Over the years he had not been blind to the way she had grown into a voluptuous young woman. When she nervously wet her lips he almost groaned. Instead, he was pleased he was seated at the table.

“I meant to thank you for keeping my old clothes.”

Damn, the adoration was back in her eyes. He still to this day did not understand why he had kept the trunk. Probably because Hestia’s presence on that dreadful trip home from the Mediterranean was the only thing that stopped his disappointment at letting Murad slip through his fingers eat him to the bone.

So he did what any man would do, he lied. “Thank Jacob. He organized it all.”

“Jacob? I must thank him. The trunk has been most useful. I wonder why he kept my things? Perhaps he thought to give them to a new cabin boy?” At her raised eyebrow he knew it sounded a lame excuse. Why would Jacob wash and keep her clothes? Why would he? Why did Alex?

He wanted to remember a happy time. It was that simple, but he could not tell her that. He hated how even now she affected him when no other woman did. Why did it have to be her? Was it because she too had, for a short time, been a victim of Murad?

Four years ago, days after she had disembarked after their journey home from Greece, Hestia’s enthralling scent had lingered, soothing his anger at his failure. He had lost his one opportunity to kill Murad and get his revenge. His mood became so atrocious Jacob threatened to throw him overboard.

What bothered him more was that Hestia filled his thoughts and made his failure easier to bear. Rescuing her was the one good thing he’d done when in the Mediterranean. He would still hear her sweet voice echoing through the ship. He had envied how quickly she could put her kidnapping and what happened at Murad’s hands behind her. Still, she had only been a captive for a few days, and in Murad’s presence for but moments. He on the other hand had endured almost two years…

This trip threw his emotions askew. One moment he wanted to thank Jacob and David for keeping her company and out of his way, but then his darker side emerged and he wanted to slice off their tongues as they regaled him with daily updates on her activities. She had the two of them wrapped around her little finger. They adored her.

But the nights were the worst torture. The only thing that kept the nightmares at bay was if he dreamed of her. Her lush body beneath his, or over him, in front of him…every which way a man can make love to a woman, until his groin throbbed with need.

“I’ll go and find Jacob to thank him, if there is nothing else.” Her words broke through his reminiscing and grounded him back in the present.

“I’m sure Jacob would be embarrassed by your thanks.”

“Just like you would be. I know what you are sacrificing for me.” She paused. “I know you never wanted to return to Greece.”

His chest clenched at the look of pity in her eyes. Hestia thought he was doing this for her and her father. In a way he was, but he’d jumped at rescuing her father for his own selfish reasons. Revenge drove him.

“Don’t look at me like that, Hestia. You definitely do not need to thank me.” Her mouth twisted up on one side and he knew she did not believe him, but there was no way in hell he was going to reveal his plan to go after Murad.

Anger spurred him to say something when he should have bitten his tongue. “You think I’m some kind of hero because I rescued you all those years ago. You have no idea who I really am. I’m just a man.”

She stood and moved around the table to stand at his side. Cupping his chin, she stared into his eyes for what seemed forever. “True. You’ve only ever let me know the hero; I’d love to know the man.”

Then she bent and placed a soft kiss to his lips before abruptly turning and leaving the cabin.

“No you wouldn’t,” he whispered to the empty cabin. A wave of unease crept over his skin. He didn’t want her to know the man beneath his facade, because she would be very disappointed if not disgusted.

“I’d love to know the man.” It was a husky entreaty in her voice that filled him with such longing. He almost believed she might forgive him his trespasses.

His body was tearing itself up inside. He hated wanting her when he knew he did not deserve her. A feeling of such loss overcame him and it was so painful he almost doubled over, laying his head on the table.

This is what he had feared. She would needle her way under his skin and his resolve would be shaken. He pushed back his chair, not caring that it crashed behind him. He gripped the table as a dizzy wave of longing gripped him. He took a few deep breaths and felt the power of the ship beneath his feet. His resolve was back. No happy ending, just his revenge—that’s all he could see, all he’d allow himself to see, of his future.

Then he strode for the deck, feelings of self-loathing suffocating him. He burst out onto the deck, tears in his eyes, his chest heaving for fresh, cool, air. He knew without a sliver of doubt that he was doing the right thing for Hestia. Protecting her. Protecting her not only against Fredrick, but also from becoming tied to a man who saw nothing but hate, death, and revenge.

His body filled with pain, smothering the ache of his physical need for release. The call of the laudanum bottle could be heard above the sounds of the rigging, but he’d sworn off the drops until Murad was dead. Then he could lose himself in a dream world. A world where he had a chance at happiness with a woman he might have been able to love, if Murad had not twisted his heart and soul into something black and evil all those years ago.

He should feel at peace with his decision, but he knew it was one more thing to hate himself for. In his cowardice at facing a future that he might never have, he would hurt her.

And he’d never forgive himself for that.

Fear. So much fear.

That’s what she saw when she looked into Alex’s eyes. She had never considered a man like Alex would be afraid of anything, but until four years ago she never knew men like Murad existed. Being held captive for only a few days still gave her nightmares, yet Alex had been his captive for over two years.

Sick to her stomach with guilt, she made her way to David’s cabin to help with the sailors’ medical needs.

This was her fault. She should never have gone to Alex for help. She knew the type of man he was and knew he would never have refused her.

That’s what appealed about Alex. He was handsome as sin on the outside, strong, chiseled jaw, but he was soft and lovable on the inside. His warmth and humility drew her like a moth to a brightly burning flame.

Well, she’d wanted to learn more about him and she had. He had fears and nightmares.

She vowed to protect him as much as she could. She bit her lip. What if when they got to Mallorca she paid to send a message to her father? Perhaps Jacob could help her find someone reliable. Then she would instruct Alex to return home. Her father, once warned, would have to take responsibility for his own safety.

If something happened to Alex because he was helping her father, she would never forgive herself.