So I Married a Sorcerer

  She closed her eyes briefly, then gave him a weary look. “I was so close to getting away. Why did ye have to stop me?”

  He could say he needed her for the ransom. Or claim he was helping her because she would be worse off with her brother. Or he could explain how dangerous it would have been for her to travel alone with no protection. But the yearning in his heart overpowered all his logical thoughts, so instead, he whispered, “Reason number five.”

  Her eyes widened.

  He wanted to spend more time with her. He wanted to get to know her. And dammit, he suspected he simply wanted her. He motioned toward the ladder. “Ladies first.”

  She grabbed a rung, but the weight of her wet clothes made it difficult for her to climb. He planted a hand on her bottom to give her a boost up to the next rung.

  “Stop that.” She turned toward him, and his heart stuttered in his chest.

  Her breasts were now above sea level, and the white linen shirt was glued to them, blatantly showing the sweet round contours, the extra plumpness of her nipples, and even the tips as they hardened in reaction to the cooler air. A sound escaped him, somewhere between a moan and a gasp.

  “Oh!” She dropped back into the sea.

  He glanced up and spotted Tucker and some other crewmen staring down at them. “Get back to your jobs!” As they scattered, another face peered over the railing. The nun. “Sister, please fetch her cloak.”

  The nun nodded and ran off.

  Next to him, Brigitta groaned, her hand pressed against her chest.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll carry you up, so no one can see. Just climb onto my back.” His mouth quirked. “And wrap your legs around me and squeeze me tight.”

  She snorted. “That again?”

  “Just trying to help.”

  “No thank you.” She started up the ladder again. “Be a gentleman, if you can, and try not to stare.”

  “As you wish.” He stared at her nicely rounded rump as she ascended.

  When she reached the top, she slipped over the railing and Sister Fallyn wrapped her up in a cloak. By the time he reached the railing, they had disappeared belowdecks.

  He glanced toward the dinghy he’d abandoned. His hat was there, and his jacket with the notice about Gunther’s competition. His mask was floating a few feet away.

  Stefan and Ansel were in another rowboat, approaching the abandoned dinghy. They would tow it in, along with the boat Brigitta had used for her escape.

  If only she had waited. He was determined now to let her decide her own destiny. But apparently, she didn’t trust him, either, so she’d felt compelled to take matters into her own hands. He would have to be careful she didn’t uncover any more of his secrets. She knew his face now, but she still didn’t know his true identity.

  Ye’ve lost before. Everyone ye loved. Her words came back to him. Did she know more than he thought?

  And why did she go limp every time he touched her? She’d scared the shit out of him when she’d sunk underwater. He had to know what was going on. Hell, he wanted to know all of her secrets.

  But he needed to figure them out, without telling her any of his.

  Chapter Twelve

  He was indeed handsome.

  Don’t think about him, Brigitta told herself as she peeled off her wet shirt in the privy. If it hadn’t been for Rupert’s interference, she would have escaped. Blast him!

  She unfastened her belt and let the baggy breeches slide to the floor. Sweetheart, are you eager to undress me? Good goddesses, had he really said that to her?

  Stop thinking about him!

  The minute she’d landed on deck, Sister Fallyn had flung a cloak around her and whisked her down the steps to their cabin, all the time thanking the goddesses for her safe return. After gathering up her cream-colored convent gown and one of Sister Ellen’s old shifts, they’d headed down to the privy.

  And now, Sister Fallyn was standing guard outside the door. “Wash up quickly!” she yelled. “We can’t have ye catching a cold.”

  “Aye, Sister!” Brigitta dropped her sodden shift on top of the white shirt and breeches. He was indeed very handsome. And in his hurry to rescue her, he’d taken off his mask. Did that mean he cared more about her than preserving his secret identity?

  Who was he really? She suspected his real name wasn’t even Rupert.

  She undid her braided hair, then slipped inside the stall that Jeffrey had called a shower. Perhaps it would be like a rain shower? Whoever Rupert was, he was very clever with all his inventions.

  On a shelf, she found a jar of soap. She lifted it to her nose and sniffed. A woodsy, smoky scent. Very masculine. Like Rupert. Don’t think about him.

  She pulled a lever and gasped when a barrage of cool water cascaded over her head.

  Gooseflesh broke out over her skin. Brr, she would definitely need to be quick about this. She lathered up her hair, then remembered how he’d smoothed a hand over her head, checking for injuries. He’d touched her face and her mouth.

  With a shiver, she recalled the brush of his mouth against hers and how his breath had brought her back to her senses. He must have thought she was unconscious, but she hadn’t been. The minute he’d touched her, another vision had struck her hard, sucking her down into memories so dark and painful she’d thought she might drown.

  She shook her head, determined not to dwell on him any longer. But when she lathered her breasts, how could she not remember the way he’d looked at them? Even now, just thinking about it, her nipples grew tight, and her breasts felt full and achy. And the sound he had made, somewhere between pain and desire. Don’t think about it!

  When she soaped up her hips, she recalled his hand on her rump, giving her a boost. And when she washed her legs, she could almost feel his legs brushing against hers.

  Dear goddesses, she felt … strange, as if some sort of desperate need was overwhelming her, leaving her hot and breathless.

  She pulled the lever to let a gush of water cool her down and bring her back to her senses.

  But she still couldn’t wash away the vision that had shot through her the second he’d touched her.

  Don’t leave me, he’d whispered to her before pressing his mouth against hers. The words had served as an eerie echo to the first voice she’d heard in her vision.

  “Mother,” a young male voice, a younger Rupert, had cried as he’d leaned over, resting his face against a stone crypt. “Don’t leave me.”

  “I’m so sorry.” An older male voice had sounded like Captain Landers. “How did she die?”

  Another man had answered, “We all believed her husband and eldest son had been brutally murdered. She knew the same fate awaited her and the younger boy if they were captured. When the soldiers came for her, she ran up the nearby mountain. They chased her until she … she fell off a cliff to her death.”

  Brigitta had felt Rupert’s reaction like a knife to the heart. Pain so fierce, it had dragged her underwater.

  “What about the younger brother?” Captain Landers had asked.

  “No one knows,” the other man had replied. “He may have died with her, but if so, his body seems to have vanished. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll make sure this boy vanishes, too.”

  “Don’t leave me,” the adult Rupert had whispered, then he’d ended the vision by sharing his breath.

  And she’d opened her eyes to see his face. His handsome face. Why had he been forced to vanish from Tourin? Was that why he’d become a pirate?

  In the shower stall, a chill crept over her, prickling her skin. The ambush she’d seen, or perhaps the battle—that must have been when his father had been brutally murdered. She shuddered. Rupert had seen his father die. And then he’d lost his mother, too.

  Don’t leave me. Dear goddesses, her heart ached for him. Even though he was holding her captive, how could she hate him when he’d suffered so much?

  “Brigitta!” Sister Fallyn pounded on the door. “Are ye all right? What’s taking ye
so long?”

  “I’ll be right there.” She yanked the lever again so more water would rinse her off.

  After toweling dry and getting dressed, she wrapped the wet clothes in the towel and met Sister Fallyn in the passageway.

  “All that wet hair.” The nun shook her head. “We’ll be lucky if ye don’t get sick. I asked Jeffrey to bring some hot soup to our room.”

  They hurried up the stairs to their cabin and arrived just as Captain Landers did with a tray loaded down with a big tureen of soup, two bowls, and a basket of fresh bread.

  “Oh! Ye needn’t have troubled yerself, Captain.” Sister Fallyn tried to relieve him of the tray, but he brushed past her and set it on the table.

  “I thought it would be too heavy for Jeffrey,” he told the nun, then turned toward Brigitta. “Are you all right, my lady?”

  “Aye.” With a wince, she set the rolled-up towel on the table. “I apologize for taking yer clothes. I’ll return them after I wash—”

  “Jeffrey can wash them,” the captain interrupted. “And no need to apologize. We’re the ones who kidnapped the two of you.”

  Sister Fallyn snorted. “If ye’re truly sorry, ye’ll take us to Ebton Palace, where we belong.”

  “I would like to discuss the matter with you.” He stepped closer to the nun. “Perhaps you would have dinner with me tonight?”

  Sister Fallyn’s face turned pink. “Certainly not. I will not leave Brigitta unattended.”

  His mouth thinned. “I assure you, no harm will come to her on my ship.”

  Sister Fallyn scoffed. “That horrid Rupert nearly drowned her!” When Brigitta objected, the nun quickly added, “He made yer boat tip over. I saw it!”

  Brigitta sighed. If she had simply sat still, she doubted she would have fallen overboard. “Captain, I have something I need to return to you.” She rummaged through the pile of sodden clothes. Her slippers fell out of the pockets of the breeches, along with the dinner knife. They tumbled onto the floor, nearly missing her bare feet.

  She jumped back.

  “Careful!” Sister Fallyn quickly swooped up the knife. After drying it, she stuffed it under the pillow on the bed.

  Captain Landers scowled at her. “Mistress Fallyn, there is no need for you to stash weapons about the cabin. I have told you repeatedly that you are safe here.”

  “We must be prepared in case someone tries to ravish us,” the nun insisted. “And I have told you repeatedly to call me Sister Fallyn.”

  “And I have told you to call me Stefan.”

  She glared at him as he glared back.

  “Here it is.” Brigitta located his pouch of gold coins. “I shouldn’t have taken it, but—”

  “Keep it.” He gave them both a weary look. “It is the least I can do.” With his shoulders slumped, he shuffled out the door.

  “I think we hurt his feelings,” Brigitta whispered.

  Sister Fallyn’s cheeks bloomed a brighter pink. “He’s a pirate. Why should we care how he feels? Now sit down and eat.” She ladled soup from the tureen into the two bowls.

  As Brigitta sat, she noticed the nun’s hands were trembling. Was the captain affecting her? Hardly surprising, Brigitta thought. For Rupert was certainly affecting her.

  A few minutes into their meal, a loud, grinding noise echoed throughout the ship.

  Sister Fallyn gasped. “Whatever could that be?”

  “I think they’re raising the anchor.” Brigitta rushed to the window to look out. “We’re starting to move.”

  “Oh dear goddesses. What will become of us now?” Sister Fallyn ladled more soup into their bowls. “We must keep up our strength. Come back and eat some more.”

  Brigitta was halfway through the bowl when Jeffrey knocked on the door. “I have a package for you.” He came in, holding a bulky bundle wrapped in cloth.

  “Set it on the bed.” Brigitta started to stand, but Sister Fallyn jumped up first.

  “Finish yer soup,” the nun ordered. “I’ll take care of this.” She rushed to the bed to open the package.

  “Rupert and the captain bought this stuff for you in Danport,” Jeffrey explained.

  “Where are we headed now?” Brigitta asked.

  Jeffrey shrugged. “We won’t go far. We just left some gold in Danport, so we’ll stay close by for a few days.”

  Brigitta nodded. Rupert wanted to make sure the village was protected.

  “’Tis clothing,” Sister Fallyn said as she removed items from the package and laid them out on the bed.

  “Really?” Brigitta wandered over to the bed for a closer look. There were four new shifts, two nightgowns, and two new outfits that consisted of a dark-green woolen skirt, a white linen blouse, and a dark-green velvet vest that laced up the front. “They bought us new clothes. How nice of them!”

  Sister Fallyn scoffed. “They only did this because they feel guilty.”

  “If they were truly bad men,” Brigitta countered, “they wouldn’t feel guilty.”

  “That’s right,” Jeffrey agreed. “They’re not bad at all.”

  Sister Fallyn opened a drawstring pouch and removed the contents onto the bed. A hairbrush with a carved wooden handle, two toothbrushes with engraved silver handles, a small mirror made of polished silver, and a pottery jar tied shut with a ribbon.

  Brigitta untied the ribbon and looked inside. “’Tis soap.” She took a sniff. Roses. It smelled so heavenly, she was tempted to take another shower.

  Sister Fallyn picked up the hairbrush. “I was wondering how we would untangle yer wet hair.” She sighed. “’Twas thoughtful of them, I admit, but it makes me wonder how long they intend to keep us here.”

  “Oh, that reminds me.” Jeffrey turned to Brigitta. “Rupert wants you to eat dinner with him.”

  Brigitta’s heart started to pound.

  “Absolutely not!” Sister Fallyn declared. “She will not be alone with that man.”

  “But he gave you all these nice presents.” Jeffrey gave Brigitta a hopeful look. “He just wants to talk to you.”

  Sister Fallyn huffed. “Does he think we are easily swayed by a few trinkets?”

  Brigitta winced. Perhaps she was being too easily swayed. “I have nothing to say to him until he agrees to release us.”

  “Exactly.” Sister Fallyn gave a curt nod. “We must stand firm.”

  Jeffrey’s shoulders slumped. “All right. I’ll tell him.” He wandered from the room.

  With a groan, Brigitta trudged back to the table. She should have at least told Jeffrey to pass on their gratitude for the presents. “We might be hurting his feelings.”

  “He’s a pirate and a sorcerer,” Sister Fallyn mumbled. “Why should we care how he feels?”

  Why, indeed? Brigitta collapsed in a chair. She shouldn’t care. It would be foolish to care for her own kidnapper.

  Don’t leave me. The voice of a younger Rupert haunted her. All the terror, grief, and despair she’d felt from his memories had now become memories of her own.

  And somehow, he’d survived all that pain. He’d become a powerful man with an entire fleet at his disposal and the sheer force of the wind at his command. He’d become a man who rescued the innocent and protected his allies. He’d become a man of honor.

  Goddesses help her, she did care.

  * * *

  “Well?” Rupert asked while Jeffrey fidgeted at the door to his cabin. “Did they like the presents?”

  “I-I think so.”

  “And did Brigitta agree to dine with me?”

  Jeffrey hung his head and mumbled, “She said she has nothing to say to you until they’re released.”

  Rupert stiffened, stunned for a moment. Brigitta was refusing him? Why? Was she that angry that he’d foiled her escape? He’d only done it to keep her safe.

  He winced. Safe? He’d blown her into the water and nearly drowned her. And all because he felt an overwhelming need to protect her. Dammit. That vow he took as a child didn’t count anymore. There was no n
eed for him to care so much.

  But he did.

  He dragged a hand through his wet hair. What should he do now? After Brigitta had finished washing up in the privy, he’d taken a shower and put on fresh clothing. During it all, he’d wondered why she reacted so badly every time he touched her. And he’d considered the best way to tell her about the competition Gunther was planning.

  But now she was refusing to see him. Didn’t she care about her own future?

  “Wait a minute,” he told Jeffrey, then strode toward his worktable. He shuffled through drawings of future inventions till he found a blank sheet of paper. After dipping a quill into an inkwell, he wrote: It is imperative that we talk. I thought you wanted to be in control of your own destiny. What happened to that?

  He waved the paper in the air while he strode back to the door. With the ink dry, he folded it. “Deliver this to her right away.”

  “Yes, Admiral.” Jeffrey scampered down the passageway, knocked on their door, then slipped inside.

  Rupert paced barefoot about his cabin. She would agree to see him now. She had to.

  His cabin was on the starboard end of the passageway, whereas Stefan’s room was on the portside. Their cabins occupied the back corners of the ship, with large windows overlooking the sea.

  During the day, a great deal of light shone in, so Rupert liked using the room as a workshop. The long table was covered with drawings, metal parts, and tools. The large bed was mostly ignored, for he preferred to sleep under the stars. After seven years of living in caves and basements, he couldn’t bear the feeling of being cooped up.

  A knock sounded at the open doorway and he whirled about. But it wasn’t Jeffrey with a response.

  Stefan was standing there, holding his boots, hat, and mask. “You left these behind.”

  “Thanks.” Rupert tossed the boots onto the floor.

  Stefan handed him the hat and mask. “I think you should continue with the disguise.”

  “She’s seen my face.”

  “Lady Brigitta has, but Mistress Fallyn probably didn’t get a good look at you. And neither of them has seen the color of your hair. Besides, there are too many new crew members on the other ships. They might spot you through a spyglass. We can’t trust them yet, so you should still be careful.”