Part 29 (1/2)
”Don't care.” He kicked open the door to his cabin, set her on the bunk, and immediately took a wad of muslin and dabbed it on her wound. He didn't trust himself to speak. Cupping her arm in his hand, pressing the muslin there to staunch the bleeding, he felt the slimness of her, but also her toughness. Once satisfied that the flow of her blood slowed, he took fresh strips of muslin and wrapped them around the wound, as careful as if binding a bird's wing.
”What happened to your hands?” London asked.
He glanced down to see the red, angry indentations his fingers had left in his palms. ”I didn't like that.”
A small smile tilted her mouth. ”I didn't, either. But it's done now.” Her smile faded, leaving behind quiet determination and acceptance. ”The link has been severed.”
Bennett tipped her chin up. His eyes were brilliant gems, s.h.i.+fting from aquamarine to darkest sapphire, as he took her in, caressing her face with his gaze. The clean angles of his jaw, brow, and nose, the sensuous perfection of his mouth, now uncharacteristically serious. Lord, he was a beautiful man. All the more so because he was bruised and b.l.o.o.d.y, a warrior as much as a scoundrel.
She had seen him climb and fight and defend her, almost to the death. He flew, literally flew. And now he looked at her with such heat and soul, she felt the last slivers of ice around her heart turn to mist.
”I love you,” he said, solemn.
She was so battered inside, she couldn't hide her wince. She hadn't the strength right now to protect her heart. ”I know.”
He shook his head, looking fierce and intent. ”I love you.” ”I love you.”
”I know,” she repeated. ”You've said so.” She might truly cry now, to think of what she felt for him, how it could not be reciprocated. Must she eventually lose everything?
Bennett squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as if frustrated. ”d.a.m.n, this is what I get for talking too much.” He opened his eyes. ”Monkeys in hats,” he said.
She blinked at him, uncomprehending. ”Did you hit your head?”
”Monkeys in hats,” he said again, with growing heat. ”That's what I mean when I say, 'I love you.' I mean that you're the woman I need beside me, all day, every day. I mean that I can't imagine my life without you. I mean that when you hurt, it feels like a knife in me, cutting me from the inside out.” He paced in the tiny cabin, ricocheting back and forth like a bullet. ”I mean that I hate the idea of anyone but me touching you. Just the thought makes me want to kill. I mean that I hate the idea of me touching anyone but you. I mean that when I see a G.o.dd.a.m.n monkey wearing a G.o.dd.a.m.n hat, I want to tell you you about it. about it. You You and no one else.” and no one else.”
She remembered what she had said to him the first night they had made love. Her palms grew damp, her mouth dry, the pain of her cut arm forgotten.
”You mean,” she breathed, ”you're in love in love with me?” with me?”
”I don't care what words anyone uses,” he growled, stopping his pacing to stand in front of her. ”Use the words of all the languages you know. Or make some up. Doesn't matter. What matters is that I want to be with you forever. Only you. And I hope to G.o.d,” he said, his voice rough as he stroked her hair, her face, ”that you only want me.” There was no glib charm now, only the raw truth of his heart, laid bare before her.
He was was shaking. She felt that as he touched her. And she trembled, too. Surely he felt that. shaking. She felt that as he touched her. And she trembled, too. Surely he felt that.
She was long past being safe or smart or protective, yet she felt compelled to ask, ”Are you certain? You might grow tired of me, you know, long before forever comes.”
”I've lived with myself for thirty-two years,” he rumbled. ”I know what the h.e.l.l I'm talking about. I love you I love you, d.a.m.n it.”
He was breathing hard now, his cheeks flushed, jaw tight. She'd never seen him so impa.s.sioned, so serious. He was still a scoundrel, but he was so much more, now.
When she at last found her voice, she said, ”I monkeys in hats you, too.”
Chapter 17.
The Daughters of the Sea At the very least, the stars should s.h.i.+ft in the sky, the poles reverse or maybe something as minor as tigers learning to fly. Bennett, who had never once believed himself capable of giving his heart and body utterly and without regret to one woman, truly thought any of these miracles should have transpired the minute he confessed his love to London. Perhaps a second sun should burst to life in the sky when London, incredibly, admitted her own love for him.
Or, if none of those natural phenomena were to happen, then time itself should stop, completely suspended, leaving Bennett and London to spend days, weeks, months, and years exploring each other, discovering everything about each other, bodies and minds. Nothing else but that, an enchanted bubble surrounding them.
But the world, he learned, didn't stop because his life had been completely and wonderfully upended. He loved London, she loved him, and the d.a.m.ned Heirs were still out there. Those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds' greedy claws sought dangerous magic. They would rip down or kill anyone who stood in their way. Not only that, but while Joseph Edgeworth was still alive, London's own life was in danger.
No rest, then. No enchanted bubble of lovemaking and revelations. Not yet.
There would be, by G.o.d. As Bennett and London gathered with Kallas and Athena on deck, Bennett swore to himself that he'd see this mission through to the end. He would ensure London's safety, carve a secret place out of glaciers or granite mountains for himself and her. He always took his duty to the Blades seriously. Now, his motivations were multiplied a hundredfold. Find the Source. Protect London. Love her. These demands were branded onto his heart, now and forevermore.
Late afternoon and the sky was aflame with blue, the sea burnished copper. The quartet of colleagues and friends ma.s.sed around the wheel. Bennett had always liked being at sail, but now this caique had become a home to him, the people on it bound together with their own kins.h.i.+p. The Heirs wouldn't harm them. He refused to let that happen. The alternative-no, he wouldn't even consider it.
”We've got to find the Black Temple the Colossus spoke about,” he said.
”But not even the Colossus knew where to find it,” London noted, standing beside him. She was unaware that she played with his fingers, unconsciously stroking and fondling each with her own slender fingers, and consequently, a goodly portion of Bennett's thinking capacity settled warmly in his groin. But her touch felt too d.a.m.ned good to make her stop.
”If there ever was a written record of such a place,” said Athena, ”it is either lost or buried beneath centuries.”
”Sailor lore holds nothing,” muttered Kallas. ”And I've heard everything. It could take a lifetime to find the d.a.m.n place.”
Bennett growled. ”We don't have a lifetime.” Even with the Bloodseeker Spell broken, the Heirs would find some way to track them. The faster the Eye of the Colossus was found and secured, the better for everyone.
London frowned in thought. ”If not a sailor, who then knows the sea?”
”Someone who makes it their home,” Athena answered.
”Fish,” Bennett said, only half in jest.
Grinning with sudden understanding, Kallas whipped off his cap and slapped it on his thigh. ”Yes.”
Athena raised her brow. ”You cannot mean to ask the fish about the Black Temple.”
”Fish?” Kallas scoffed. ”No, that'd be ridiculous-no offense, Day,” he added.
Bennett shrugged, affable. ”No man has ever called me ridiculous. Son of a b.i.t.c.h, sometimes. b.a.s.t.a.r.d, usually. But not ridiculous.”
London b.u.mped her shoulder against his arm. ”And what do women call you?”
”I can't remember anyone before you.”
The witch hadn't the patience to listen to Bennett and London's affectionate banter, perhaps because she always argued with the object of her own grudging interest. ”Not the fish,” she muttered. ”Who, then?”
”You're a mainlander,” Kallas said, smiling with white, straight teeth around the stem of his pipe. ”But now it's time for you to learn respect for the sea.”
The sails were lowered as the captain gathered an a.s.semblage of things from the quarterdeck house and cargo hold. A bottle of wine. A jar of honey. Another jar, this one filled with olives.
”All gifts from the earth,” Kallas said, setting them by the rail. ”They want these delicacies, having nothing like them of their own.”
”Who is 'they'?” Athena demanded.