Aboard the Lady May Ch. 02

Acting on impulse, Jamie leaned forward and gently kissed Luke on his cheek. Then she stepped back and shrugged, causing Felix's shirt to lose its precarious hold on her shoulders and fall to the floor at her feet. Luke smiled, understanding her act for the gesture of trust it was, and appreciating her recognition of his nature without his having to tell her.

"I can see why Felix likes you," Luke said, and his wide smile dispelled some of the sadness in his eyes.

"Why is that?" Jamie returned, hoping to prolong his lighthearted moment.

"You've got great tits."

He said this straight faced, and Jamie fell to the floor laughing. Stronger now, with food in her stomach, she was unable to stop for a long time, and Luke finally quieted her by the effective means of grasping the back of her neck and plunging her head into the bucket of water. It was, to Jamie's surprise, fresh and not salt, so that when she came up for air, coughing and sputtering, she was at least not obliged to pummel Luke for stinging her eyes with seawater.

"Behave yourself now," Luke instructed, lathering soap between his palms.

"Me?" Jamie demanded. "You're the one who—" Then she trailed off, her words ending on a long groan of pleasure, unable to maintain her indignance when Luke's strong fingers began massaging the soap into her scalp.

Long after it was necessary but before she was ready for him to stop, Luke warned her to hold her breath, then dunked her head twice more in the water. He deftly squeezed the excess from the short strands, then used her woolen blanket to absorb the worst of the wetness. Next he helped her stand and began to wash the rest of her body with the softest cloth Jamie had ever felt. She wondered where it came from and whether there were any more she might use for her monthlies, irregular as they were owing to her unnatural thinness. Before she could ask, however, Luke began to gently wash her breasts, distracting Jamie and causing her to draw in a sharp, hissing breath between her teeth.

"Sorry," Luke murmured but did not allow his compassion to dissuade him from thoroughness. He washed each abrasion and blister, sponged her dirt-encrusted scabs until the muck loosened and pulled free, then withdrew a small salve pot from the deep pocket in his canvas pants. "This will sting," Luke warned as he removed the lid and an acrid scent filled the air.

"What is that?" Jamie asked, wincing from the first application of the liniment on a newly reopened sore.

"You don't want to know," Luke returned. "It's Felix's receipt, though. Very effective."

Jamie nodded, comforted slightly by the thought that Felix was at least indirectly responsible for the care she was receiving. She was surprised then by the sudden realization that, as much as she enjoyed Luke's gentle, nonthreatening caresses, they paled in comparison to the heated feel of Felix's hands on her body. She remembered the night before, the way she had arched and gasped in his arms, begging him to touch her until she was beyond reason with the burning need of it. She was still slightly confused by her memory of the moment when his fingers had moved inside her and her entire body had seemed to erupt, but she was eager to experience it again—to see if the sensations could be recreated, or if they were an aberration resulting from her blind desire to feel irrevocably bound to another human being, if only for an instant.

Jamie was so distracted by these thoughts, she did not notice that Luke had moved and was kneeling behind her until she felt his warm fingers tenderly separating her buttocks. She flinched and stepped forward, but was drawn back by Luke's strong grip on her hips.

"Hold still, Jamie," he said, his voice soft but implacable. "Let me take care of you."

All thoughts of Felix and of pleasure vanished from her mind. Jamie could think of nothing then but the hard hands that had bruised her flesh, mindful to only their own pleasure; the damp press of a man's hair-roughened stomach against her back; his fetid breath on her neck and the brutal thrust of his shaft into her unprepared anus. She began to cry softly, feeling Luke part her again, knowing he would find the fresh tears and bruises as well as the dried blood and semen Felix had not thought to check for and that she had not yet had time to wash away.

"I thought so," Luke growled behind her, his voice hard for the first time since she'd met him. "Felix didn't say anything, but I thought so."

"He doesn't know." Jamie cried harder as Luke washed her with the soft cloth, her embarrassment too much to be contained. She had wept more in the past twenty-four hours than in the previous six years of her life combined. "He knows, I mean, that it's happened"—she groped for the proper way to explain—"just not...so recently."

"When did this happen?" Luke asked.

The cloth was gone then, and his finger was on her torn flesh, rubbing in the burning liniment. Jamie gasped in pain and tried to move away, but she was prevented from stepping forward by Luke's arm wrapped firmly around her stomach and his grip on her opposite hip.

"Yesterday morning," she admitted, whimpering as she felt his finger moving inside her. He was helping her, Jamie knew, but it hurt, and she was trying very hard to not become angry with him.

It was at that moment that Felix chose to reappear. Jamie looked up at the sound of the opening door, then sobbed and bowed her head, beyond humiliated that he had returned to find her like this. Felix took in the scene in a glance: Jamie weeping and devastated, her body naked and clean but for his green salve on her breasts, and Luke kneeling behind her, holding her still while obviously administering to her damaged rectum. Not wanting to embarrass her further but needing to know what Luke had found, Felix began speaking to his charge in Greek. He would be able to tell very soon, he knew, whether Jamie understood the language or not.

"How bad?" Felix asked. Jamie showed no reaction, and he sighed with relief.

Luke shrugged, trying his best to be gentle as he withdrew his finger from Jamie's body. Still, she cried out, and from the look on his face, Luke knew Felix felt her pain even more acutely than he did himself. Unable to look at either man and unbearably conscious of her nakedness, Jamie bent to retrieve the wool blanket and wrapped it quickly around herself.

"Nothing you haven't seen before," Luke said, watching Jamie's movements from the corner of his eye. "It is recent, though."

"How recent?" Felix demanded.

"Yesterday morning, she said."

Felix had to turn away then, afraid that Jamie would become frightened of him if she could see the look on his face. He took several deep breaths before he heard the sound of approaching footsteps, then felt Luke's slim hand on his shoulder.

"She does not need your anger, my friend," Luke said softly.

Felix knew he was right but could not keep himself from snapping back, "How do you feel when you think of Peter being used against his will?"

Felix felt guilt when the hand on his shoulder flinched, but it was a valid question.

"I suspect, the same way you feel right now," Luke admitted. "But it is better for you, Felix," he continued sadly. "She at least wants your comfort."

Felix knew this was the truth, and he felt sorrow for his friend but could do nothing to remedy the situation. Peter did love Luke as well as he was able, Felix knew, but it was simply not in Peter's nature to fall in love with another man. Felix allowed himself to think for an instant how he would feel if Jamie had been irreparably damaged by her experiences and had decided to turn away from men altogether. The brief stab of pain he felt must, Felix thought, be akin to the anguish Luke lived with everyday.

"Will you please bring more water, Luke?" Felix asked then, reverting to English. He did not want to exclude Jamie any more than was necessary to spare her embarrassment. "I'm covered in blood," he explained.

Seeming to notice for the first time that the fabric beneath his hand was indeed stiff and black, caked with dried blood, Luke gingerly withdrew his touch from Felix's shoulder. The new shirt Felix had procured after giving Jamie his usual one was destroyed. When Felix gave it to him, Luke decided, he would burn it. There would be no cleaning it, and using it for shark bait seemed sickeningly disrespectful.

"Of course," Luke said, taking a step toward the door. Then, not really wanting to know the answer but unable to keep himself from asking, he whispered, "Thaniel?"

Felix looked up to meet Luke's eyes, then sadly shook his head. It was all the answer Luke needed. He had been there for the initial surgery; he had no desire to know how the man had died as well. He returned Felix's look for a long moment, then moved again toward the door.

"Luke," Jamie called suddenly, arresting his progress.

He turned back, looked at her expectantly.

Jamie wanted to go to him but couldn't bring herself to move so close to the door. She settled for smiling at him instead. "I wanted to thank you," she said, brushing the last of her tears from her cheeks. "You've been very kind."

He returned her smile, but the sorrow was back in his eyes. "It was my pleasure," he told her, nodded once, and then he was gone.

Jamie stared at the closed door long after Luke had left. She was unsure suddenly how to act around Felix. Thoughts of him had occupied her endlessly throughout the day—his kindness, the promise of his protection, the way he touched her, how he made her glad for the first time in a very long while that she was a woman. Yet she had spent only a handful of hours in his presence and, in fact, she knew very little about him.

Able to think of nothing else to say, she nodded toward the door after Luke. "He's very sad, isn't he?" she asked, then finally forced herself to face Felix. He was watching her silently. "Does he love Peter?"

Felix looked surprised for an instant, then he nodded slowly. "He does," he said, and began walking toward Jamie. He half expected her to run but was pleasantly surprised instead when she took two steps forward, meeting him halfway. Raising his hands, he cupped her face between them. His thumbs brushed her still-wet cheeks and, bending quickly, he pressed a brief kiss to her brow. "You're quite clever," he said, admiring the blush that filled her pale face at his praise. Then he added, "But you've had to be clever, haven't you?"

Her face, still held in his hands, began to crumple. Fresh tears filled her eyes—eyes that Felix suddenly realized he was seeing in daylight for the first time. He'd thought them black by moonlight, but with the rays of the fading sun seeping through the open porthole, he realized they were in fact a very dark shade of blue. Like India ink, Felix thought, or undiluted indigo. Slightly lighter at the center of the iris, and fading to navy near the rims. Felix only wished they were dry and alight with laughter, rather than threatening once more to overflow with misery.

"Hey, girl," he said, jostling her face lightly between his hands. "Haven't we had enough of that now? You're like to shrivel and dry up to nothing."

She laughed, as Felix had meant her to, but there was no joy in the sound. Her embarrassment from Luke's treatment was still too fresh, and even though she hadn't understood the language he and Felix spoke, she knew very well what words had passed between them.

Determined not to weep anymore, she sniffed, blinked rapidly. "Luke told you, didn't he?" She knew there was no need to elaborate.

"He did," Felix admitted, understanding instantly what she meant. "But why didn't you tell me?"

Jamie's shoulders hunched, her whole body seeming to shrink inside her blanket. "You'd not have touched me," she said.

Felix shook her face, a little roughly this time. "That's not true, Jamie." He was unable to keep his voice totally devoid of anger. "There's nothing you could tell me that would make me not want to touch you. But I might have made you more comfortable—"

"No!" she interrupted, shaking her head so forcefully she broke free from his hands. "It was bad enough with Luke. I couldn't bear for you to—"

"Jamie," he interrupted in turn, moving his hold to her shoulders. He understood she was embarrassed, but she wasn't being reasonable. "Who do you think takes care of Luke and Peter?"

Her mouth worked silently for several seconds. "Oh," she finally managed, stuttering, "But I thought...I assumed they—with each other?"

"Sometimes they do," Felix said, stroking up and down her arms through the rough wool. "But their watches don't always match up. They're the drudges on board, and they're kept busy by the men besides. They tend to sleep when they can. I'm ship's carpenter. My duties aren't so fixed as theirs, and no one flogs me for not jumping with the bells."

Jamie nodded. She knew these things. She'd been aboard ships for nearly half her life. Felix called her clever, but if she'd behaved for the past six years the way she had since she'd come on board the Lady May—crying at the drop of a hat, drawing attention to herself, asking foolish questions instead of working things out on her own—she'd not have lived to see sixteen. Her only excuse was that the feeling of safety Felix and the boys provided relaxed her past the point of prudence. She would have to be careful to not become careless.

"I'm sorry—" she began, but was stopped by the press of Felix's mouth on her own.

"There's been enough of that, as well," he said when he'd pulled back. "You're not to apologize for anything ever again. You hear me, girl?"

She nodded, said without thinking, "I'm s—"

Then Felix's lips were on hers again, and the giggle he sucked from her tongue was a genuine, happy sound. His whiskers had grown during the day, Jamie noticed, but she didn't mind. She enjoyed the contrasting textures of his lightly wind-chapped lips, his beard roughened cheeks, and the slick thrust of his tongue until they were drawn apart by a soft knock on the door.

"Luke," Felix whispered an inch from her lips. "I'll just talk to him for a moment. He'll not want to stay. He has sad moods, likes to be by himself at times."

"That's a trick aboard ship," Jamie grumbled. She'd spent years pining for a few moments' privacy, which she'd been generally unable to attain.

Felix laughed lightly, kissed her pouting mouth, then moved toward the door. He opened it only far enough for Luke to pass through a fresh bucket of water. Several cloths followed, a small cake of soap, two mugs, wooden trenchers, a loaf of brown bread. Jamie wondered briefly if Luke had ever served in a tavern, as he seemed to have an uncanny knack for carrying a multitude of objects at once.

Felix deposited Luke's offerings behind him on the floor, then turned back to speak to the boy. His voice was too low to carry, so Jamie took the opportunity to really study Felix for the first time. The night before his face had been cast in shadows; she'd had only a vague impression of height and breadth. And since he'd reentered the hold she'd been either too embarrassed to look at him or too busy kissing him.

He was big; she'd been right about that. His head just barely cleared the doorframe, and she judged his shoulders to be nearly three times as wide as her own. His nose in profile was high bridged with a bump, Jamie thought, that was the likely result of an unset break. She'd have to ask who slugged him—and whether or not he'd deserved it. Both his brows and whiskers were a medium brown, but his hair, sun scorched as it was, showed varying shades of copper and dark gold. Studying the thickness of the queue at his nape, Jamie was struck with jealousy that his hair was much prettier than her own. Grabbing one of her severed tresses, she pulled it to her nose and sniffed. It was clean at least, red again and not gummy with grease. She had Luke to thank for that.

Felix nodded once at Luke, then stepped back from the door. Turning toward Jamie, he couldn't help but smile to find her cross-eyed, scowling at a chopped-off stand of her hair.

"It'll grow," he said, picturing her for an instant with a waist-length skein of hair, falling like fiery silk down her back, long enough to get lost in. He nearly groaned at the idea.

Jamie released her hair, shoved it back from her face. She looked up at Felix and all but swallowed her tongue. Good Lord, she thought, The man has dimples.

Forcing an unconcerned shrug, she said, "I'll just have to cut it again. I look like a girl when my hair's long."

Felix's smiled widened at the obviousness of the statement. "You could braid it," he suggested. "Shove it up under a cap."

Jamie sighed. "Then a strong wind comes up, snatches it off my head, and the next thing you know I'm being passed around like a camp follower, only without the pay."

Felix scowled, his dimples disappearing. "You'll keep it short," he ordered.

Jamie nodded, quick to agree in the face of Felix's anger. "I'll keep it short," she echoed. She took a cautious step forward and reached out from beneath her blanket to touch his hand. He grabbed it quickly and threaded her fingers through his own. "I didn't mean to upset you," she whispered. "I'm sorr—" Then his grip tightened, one eyebrow raised, and Jamie stopped talking.

He tugged her hand, raised it to his lips. "I'm not upset," he said, but they both knew it was a lie. Neither of them, however, wanted to address the issue just then.

Changing the subject, he said, "I'm filthy, but so hungry I'm like to die." After a moment's hesitation he gently removed his hand from her grasp. "A compromise, I think." Then, raising his arms over his head, he quickly stripped his shirt and threw it into the darkest corner of the hold. He said, "I can't stand to wear that a second longer."

Jamie was suddenly speechless. She had grown up surrounded by shirtless sailors. Neither half- nor wholly-naked men were anything new to her. Felix, however, was different. In addition to being so firmly muscled her fingers itched to see if they could find any skin at all to pinch, he was covered with the most beautiful tattoos Jamie had ever seen. She'd noted before that he was inked but in the predawn darkness had been unable to make out the shapes.

"Oh!" Jamie gasped, "They're lovely."

And then her hands were on him. Mermaids in varying shades of blue and green and black covered his chest, torso, and shoulders. They were nothing like the wicked creatures portrayed in myths, but rather had gracefully serpentine bodies and faces so serene they made Jamie think of the Madonna. Her fingers traced the sinuous fins, touched their flowing hair, the occasional bared breast. Circling Felix, she tried to keep count but lost track at fifteen.

"Who are they?" she breathed, unable to stop touching him. "How many do you have?"

Felix laughed at her obvious fascination. "Nineteen," he said, "and they're my family."

Jamie's hands froze at that. "All these women are in your family?"

He nodded. "Aunts, cousins, sisters." He turned and, reaching, tapped a slightly wizened face on his shoulder. "My grandmother."

"Your mother?" Jamie asked, her fingers still moving wonderingly over him.

He turned again and tenderly touched a figure on the left side of his chest.

"She's beautiful," Jamie said, feeling somehow unworthy to touch the lovely creature.

"Yes," Felix agreed, "she was."

"Was?"

"She died," Felix said, brisk now, dismissal obvious in his tone.

He bent abruptly, retrieved Jamie's blanket, and hurriedly rewrapped her body. She hadn't even noticed she'd dropped it.

"Thank you," she said quietly, wondering why she seemed to keep upsetting him.

Felix's fingers beneath her chin forced her face up to his.