LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

a second thought he tossed her over his shoulder. Her bound fists thumped against his back causing him to smile.

      He’d misjudged her size. She was much smaller than he had first believed, even if she did have curves, but curves would not help his mother with household chores, and her small stature would not be valuable to tending the vineyards. He would think on what position she would take in his mother’s household as they traveled home. It was a shame he was not looking for a wife. He could imagine waking up to her beautiful, expressive eyes each morning. The warmth of her snuggled against him as he smoothed her hair behind the cup of her ear.

      “Come, Xandros. Let us go home. I have a sudden urgency to win the race.” For the first time in months, the burden of guilt began to lift from his shoulders and a smile formed. The air flowing to and from his lungs seemed freer. Perhaps, he could be redeemed. After all, if he could rescue one small maiden, perhaps there was hope to rescue more, including his own sister.

      “It’s good to see your competitiveness come back, Nicolaus. I had lost hope,” Xandros called from behind him.

      “As had I, Xandros, as had I.” He stepped over the rail and jumped down onto the deck before turning toward his friend. “That bit of haggling with the Philistine.” He puffed out his chest and smiled. A genuine smile, one that encompassed his entire being as freedom washed over him. Even the small fists—a swift reminder of purchasing a human, something he’d promised he’d never do—pounding against his back couldn’t penetrate the first bit of happiness he’d felt in months. “And a prime purchase will do that to a man.”

      The fists beating his back halted. The woman stilled. Nicolaus slackened his hold until her toes touched the planks. The top of her head did not even reach his shoulders. She titled her head back. Her mouth scrunched into a scowl. Her eyes narrowed. Had she understood him? Did this Philistine woman understand his language?

      “Do you speak Ionian?” he asked in his own language.

      A shadow flickered through her eyes as her brows pulled together.

      “Perhaps you paid too much for her,” Xandros spoke in her language.

      “Perhaps I did.”

      Before he realized what she was about, she swung her bound hands, clouting him against the jaw as she stomped her heel down on his foot. Nicolaus grabbed her hands before she could hit him again. Xandros doubled over in laughter. “I would have paid thrice the amount if I would have known she would clout you, my friend.”

      Ay, Nicolaus would have paid ten times. Mayhap even more. She had too much fire to be wasted on the likes of Ashkelon’s wickedness. A fire that seemed to banish all his horrid memories and dare him to breathe again.

      “The merchandise is all aboard and secured.” Brison, his youngest brother and the man—if one could call seventeen summers a man—he’d placed in charge of their merchandise stood eager to please.

      “All save one.” Nicolaus nodded toward the slave as he loosened his fingers around her upper arm. Her anger vibrated through his fingertips, softening his own anger at her poor treatment. What was it about this woman that threatened to banish months of guilt and anguish from his thoughts?

      Brison’s mouth fell open, gaping as if confused. Xandros stepped closer as if to protect the young woman from Nicolaus’s wrath, a wrath that was not geared toward her. But what shocked and filled Nicolaus with a sense of pride was the way his young brother straightened his shoulders as if to protect her, too. He glanced down at the little damsel. Her eyes glittered like the amber jewels he’d seen in Ashkelon’s temple honoring one of Greece’s goddesses, and he had the urge to see them spark even more. “Brison, do not place the woman below deck, place her in the captain’s chamber. I would like to keep an eye on my most prized purchase.”

      Did she flinch? He was certain she had. Brison most certainly did, and if he didn’t know better Xandros did, too. “Very well, Captain.” Nicolaus caught the twist of his younger brother’s mouth before he turned toward Xandros, who nodded his agreement. Brison took hold of the woman’s arm and led her away. She tried to jerk from his brother, but Brison held firm. Even in her anger her stature was full of grace, and the sway of her hips was gentle, like the smooth motion of his vessel on a calm sea. The sight eased his irritation over his crew’s obstinacy. What was wrong with his brother and friend? Was he such an incompetent commander that his brother must seek his second-in-command’s permission before seeing his orders carried out?

      “He thinks you’ve gone mad.” Xandros tugged on a rope leading up to the mast. “I’m inclined to agree. Prized merchandise?”

      A rumble of laughter bubbled from Nicolaus’s stomach and burst forth. He clapped Xandros on the back, his mind sobered as he grasped hold of his own words, words that the Sea Dragon would have spoken. “Perhaps I have, my friend. Perhaps, I have.”

      “Mayhap the men should seek the mercies of the sea god before we leave port.” The corner of Xandros’s mouth lifted. It was only a jest, but it bothered Nicolaus nonetheless. He’d long ago given up the idea of gods. Much to Uncle’s delight and his father’s grief. Where had the gods been when he was beaten day after day? Where were the gods when his sister was taken from his protection? Those so-called gods his friends and family called upon were nothing more than falsehoods conjured in the minds of idle men.

      “Tell them to be done with it.” Nicolaus focused on the western horizon. The clouds grew darker and heavy. He did not have time for a storm. Not when he actually cared to beat his brother this time around.

      All laughter left his friend’s face as his jaw fell open. “You can’t think to leave port with a storm coming toward us.”

      “I’ve not known you to shy away from a small storm, my friend. Besides, we’ve not the time to waste if we’re to beat my brother.”

      “You’ve drunk seawater to be mad as you are.”

      Nicolaus smacked his friend on the back. “Nay, I admit there’s a risk, but I have the best sailors on board my ship who do not wish to be swallowed by the sea. If you look—” Nicolaus pointed “—the clouds are moving from the southwest. If we hold course and follow the coast north and then west, we’ll get ahead of it and mayhap miss the squall altogether.”

      “It is a relief you don’t intend to sail straight across the sea.”

      One corner of Nicolaus’s mouth twitched. How would his friend feel when the skies cleared?

Chapter Two

      All reasoning had disappeared when the man had tossed her over his shoulder as if he were a barbarian and she nothing more than a sheep to slaughter. She had been fooled by his attire, richly dressed as he was, into believing he was kind, compassionate. She had hoped to convince him to return her to her father. Instead, he treated her no different than that Philistine when he had dragged her around by her hair.

      And now she was being led around a boat. She’d heard of such vessels moving on the Great Sea, but she’d never seen one. Tales told by her father when she was naught but a girl had filled her with excitement. She had longed to experience such adventures until she recalled with clarity how his boat had splintered against rocks leaving him near death.

      The crewman stopped beside a ladder and motioned for her to climb. She tilted her head back. It seemed as if the ladder led to a small room or a pyre. She’d heard the stories of these heathens, who even now lifted prayers to an unfamiliar god. She would not be their sacrifice, not to their god of the sea. As if one existed. Had they not heard of the one true God? The One who created the seas and all the beasts within.

      The boat rocked. Although she understood the motion of the water, she was not prepared for the way it unsteadied her, causing her to stumble toward the wooden rail. White waves crashed against the boat. She sucked in a breath as the sailor lashed his arm around her waist and pulled her back from the edge. Fear clawed at her stomach, making it angry with each movement of the vessel. Her mouth

Скачать книгу