“Would you like wine, Andromeda? May I serve you?”
I nod slightly in response and within a few moments my glass and plate are full and he is eating his meal with finer manners than I anticipated. I don’t know why I expected him to be unrefined; his grooming and fastidious dress should have been more of an indication of his manners. After the rumors that followed him through the Houses, I half expected him to rip my clothing from me and take me like an animal the moment I stepped through the door. Instead, it feels like I am the uncivilized beast accompanying a gentleman for a meal.
I delicately sip my wine and start in on the food, barely containing a moan at the taste. Such a simple meal takes no elaborate skill, but I am so hungry that I devour the entire serving. His eyes remain on me as I eat, but I refuse to look up.
Once I finish, I dab my lips with the linen napkin and sip my wine again, casting my eyes around the room. They linger on his sleeping area, noting a wardrobe that I can only assume holds his fine clothing, and a trunk at the foot of the bed. A small table with an oil lamp stands next to the bed with more books stacked on its surface.
As my eyes drift around the room I see a cat-of-nine-tails hanging from a nail on the wall near the door. My heart skips at the sight — I don’t know whether it is something he plans to use on me or if it is used for doling out punishment to his crew.
Finally, I allow myself a glance at the Captain who has a look of amusement dancing across his face, clearly tracking my eyes in their examination. His dark hair is messy from where I assume he has run his fingers through it, even if I have never actually seen him make the nervous gesture. It’s the only part of him that is rumpled. He leans back in his chair, holding his goblet leisurely, and smiles when my eyes meet his, hooded and unreadable.
“So…” The word does nothing to cut through the tension that surrounds us.
“So…” he replies, eyes glittering in the candlelight.
“Perhaps you can tell me your… expectations?” I venture, hoping my emotions are not written across my face. I cannot seem to rein them in in his presence as easily as I am used to, and I have to strive to maintain a blank expression.
“Tonight, I’d like to talk, Andromeda. No expectations.”
I take another drink of my wine to hide my shock, toying with the silver adornment on the stem of the glass. This is definitely not what I anticipated when I entered the great cabin this evening.
“All right. What would you like to talk about?” I ask, boldly meeting his gaze.
“I understand you were a priestess of the Goddess.”
I bark a harsh laugh. “Judging from the items in my trunk, I think you know that to be true. Where did you get the robe?”
“I have many connections, as you will learn.” His answer is vague and evasive, but he continues, “How long were you at your temple?”
“From the time I was fourteen until the King’s men arrived at our gates.” I finish my goblet of wine and hold it out for another, pursing my lips. My eyes remain focused on the glass to keep the sadness of the memory hidden.
“And do you have healing gifts, or only the other skills the priestesses are renowned for?”
I look up at his face expecting derision, but find only curiosity. He refills my goblet and I drink deeply before responding.
“I have many gifts, Captain,” I retort, earning a chuckle. “But yes, I know herblore and some healing. I’m not a physician by any means, but I can ease discomfort and prevent infections.”
“Did you participate in the rites?”
“I did. When I was sixteen I chose to dedicate myself fully, and gave myself in the rites.”
“I see. And when was that?” he studies my face as he asks casually.
“A lifetime ago,” I whisper, looking into my glass. “You seem very interested in my skills and my past, Captain Lennox. What do you know of the Goddess and her priestesses?”
“My mother was a believer; I know more than you’d think,” he answers curtly, his smile faltering. I’m surprised, but the robe in my trunk has told me as much and the figurehead of his ship should have solidified my suspicions.
“Why am I here?” I ask directly. If he can ask me so many questions he can damn well answer some of mine.
“Because I wanted you to be, my pretty priestess.” His words are a caress as he pours himself another glass of wine. “I saw you at the House of Starlight and knew I had to have you. It just took time to negotiate with Celeste.” Finally, the man I anticipated shows himself, and I find myself almost relieved to be back on even footing after so many of his disarming comments. “Why?” I press.
“Because the sight of you pleases me. Tell me,” he pauses, eyes raking over me as he leans forward over the table. “The last time I saw you in that color, you weren’t wearing anything underneath your skirt. Are you tonight?” He smiles wickedly and takes another sip as he raises a brow.
The memory of his inspection in Celeste’s office, of him flipping up my skirt to admire his purchase, grates on me. My pulse quickens and I swallow my irritation, but don’t answer his question.
At my silence he continues, “Celeste told me you’re a challenging one.” He smiles again, further instigating my ire.
“I don’t want to disappoint. It would be terrible if I was falsely advertised,” I try to say sweetly, but sarcasm laces my tone as I speak through my teeth. “I thought we were talking tonight, Captain. If you’d prefer, you can tell me what you’d like me to do, and I can take care of it for you.”