“This tale is about Andromeda. She was rumored as a beautiful princess—as such stories often say—but her parents, Queen Cassiopeia and King Cepheus of Ethiopia, were quite horrid.”
“Why?”
“No one has ever said, so that might have been added to the tale for local color.” Brand chuckled. “You know how the ancients were.”
“Perhaps.”
He glanced into the heavens again, located the northern section where the constellation in question rested and pointed. “Despite Andromeda’s looks, her mother was also famed for her beauty. However, the queen adored talking about it. As the legend goes, one day the queen bragged about herself before quite a large company. She claimed she was more lovely and striking than all the Nereids—sea nymphs.”
“That can’t be good.” Elizabeth’s eyes were wide as she looked between the sky and his face.
“Of course it wasn’t.” Brand chuckled, for being with her was so easy, and he truly enjoyed sharing his knowledge. “Suffice it to say, Poseidon—the god of the sea—was deeply offended by this blasphemy. He was obligated to retaliate; else he’d lose face. So, Poseidon sent the sea waters to flood the king and queen’s land. Not nearly satisfied, he also sent the great sea monster Cetus to gobble them all up.”
“A fitting punishment for vain humans?” Elizabeth snickered. “As if the gods were blameless in all these stories.”
“Precisely. Oh, but the story grows worse.” Brand stroked his fingers up and down her ribcage. “Like any self-worried and superstitious parents would do, the king and queen decided to sacrifice Andromeda to Cetus in the hopes this would quench the monster’s thirst for blood and halt the flood waters. Despite her protests, they chained her to a bunch of rocks and ran away like cowards.”
“That’s horrible. To think a set of parents would love a god more than their own child…” Her swallow was audible. “Yet, that is exactly the mindset of too many elders in the church, and William especially.” A shiver went through her body and transferred to him. “I couldn’t imagine abandoning my child, or even putting them into harm’s way, even if God commanded it.”
“Thankfully, we are a more intelligent set of humans these days.” He hoped, for he’d certainly not used much of that when entering into that damned wager. “As luck would have it, Perseus—the grand hero, of course—had only just finished slaying Medusa.”
“Ooh, the woman with snakes for her hair that turned people to stone, right?”
“Correct.” For a few seconds Brand lost himself in nuzzling the soft, faintly perfumed skin of her neck where it met her shoulder. Then he continued his story. “The legend says he was on his way home with the intention of killing his enemies with the severed head of Medusa. Much like slaying two birds with one stone.”
She giggled then groaned and playfully swatted at his shoulder. “That was a bad joke.”
“Indeed.” Oh, how easy and wonderful it was to talk with her! “On his travels home, Perseus spied the princess Andromeda chained to a pillar on sacred ground. Quickly, he released her, but Cetus was approaching.”
“Did he fall in love with her at first sight?” The question was couched in a dreamy, sing-song voice that had the power to sweep Brand away on images of his own.
“No doubt he did, for how could he not? Perseus unveiled Medusa’s head from the bag he carried it in. The sea monster turned to stone, fell over at the edge of the sea, thereby sparing the land of his foul presence.”
“I wonder if it was truly that easy for him.” When Elizabeth laid a hand on his chest, Brand nearly jumped out of his skin from the contact. “I adore it when the hero is made to overcome a large obstacle to win the hand of his lady.”
“Yes, well, the details are scandalously absent from tales of this nature.” He brushed his lips over hers for the mere fact that he could. “Eventually, once the king and queen realized the danger had passed—
“—and were properly compelled to ask their daughter’s forgiveness, I hope,” she interrupted with a fair amount of spirit in her voice.
“—Andromeda and Perseus married. No doubt they were quite happy and devoted to each other.” He stared at the constellations. “As a reward, Andromeda was placed in the sky next to Perseus when she died, along with her parents and the sea monster Cetus. I suppose the gods didn’t want anyone to forget the story. To this day, the constellation Andromeda shares a star with Pegasus.”
“What a wonderful tale. Thank you for sharing it with me.” She combed her fingers through the hair on his chest, and with every pass of her fingers, tiny fires erupted in his blood. “It’s comforting to know their story has been immortalized in the stars.”
For long moments, they lay there watching the heavens.
Eventually, Elizabeth sighed, and that tiny sound of contentment lodged into his heart. “What do you want for your life, Brand? If you don’t choose to reside in London, where will you go?”
“I’m not certain. Perhaps I won’t leave Ipswich.” He held her more comfortably in his arms and reveled in her warmth, in how easily they fit together. God, he could become all too used to this. When once he’d rather die than spend post-intercourse time with a woman, now he found he rather adored the intimacy, the… bonding. “To be honest, if I had my druthers, I’d sail wherever I could, anywhere in the world. Yet, that requires coin and a bigger ship than the Charlotte.”
Those words brought reality crashing through the blissful haze of peace that had wrapped around them. Now that he’d bedded her, the wager was nearly completed.
The warmth of her breath skated over his neck and upper portion of his chest. “What of a wife or children? You’d previously stated you didn’t wish to marry, but what if you change your mind?” A hint of hesitancy had entered her voice. “It’s quite possible, you know.”
An image of Elizabeth swam into his mind, her belly swollen with child while he held a toddler in his arms. The boy’s hair was brown and wavy like hers, his eyes a stormy bluish gray. Brand’s heart trembled. A thrill of anticipation went down his spine. For the first time in his life, he lusted after the security and contentment the image represented. A tiny grin curved his lips, but then another thought occurred that knocked the image astray.
Once Elizabeth discovered the wager and the details therein, she’d cut him from her life with alacrity. Any woman of substance would. How could she not? What he’d done, with malice aforethought, was callous and selfish and horrid. He’d manipulated her emotions, did it still, but he sorely wanted that schooner, needed it to launch a business that might make a proper gentleman of him.
No matter his intentions, hot guilt twisted in his belly. The pain of it caught his breath. “I don’t know if a life of domestication is possible for me.” Because he didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve the love that should come along with such a scenario.