So I Married a Sorcerer (The Embraced #2)

So they didn’t think she could be trusted. Why? Because Gunther was her brother? How could she have any loyalty to a family member who had ignored her existence until he needed to use her? Brigitta shot Rupert an annoyed look, then turned her back to him and took the paddle from Sister Fallyn. “Let me do it awhile.” She gave the clothes a stab.

The nun frowned at the large tub. “This is a lot of work for only a few clothes. Perhaps I should see if … someone else has some laundry they would like done?” She glanced again toward the quarterdeck.

“Ye mean Stefan?” Brigitta whispered. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

Sister Fallyn took a tiny step toward the quarterdeck, then stopped. “Nay. It wouldn’t be proper to mix a man’s clothes with ours.”

“I don’t think he would mind.”

Sister Fallyn bit her lip. “He might think I’m terribly forward—”

“There’s no harm in simply talking to him.”

Sister Fallyn nodded. “Actually, I should thank him for rescuing us from the clutches of yer evil brother. That would only be well mannered of me.”

“Exactly.” Even though Brigitta considered Rupert the main rescuer. She smiled to herself as Sister Fallyn cautiously approached the quarterdeck.

Normally, she would never approve of a relationship between a man and a nun, but Sister Fallyn’s life was no longer normal. She and Brigitta could end up stranded on Rupert’s Island for years.

Once again, a jab of disappointment pricked at her. No matter how she thought about it, running away to hide seemed a bit cowardly. But what choice did she have when her brother was planning to use her so abominably? Or when he could use his army or navy to attack those she cared about.

She also felt guilty that Sister Fallyn would be forced to share her self-imposed exile. But if the sister was able to find some happiness in the midst of this turmoil, then Brigitta would be delighted for her. And relieved that she wasn’t destroying the nun’s life.

She glanced toward the quarterdeck. The captain and Sister Fallyn were talking to each other quietly. He looked just as nervous as she did. With a smile, Brigitta swirled the paddle around.

“Happy?” Rupert’s voice filtered down.

She tilted her head toward the quarterdeck.

“Perhaps we should do the same,” he said. “Would you like to come up here?”

She grimaced. “Good goddesses, no. I would be too afraid to climb that high.”

“No need to climb. I have a pulley system that will whisk you up here in a few seconds.”

“That sounds even more frightening.”

He smiled. “Not if we did it together. If it scares you, you can hang on to me.”

She scoffed. Next he would be telling her she could wrap her legs around him and squeeze him tight. When he didn’t, she felt almost … disappointed. Blast him. She turned her attention back to swirling the clothes.

“Then I shall come to you.”

Her disappointment vanished. In fact, she felt quite breathless as he swung his legs over the side of the crow’s nest and slid down a rope. He landed neatly and strode toward her, removing his gloves.

She tried not to think about the way his biceps had bulged as he’d controlled his descent of the rope. Or the swagger of his long-legged stride as he approached her. Instead, she focused on the laundry.

She stirred so briskly, some water sloshed over the side of the tub and landed on his boots. “Oh, sorry.”

“No problem.” He reached for the paddle. “Shall I take over for a while?”

“Nay, I’m fine. Did ye have any … shirts ye wanted to add?”

He stepped closer and lowered his voice, “Are you still trying to undress me?”

She snorted and gave him a wry look. “Perhaps someday, someone will invent a machine for this.”

“No doubt, it would take a genius.”

She laughed.

“You doubt me?” He grinned. “Now I will definitely have to invent one.”

“Brigitta!” Sister Fallyn rushed down the steps. “Ye shouldn’t be alone with him.”

“He’s helping us escape my brother,” Brigitta said, coming to his defense. “And there’s no need for you to worry. He’s perfectly harmless.”

“Excuse me?” Rupert growled.

“I know he’s helping, and I appreciate that.” Sister Fallyn slanted Rupert an apologetic look. “I am sorry, young man, but ye must understand that she’s a princess—”

“Sister,” Brigitta objected.

“’Tis true, whether ye like it or not,” Sister Fallyn said.

“I understand.” Rupert gave Brigitta a mocking bow. “Thank the Light I’m too harmless to cause any danger to Your Most Royal Highness.”

Brigitta huffed. “This is ridiculous.”

“I shall console myself tonight under the stars,” Rupert continued as he slipped his gloves back on. “Even though the moons will have separated from their embrace, they will still be almost close enough to touch.” He gave Brigitta a pointed look. “And that will give me hope.”

A shiver ran down her arms. He was asking her to see him tonight, she was sure of it. She inclined her head. “I’m sure it will be lovely.”

His eyes gleamed a golden amber as his mouth curled into a smile. “Indeed.” He strode back toward the mast, grabbed a rope, and with a yank on a lever he shot back up to the crow’s nest.

Tonight. Brigitta smiled to herself. As soon as Sister Fallyn was fast asleep, she would see Rupert again.

*

Would she come?

Rupert stood alone at the wheel. He’d dismissed the helmsman, so there would be no one else on the quarterdeck. And he’d ordered the other crewmen on duty to stay toward the bow of the ship. Only the silly pelican remained close by. With most of the sails furled and a minimum breeze, he was advancing the ship very slowly. If she did come, he doubted she would be able to detect their northwestern heading.

His hands gripped the wheel. He would miss her once she was left behind on the island. It won’t be for long, he promised himself. With her safe, he could immediately set the Official Plan into action.

First step, seek out the Tourinian navy and destroy it. Hopefully, he’d be able to crash the ships without losing too many lives. He was, after all, the rightful king, so he didn’t relish the prospect of killing his own countrymen. Only Gunther and his supporters needed to die.

His thoughts returned to Brigitta’s plea that he not kill her brother. Ye’re a man of honor. Dammit. It was a matter of honor that he avenge his family and take back the throne.

But if he killed Gunther, would she be able to love him? Dammit to hell. Why should he care how she felt? Since when did he even want her to love him?

He curled his hands into fists and pounded one against the wheel. Of all the stupid things—he was falling for her. Falling for the daughter of the man who had killed his father and destroyed his family. Falling for a woman who was impossible for him to trust.

She didn’t trust him, either. She refused to confide in him. He gritted his teeth. That had to stop—

“Good evening,” she said softly as she ascended the stairs to the quarterdeck.

He swallowed hard. Why was she so damned beautiful?

“Is something wrong? Ye were frowning something fierce.”

He took a deep breath and spoke to her in Tourinian. “I wasn’t sure you would come.”