Heart of Steel - Meljean Brook [49]
“Yet you strung him up?”
“He pinched my ass.”
“A bedding usually involves a hell of a lot more than that.” Done well, at least. “I never took you for a prude.”
“He did it in front of my crew.” The humor left her face. “I could have an orgy in my cabin and my crew wouldn’t care. But if I allow a man to pinch my ass while I’m treading my lady’s decks, there’s no reason the crew couldn’t, either.”
A severe punishment for the offense, however—unless that offense wasn’t accidental. “Did the comte know?”
“I warned him. He’d made comments before, innuendos that I told him would undermine my authority. But his pride couldn’t accept that I ranked above him on my ship, that I was master and commander. He had to show my crew that I was under him, in some manner.” She suddenly shifted to the side as a mug flew past her head, shattering against the wall—half the tavern had joined in with the brothers. “And that was the end of my association with the comte.”
“Rich, handsome, charming. As is Scarsdale.”
Sharp amusement curved her mouth. “Yes, he is. Would you like to hear that I recently spent three weeks in his bed?”
No, he wouldn’t. Not out of jealousy that she’d gone to Scarsdale’s bed—though he felt the swift pain of that—but the jealousy that Yasmeen had gone to Scarsdale when she’d been hurt. After hearing Ivy mention shattered legs that morning, he knew there was more to this story than she suggested.
“Recovering?” At her nod, he asked, “Do you love him?”
“Yes.”
And more pain sliced near his heart. God. Was he so far along already? This was more unsettling—more terrifying—than he’d expected. “Yet you hand him over to my sister.”
“If she’s truly a practical woman, it would be a good match. She couldn’t ask for a more dedicated companion.”
Yet Scarsdale would never love Zenobia as she deserved, because he was pining for the heart of another.
But, no. The amusement in Yasmeen’s eyes didn’t match that of a woman who was longing for an impossible love.
“He’s your friend,” Archimedes realized.
Now a full smile shaped her lips. “Yes. We did try the bed once. But we were both laughing so hard by the middle that we couldn’t make it to the end.”
He couldn’t imagine. Laughing with her, yes. Not being able to finish? What kind of man would look at her, touch her, and not be...
“Ah,” he said. “He’s a—”
Archimedes cut himself off before disaster struck.
Her brows lifted. “A what?”
He knew many words for men who swived other men, but not a single one that wouldn’t insult the man she loved. “A friend.”
She offered him an appreciative nod. “You’re a clever man, Mr. Fox.”
“I thought I was. But although I believed that I was taking clever advantage of your drunkenness to discover so much about you, I’m coming to realize that nothing you’ve said has been anything you didn’t intend to say. And I wonder why.”
She hesitated. The sounds of the brawl intruded, a nearby table collapsing beneath the weight of tussling men, but he didn’t think that was why she waited. She was gathering herself.
Finally, she said, “After I swam to Vesuvius, I spent those first three weeks in bed. The next weeks, I spent writing letters and talking to solicitors. I had money in trust for my crew, you remember. A significant amount.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve used it often. When an eye is lost, a leg, a hand—I’ll pay for the replacement or give them a retirement. A true retirement. With the amount I gave, combined with what they earned on my ship, they wouldn’t need to work again. And those who died in service to my lady . . . my crew made a prince’s wages, but dead, their families lived like kings. I didn’t expect to pay it all out at once, however.”
Twenty-five crew members and a king’s sum to the families of each. “So it’s all gone.”
“Yes. But it shouldn’t have mattered.”
Because of the strongbox. God.
She must have seen the realization in his face. “Yes. And if I correctly interpreted a few things that your sister said while we were in London, I believe we are in the same situation, Mr. Fox—though yours not as dire.