His hands had moved from the railing to her breasts, and they lifted in his palms when she drew in a deep, quavering breath and reached to touch his head behind her. One finger eased down beneath her bodice to find her nipple and brush over it, and then his arms dropped from her, hands moving back to the railing on either side of her.
Victoria tried to move, to turn to face him, but he kept her in position, looking out at the sea, with his hips and another insistent appendage. "No, you don't, my dear," he said in a most uneven voice, deep in her ear. "I told you I would not be provoked, and I won't. And don't think I will allow you the excuse of my earlier demands for recompense. I have decided that you have quite fulfilled any debt you might have to me."
She realized she was shaking, and damp everywhere, and quite suddenly alone.
Left alone, standing at the rail with the sea breeze brushing over her like the wisp of his mouth.
Damn him.
"I wonder who shall be the first to give way," Kritanu murmured into Eustacia's ear. He stood behind her, arms wrapped around her waist, and rumbled a chuckle against her back.
They'd been enjoying the sea evening from a high deck near the stern of the ship when Victoria positioned herself at the railing below. When Sebastian joined her moments later, Kritanu and Eustacia could have moved on, but didn't.
Thus they had been privy not so much to the actual verbal exchange betwixt the two young people, but enough of their activity to discern what was occurring.
"I certainly hope Victoria has enough sense not to make an impulsive decision, or one ruled by desires instead of reason," Eustacia replied. But she had seen the way her niece sighed and leaned into Sebastian, and how she'd drawn deep, shaky breaths after he'd left. When she thought no one would see.
"I'm certain she wouldn't do something so imprudent. Gardella women are certainly not known for their impulsiveness when it comes to matters of the heart."
Eustacia could not contain a smile. "What a shrewish strega I've become, vero? Age is getting to me and becoming too heavy a burden. I have forgotten what it is like to be young and tempted by a young, handsome man."
"A young, handsome man nearly eight years your junior." He was laughing behind her and pressed a kiss to her ear. "Oh, how you fought your attraction to me. I was too young, much too young, and I was only a Comitator, a mere trainer, not a Venator, so I was beneath your notice."
"I was furious when Wayren sent you to me! As if you, at seventeen, knew more about fighting vampires than I, a chosen Venator, who had been vis bullaed for nearly four years, since I was twenty. Of course, I had no idea how much I would learn from a Comitator." She half turned to look at him, and he adjusted to her side, so they leaned on the railing, looking at each other. They were exactly the same height: his golden, compact body and her slender one that stooped just slightly with age.
"I know it. And I was stunned by your beauty and put off by your rudeness, your cheeky attitude, and your abhorrent fighting skills."
"I never tire of hearing you reminisce about my stunning beauty."
"And I never tire of hearing you claim that, thanks to Wayren's insistence that I train you, your life was saved numerous times."
They smiled at each other, companionable and comfortable in the night and with their memories. Though her joints throbbed more than usual, and despite the fact that she was apprehensive about returning to Rome, Eustacia would not have wished herself back to those younger years.
"Your niece is just as beautiful and talented and stubborn as you were. It is no wonder Vioget looks at her the way he does."
"I do not know all that has transpired between them; I fear it is more than I would like, and I hope there is no lasting attachment there."
"You do not wholly trust him."
"No. I cannot. He can be a valuable ally; he already has proven himself helpful to us. But I cannot take him at face value, for he plays whatever role it suits him to play, whenever he wishes. And he plays it well. He will say and do whatever he must to get what he wants."
"And what is it that he wants?"
"That is what disturbs me the most, Kritanu. I do not know. I do not know what is truly in his heart."
"Perhaps you are feeling a bit chary about your own intuition because of Max's disappearance. You trusted him implicitly."
"Trust. I still do and will until my grave. He is either dead, or… Well, I do not care to think on it. I was able to learn nothing about him or his whereabouts in Venezia; I can only hope we shall find him in Roma."
"If not, then you fear the prophecy will come to pass."
She nodded once. "As our mystic Rosamund wrote: 'The golden age of the Venator shall end at the foot of Roma.' If Nedas does indeed loose the full power of Akvan's Obelisk, I fear this battle in Roma will be the end of us all."
Chapter 13
A Wager Is Made
After her interlude with Sebastian, Victoria stubbornly stayed away from all areas of the ship's deck when the stars and moon were out, confining her strolls to sunlit ones.It was odd seeing him every day, including during those daytime walks around and between the masts and other objects fixed to the deck. She was used to having him appear unexpectedly—not being seated across from her at a meal. He acted as though he barely knew her, politely bowing and calling her Mrs. Withers whenever they came in contact, and spreading his charm evenly among the four other females on the ship. The captain's wife and her sisters were duly charmed.
Victoria preferred him at a distance. It was easier to keep hold of thoughts of Phillip and how much she'd loved him and how recently she'd been widowed when she saw Sebastian only in passing.
But the fact was, she had thought of Sebastian, and quite often. It was hard to banish the reminder of his muscular body pressing her against the rail, and near impossible to forget the kisses they'd shared—particularly when his sensual mouth was curved in that welcoming smile whenever she walked in the room. His intentions were clear to her, at least; she hoped Aunt Eustacia hadn't read them as well.
And the fact was, Victoria did wonder what would be the harm in giving in to what they both wanted. He'd made it clear that he had no interest in anything other than a mutually beneficial dalliance, which was all she wanted, or could allow herself to engage in, anyway. And there was no possibility of a baby to result from any liaison she might wish to embark upon, as Victoria had been provided a medicinal potion when she was married to Phillip to prevent pregnancy. It was an old tradition of the Gardellas; for no one, least of all Victoria, wished to have a Venator carrying a child.
If she were going to see what it was like to take a lover to whom she was not married or had no other attachment, Sebastian would be a rather logical choice. At least he understood and accepted her life. He was aware of her obligations, and didn't have that overbearing sense of protectiveness that any other man would have. He wouldn't need to be lied to; nor would she need to hide her vis bulla from him; nor would he expect anything more from her in the way of marriage.
He was attractive and charming, and he made her feel a bit reckless, even for a Venator. There was, of course, the whole issue as to whether she could completely trust him. But, trustworthy or not, he was a fine kisser, among other things, and she was a Venator and could take care of herself.
It was certainly something to consider.
Other than trying to avoid Sebastian—and thus her confused, tantalizing feelings about him—during the course of the voyage, Victoria had little to do.
At first, she tried to keep sharp by practicing her kalari-payattu in the small chamber she shared with Verbena, but it was much too small. She kept kicking one or other of the beds, and at one point slammed her elbow into the wall when she misjudged a spin.
That sent her searching for another place on the ship that might accommodate a bit more movement. More accurately, it sent Oliver to search for such a space for her. He did manage to locate a storage room that, because the trip was less than a fortnight, was not being completely stuffed with supplies that would have been needed for a longer voyage.
So Victoria practiced there, sometimes with Kritanu and other times without, while Oliver sat just outside the door in case anyone tried to come in. It would have been exceedingly embarrassing for one of the shipmates to barge in on Victoria wearing loose pants and a tuniclike shirt, as she was spinning and kicking throughout the room.
One day she had been practicing for well over an hour, using the crates scattered throughout the room as part of her moves. She spun and kicked, launched herself up onto one of them, whirled with the momentum of her movement, and' leaped down and across the room onto another one.
Victoria was perspiring and her hair had begun to straggle from its braid, plastering to her face and neck. She whipped around and snatched up a machete she'd been using in her battles with Kritanu in days past, and when she turned back around, she saw the door to the room opening.
It was, of course, Sebastian.
"How did you get in here?" she asked, huffing and puffing. She stood on one of the crates across from the door and swiped a hand over her damp forehead. Her sword dangled from a loose grip. She would not even think of how she must look, with damp patches along the sides of her shirt and the loose, unfeminine trousers. And her feet, wearing only light stockings.
"Your man Oliver, of course. He and I have had several conversations during your practices—a matter of gaining his trust, you know. So today I suggested that it might be acceptable to allow me to watch for a bit."
He walked over and picked up Kritanu's matching machete. "Learning to fence, are you?"
"The skill is called ankathari, and it is much more lethal than a Frenchman's pretty fencing pirouettes and parries. Notice the inflexibility and width of the blade. Our weapons are much more serious than those slender, bendable ones you use."
"Oho! So you wish to challenge me to a duel, do you? I am pleased to accept." He swung the sword, whistling it through the air, then put it aside as he stripped off his coat and cravat. She tried not to notice as he unsnagged the two buttons of his collar and rolled up his sleeves, showing skin tanned the color of toffee.
