Page 35 of Across the Star-Kissed Sea (Proper Romance Regency #1)

Elias

N ight’s blackness hugged the Marianne , cool and thick, as I wandered the upper deck with Captain Peyton. No moon shone to hold back the dark. Only a spattering of stars through wispy clouds graced the skies.

“It’s been years since I sailed the Adriatic,” the captain said. I could barely see his face in the soft glow of a couple lanterns at the waist of the frigate. “There are some beautiful islands in the region.”

“Are there?” Though a late October chill permeated everything it touched, a warmth that had taken up residence in my chest some weeks ago refused to let me truly feel it.

Perhaps it was simply my scattered mind that refused to be bothered by the cold.

It didn’t register much of anything, to be honest, including the captain’s words.

Whether Miss Byam stood beside me or not, I could hardly focus on conversations enough to give well-thought-out responses.

“Sure to inspire the romantics among us.” Even through my muddled thoughts, I caught the teasing in his voice.

“I look forward to seeing it, then,” I said.

Talking to the captain was better than walking the deck alone with my deluge of thoughts, but keeping up in the conversation was nearly as difficult as trying to fall asleep had been an hour before.

As long as we didn’t stray to the subject of Miss Byam, however.

Then I’d never sleep. “Remind me of our orders while there.” I’d been told before, of course.

There had been little room in my lovesick brain to keep the orders straight.

The light on Captain Peyton’s face grew stronger as we ambled toward the center of the deck.

“We are to join with Captain Brisbane’s squadron at Lissa.

Napoleon has been attempting to build up his strength on the western shores of the Adriatic.

It’s the squadron’s responsibility to thwart his efforts as best we can. ”

Ah, yes. That sounded vaguely familiar. We’d only received our orders that day. Or was it yesterday now? As chaplain, I couldn’t be faulted for forgetting so soon. I wasn’t involved in planning, like the senior officers, who had no doubt learned the orders by heart.

We climbed up to the quarterdeck, and Peyton wandered to the port rail. The only other men nearby were Mr. Sanchez and another helmsman speaking quietly.

“What do you think of our new carpenter’s mate?” the captain asked.

That was drifting closer to the subject of Miss Byam than I needed.

“I think ...” What could I say? Mr. Jackson seemed near ready to seal the man in a locker and forget about him on account of his laziness.

The rest of the carpenter’s crew avoided him for fear of being disciplined by association.

I’d overheard one of them say he caught Mr. Byam trying to light a pipe on the orlop too close to the powder magazine.

It might have been a tale sprung from growing disgust rather than a truth, but somehow, I could readily picture Lewis Byam being that reckless.

“I think it is still too soon for me to discuss Mr. Byam’s merits. I hardly know him.”

Peyton grunted. “He’s a far cry from what I imagined the brother of Miss Byam to be.”

There she was. I steeled my jaw against the smile that tried to overtake my face. It was getting more difficult not to react each time I heard her name.

“I suppose it was too hopeful of me to expect someone equally dedicated to his duty.” Captain Peyton sighed, staring out to sea. “Every crew has its weakness. Some more than others.”

I mumbled my agreement. Yes, Miss Byam was dedicated to anything she set her mind to.

Her word became her creed. And that determination glimmered in her deep-blue eyes, even when she wasn’t being challenged.

The set of her mouth, the way she threw back her shoulders and charged ahead at every moment.

Life itself had been a challenge, and she would not cower, nor would she shirk her responsibility.

“You’re rather distant tonight, Doswell.”

I snapped out of my reverie and cleared my throat. “Am I?” So much for trying to hide it.

“You should get some rest. You’ve been walking these decks later into the night than usual.”

He’d noticed that too. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Very little that happened on a ship went unnoticed by a good captain. But how could I retire when my mind wouldn’t still? “Yes, Captain.”

“I should retire myself. Georgana will be wondering where I’ve gone. She’s been rather restless at night lately.”

Clearly, we all were kept awake by our various agitations. She with her secret, he with the responsibilities of his position, and I with this growing flame I didn’t know how to contain.

The captain nodded his farewell and headed below, leaving me alone at the rail and vulnerable to the firestorm of thoughts of Miss Byam and her strength and the tender feelings I couldn’t help that I’d been trying to dodge all night.

I ran a hand through my hair. How could I keep all this inside?

Sharing my heart hadn’t gone well the last four times.

But try as I might, I was an open book. Miss Byam would discover the truth sooner or later.

I leaned against the rail, peering into the muted waves barely visible in the darkness.

When the truth did spill out, it would be the end of this friendship as we knew it, for better or worse.

A small piece of me yearned to know what it would be.

Tiny pinpricks of light burst into existence in the sea below me.

Hundreds, then thousands trailing in the Marianne ’s wake.

I stiffened, breath catching. The little lights faded quickly, replaced by more as the ship meandered through the water.

I held on to my spectacles, leaning farther over the rail.

I’d read about this phenomenon. Not many people had the opportunity to witness it.

Tiny creatures with the power of light. Could I have asked for a more perfect distraction from . ..

I glanced behind me at the currently oblivious crew. I didn’t want to share this moment of discovery with them, but dared I wake the one person I wanted to see it?

That growing flame wasted no time in making my mind up for me. With one last glance at the shimmering ocean, I dashed for the hatchway, praying the dinoflagellates and their ethereal glow would still be there when we returned.

May

At the top of the ladder, Elias seized my hand with a vigor I hadn’t experienced from him before, and I let him pull me toward the stern.

I rubbed sleep from my eyes as we passed shadows of seamen on watch.

If I had to be awoken in the middle of the night, it had better be Elias doing the waking, but was this really necessary?

The helmsmen gave us curious glances as we passed them, their faces barely illuminated by the binnacle lanterns. Elias led me to the stern rail and pointed.

“Thank heavens. They’re still here,” he said.

I tugged my thin coat over the dress I’d hastily thrown on, the chill night air quickly seeping through all my layers. If this was anything short of a miracle, I would find it very difficult to warrant him barging into my cabin this late at night.

I followed his gesture toward the sea.

“Is it not absolutely stunning?” he whispered.

For a moment, my eyes could not comprehend what they saw. The waves glowed, a brilliant blue light ebbing and flowing across their surface. “What in the name of—” I clasped the rail, my fingers curling over Elias’s, as I leaned out to get a closer look.

“They’re called dinoflagellates,” he said, covering my hand with his other one. His warmth seeped into my skin. “Tiny sea organisms disturbed by Marianne ’s passing.”

“That’s a rather dull name for magic.” The light thinned and expanded as the ship crept forward. The blue danced over the wake, a billion azure stars melding into one undulating specter.

“Look!” He pointed a little ways off starboard.

I squinted. “I don’t see anything.” Just the swirling light.

He took a few steps to starboard, pulling me with him until I was nestled against his side.

It blocked out some of the chill, and for a moment, I considered asking to share his thick, wool greatcoat.

Most likely, he’d have just removed it and let me take the whole of its warmth.

Elias would give me anything I asked and more. Until he had nothing left to give.

“Keep your gaze a few yards out,” he said, breath tickling my cheek. “Let’s see if they come again.”

“They?” I did as he instructed and held my breath.

Elias’s arm tightened around me. “I saw them for the briefest second. I hope they swim back this way.”

“What am I looking for?”

He squeezed me. “Patience.”

I grinned. Looking for patience was true enough, though as long as his arm stayed around me, I could wait for anything.

A sleek form outlined in blue glided out from the dinoflagellates’ glow. I gasped, not trusting my eyes. Another followed after it. And a third. Dolphins, but they glowed like they’d swallowed the moon. “How do they do that?”

Elias remained silent for a moment, then said in a secretive voice, “Do you believe in mermaids, Miss Byam?”

“If I didn’t before, I certainly do now.” It felt as though I’d entered some fantastical dream. How could this sight be real? It was the stuff of fairy stories. I nudged him in the ribs with my elbow. “As a clergyman, is it not beneath your station to speak of myths?”

“Not if in jest.”

The dolphins swam back and forth across Marianne ’s wake, sometimes diving low and disappearing into the deep for a few moments before popping back up where we least expected them.

I could almost imagine they were water nymphs playing under the cover of a velvet sky, the stars abandoning their posts to join in the merriment.

Elias was right; I wouldn’t have wished to miss this.

I glanced up at him to find him looking at me rather than the phenomenon before us. “What is it?” I asked.