A Captain and a Rogue. Liz Tyner

and Benjamin knew no friendship was offered.

      Benjamin refused to say he didn’t understand, but instead turned to Thessa and flicked his brows upwards.

      ‘He offers you hospitality, hopes to help you with your needs so you can be on your way quickly,’ Thessa translated, rushing the sentence.

      All those words could not have been quite the same neat package Thessa presented him with, but they would do.

      ‘I too wish to leave soon, though the beauty of the harbour is rare.’ He thought of Thessa’s face. But he didn’t want to lose the cargo waiting in Blackwall and wanted the feeling of owning his own bed, his own world. Staying long on Melos would not do him well.

      A hint of redness touched her cheeks. Stephanos said something else and she grimaced, but the frown was the result Stephanos desired because his laugh bellowed out.

      White-hot sparks burst into Benjamin’s thoughts. He’d never felt this kind of jealousy. He knew the emotion. On his first voyage, he’d been jealous of the seamen who knew everything there was to know about sailing. He’d been envious when he’d seen a particularly handsome sailing vessel—before Ascalon. But jealousy concerning a woman—an unthinkable emotion for weak minded men.

      The stirrings of the unfamiliar feeling hit him in the stomach and anger flared towards Stephanos. The man was a dandy. Granted, not a Brummell version, but all the same, a dandy.

      And he had a slashing scar which began above his eyebrow and moved into his hairline. Completely unbecoming and likely from some drink-sodden frivolity gone awry which he turned into a tale of bravery to impress Thessa.

      Stephanos waved a hand towards a stone wall, uncompleted, and with stacks of rocks near each side of it, gesturing Benjamin to follow.

      Just inside the low wall that would surround the new house, Benjamin saw a rough table, with planked boards for seating. Trees, not big enough for true shade, gave the illusion of coolness.

      ‘Poto.’ Stephanos raised his hand. His words, while not loud, carried to someone Benjamin couldn’t see until a head darted from the doorway of the smaller house.

      Stephanos took Thessa’s hand, leading her, and guided her to a seat.

      Thessa spoke to Stephanos in Greek, reproof in her tone. He laughed and his eyes crinkled at the edges. His head leaned towards her and he said a few soft words, and a blush spread on her cheeks.

      Then he turned to Benjamin and perused him. Stephanos’s cheeks puffed, probably because of the thin line of his lips.

      Thessa spoke again and the man’s eyes met her face, though his attention had never really left her. She gestured, her arm going towards the harbour.

      Stephanos shook his head.

      Thessa’s eyes narrowed and the speed of her speech increased. Her voice became more intent. While she talked, rapidly, the man placed his fingertips at Thessa’s arm and the fingers tightened.

      ‘Polyagapimenos.’ He looked into Thessa’s eyes and spoke the word as if they were alone—an endearment.

      Benjamin could feel a grinding in his stomach, and a sudden need for movement, but he forced himself to sit silent and appear unconcerned.

      Stephanos spoke again, words quiet and effectively shutting Benjamin out of conversation. Even if the words had been shouted Benjamin couldn’t have understood, but Stephanos knew that well. Then he reached out and brushed back a tendril of hair from Thessa’s brow, one wisp so small the invisible lock could not have distressed her. And his hand lingered, then fell away.

      Benjamin felt something crack within him and anger began to war with the good sense in his body.

      Thessa was going to be married to the man. But the display of possession was not necessary.

      Stephanos’s gaze locked on Benjamin’s and he spoke, but the words were more measured, slow drops in a pail, not the rapid spraying to confuse.

      Thessa took a moment before translating. ‘He wishes you to spend the night here. He wants you to have his hospitality, though you will soon be leaving. And discuss the transaction of the stone.’

      Her eyes didn’t match her words. And Benjamin had heard tales of the area. And not just the myths or the legends of the women, but of men who could fight until the last drop of blood had been drained. Looking into Stephanos’s eyes, he decided the stories he’d heard had not been yarns. Enjoying the Greek’s hospitality would not be healthy or wise. Ben knew he would stay on Ascalon.

      Benjamin felt his chest expand with his breath. ‘I need to discuss the purchase, so my men can begin digging.’

      Stephanos spoke, his dark eyes never leaving Benjamin’s face. Benjamin had observed more pleasant looks on the faces of men who’d tried to gut him with a blade. He knew, though, that the man wasn’t thinking of violence. Instead, he was fluffing his feathers for Thessa and doing a little blustering dance.

      ‘He feels a guest should not have to dig and he wishes to see what is so important to you that you would sail so far to collect,’ Thessa translated.

      Benjamin put his forearm on the table, aware of the strain to the sleeve fabric of his coat that stretching his muscles could bring. He would wager his feathers were as bright as Stephanos’s.

      Benjamin answered Thessa, but his eyes met Stephanos. ‘It is an old stone with a woman’s face and women can be so sentimental. My brother is besotted with Melina, who wants the stone as a memory of her homeland. My brother’s mind is not clear, so he thinks the folly of my retrieving it will endear him to his new wife. A quest of the heart, if you will.’

      Benjamin might—might—have thought Stephanos didn’t understand him, but at the mention of the heart quest, Stephanos’s pupils ascended upwards in a quick dart to show his feelings of such a journey.

      ‘My brother,’ Benjamin continued, ‘near puts rose petals at his wife’s feet. Sings of his love to her standing under her window at night. Composes poetry for her at all hours of the day. It is the way a true man of my country treats his beloved.’

      Well, Warrington had married Melina and he surely had time for the Byron-and-flowers nonsense since a man’s eyes didn’t always close when his head hit the pillow.

      Thessa watched Benjamin. She opened her mouth to translate. He continued before she could speak.

      ‘In fact, she has complained of her fingertips being tired of his kisses. It is such a sincere love. Made all the sweeter by the flavour of her culture that Melina brings to the household. Having a mix of the two worlds makes her all the more fascinating. Even I would never have imagined how the English and Greek could blend to bring the best of each to life. A woman with such a history is a rare discovery, a treasure for an Englishman.’ Benjamin’s gaze flicked to Thessa and back to her Stephanos.

      Benjamin knew diplomacy was more important than challenge, but something else had controlled him in that half second, and the primitive urge to taunt Stephanos kept rising up.

      Stephanos’s eyes narrowed. Then he spoke slowly to Thessa, each word a sentence in meaning from the way he bit down on it.

      She turned to Benjamin, her words slow. ‘The price on the statue just increased since it is so valuable to the English.’

      Benjamin kept his tone soft. ‘It is of little consequence to me if I decide not to purchase it. I don’t need a basket of rocks.’ That wasn’t entirely true. But from watching Stephanos’s face, he had no doubt that the man could understand English quite well. ‘Rocks are nothing compared to the beauty of heaven-sent treasures around us.’ Benjamin had no trouble letting his gaze rest on Thessa when he said the words.

      ‘Since I will not leave quickly with the rocks,’ he continued, ‘I will stay longer and enjoy the natural beauty of the island.’ And no matter if he’d be surrounded by blades on all sides, Thessa did capture his eyes.

      Stephanos