4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

T he world seemed to sway gently as Clarissa slowly regained consciousness. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing the unfamiliar surroundings of the corsair captain's cabin. She blinked, attempting to clear the fog that clouded her mind and dazed her senses. The cabin was dimly lit by a single flickering lantern which cast wavering shadows upon the wooden walls adorned with sea charts and navigational instruments.

The scent of salt and aged timber permeated the air, mingling with the faint aroma of tobacco. Clarissa felt the coarse texture of a blanket beneath her fingertips, wrapped snugly around her shoulders to ward off the chill brought by the ocean air. As her vision sharpened, she noticed a figure standing nearby, his features gradually coming into focus. Not the corsair captain, but a stranger—a tall, hawkishly dark man wearing what looked like a naval uniform, though the cut and colour weren't familiar to her. She huddled the blanket closer around her and peered at him. He was tall and ruggedly handsome, with dark hair framing a strong, sun-kissed face. His eyes were particularly striking: a captivating sea-green that seemed to hold within them the depths of the ocean itself.

The navy officer spoke, apparent concern etched on his brow. Clarissa's brow furrowed as she tried to puzzle out his words. Not Italian, a language in which she was reasonably fluent after more than a year in the country, nor Greek, nor French. She could almost grasp some of the words…

"I'm sorry," she said in English. "I don't understand."

"Rest easy, my lady," he replied in astonishingly unaccented, perfect English, his voice deep and soothing. "You are safe now."

"Thank you," she murmured, struggling to comprehend the situation fully. The memory of her swoon came flooding back, an overwhelming wave that left her feeling vulnerable and exposed.

"Who are you? What happened?"

His steady gaze seemed to offer a lifeline in the tempestuous sea of her emotions. "I am Captain Rafael de Silva, of the Portuguese ship Santa Dorotéa ," he said calmly. "We conduct anti-corsair patrols in these waters, and have seized this ship. We will be putting in at the port of Valletta in Malta within a few hours."

"Oh." Struggling to comprehend the sudden change in circumstance, Clarissa lay very still.

"Where did Khadra take you from, and when?" Rafael prompted gently.

"Oh… Athens." She struggled to piece together the ordeal she'd been through. "Four—five days ago? I don't know. It was dark all the time in the cabin. He opened the door and gave me food, I think, twice a day." Every time she had cowered back against the wall, terrified of what he might try to do to her. The food had been meagre—stale bread, and a bottle of foul-tasting wine—but she had forced it down, determined to try and keep up her strength for the fight to come.

"I understand." Rafael nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Can you tell me your name?" he asked.

"Clarissa Creighton," she said. "You needn't speak to me as though I'm a simpleton. I've had a nasty shock but I'm going to be fine."

A grin bloomed on his hawkish face, making him suddenly a great deal more handsome, and she returned the smile.

"I am glad to see you have your spirit still, at least. Well." He gestured about him. "We must remain aboard this nasty little vessel until we dock in Valleta in the morning. May I attempt to find you something to cover you better, and perhaps something to eat?"

"Yes," Clarissa said, realising that she was starving hungry. "Please." She pushed herself to sit up, clumsily grabbing at the blanket as it fell away.

Rafael kept his eyes averted, Clarissa noted, and despite her lingering confusion and disorientation, she sensed that she could trust this Portuguese captain with the striking sea-green eyes. For now, at least, she would place her faith in him and hope that, together, they could navigate the uncertain waters that lay ahead.

He allowed no one else to enter the cabin, stopping a man at the door and then bringing her a simple meal of bread, cheese, and a wine far better than any she'd tasted in recent days. He remained, standing at the door, until she had finished eating, and then said;

"I will stand guard outside your door until the morning. You need not fear your sleep will be troubled, and tomorrow, we will determine our course."

They entered the harbour at Valletta in the early hours of the morning, met by the authorities who were happy to take custody of the corsairs and undertake to return the Greek captives to Athens.

Rafael had left Clarissa alone to rest, secure in the captain's cabin with two of his most trusted men at the door to keep watch, but returned to ask her what she wanted to do.

"There are English families on Malta who would be glad to take you in," he began.

She immediately shook her head. "I need to get to Florence. Lady Glenkellie and Lady Ginori will have sent word there of my disappearance and my aunt will be beside herself."

Rafael nodded thoughtfully. "It might take some time to find a ship bound for Italy. I will take you myself."

"Oh... but aren't you bound elsewhere?" Clarissa hesitated to ask any more of him. She already owed him her life.

"I am master of my own destiny," he said, somewhat arrogantly. "I determine the disposition of my ship, and where she will go. I shall take you to Livorno, and thence to Florence."

"Well... thank you," she said finally.

Rafael inclined his head. "I will see if some more suitable clothing can be obtained for you before we depart Valletta," he said rather abruptly, before leaving her alone again.

Later that day, a young woman scratched at the door. "I am Ana," she said in accented English, with a smile and a little curtsy. "Captain de Silva, he hire me to be your maid. We go to Florence, yes?"

"Yes," Clarissa said with relief.

"I have dress here for you. More, on other ship. You change, and we go?"

Of course, they would be leaving the corsair ship here, Clarissa realised, and Rafael had sent Ana and the clothes so that Clarissa could look respectable while transferring to the other ship. She had realised, sometime during the dark hours of the night, that she was utterly ruined, despite having been rescued before the worst could befall her.

Her disappearance from Athens could not be explained. Lady Glenkellie and Lady Ginori would have raised a hue and cry, for which she would not fault them; they would have been in a panic at her disappearance. Reappearing again in Italy more than a week later, on a Portuguese ship, with no explanation for what had happened to her... Well, it would be a scandal of the highest order.

But for now, she pushed those thoughts aside and changed into the dress that Ana had brought her. It was a simple, modest gown of pale blue, with a high neckline and long sleeves. Clarissa pulled it on gratefully, relieved to be out of the filthy, torn nightgown she had been wearing for days.

As she emerged from the cabin, Rafael was waiting for her on the deck. He had changed into a fresh uniform, and looked every inch the dashing naval captain.

"Are you ready, my lady?" he asked, offering her his arm.

She took it, feeling a strange fluttering in her stomach. "Yes, Captain," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

They disembarked from the corsair ship and made their way to the other ship, a sleek, modern vessel flying the Portuguese flag. The crew bustled about, preparing for departure, and Rafael only nodded to them, gesturing them to go below.

Ana confidently led the way to a large, airy cabin at the stern of the ship. "The captain's cabin, miss," she said with a nod. "He say, you safe here. Lock on door, see?" She held up a key. "We lock door and be safe."

Clarissa nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. She was safe, and she was with a man she could trust. Rafael had been kind to her from the moment he had found her on the corsair ship, and she felt a sense of gratitude towards him that she could not quite put into words.

The sway and creak of the ship soon let Clarissa know that the ship had set sail, and she settled down on the low padded bench beside the windows at the stern, enjoying being able to look out at the sea after so many days confined in a small cabin. Perhaps Rafael would even let them out on deck for a breath of fresh air later; she desperately needed one, but understood that on a ship full of men it might not be possible.

From the corner of her eye, Clarissa glimpsed movement on the floor close to her feet. With a small shriek, she jerked her feet off the floor and up underneath her. "Rats!"

Ana whirled from where she was making the bed. After a glance, the maid laughed, however. "No rats here, miss. Look. Not a rat. A cat!"

Clarissa laughed at her own foolishness as the cat slunk out from its hiding spot, looking up at her from bright green eyes. A sleek black creature, the feline looked well-fed and healthy, obviously a welcome member of the crew. "Hello, puss." Leaning down, she reached out towards the cat, who sniffed at her fingers briefly but did not deign to allow her to pat it, drawing back and padding away, before slipping through a small gap cut out of one of the boards of the door.

"Well, he appears to have the run of the ship," Clarissa murmured with a regretful sigh, before returning her gaze to the window, watching as Malta's shore slowly receded into the distance.

The sun was high and Malta long gone from sight when a knock on the door heralded the captain's return. Rafael waited for Ana to open the door to admit him, offering the maid a respectful tip of his head in response to her deep curtsy, before his eyes immediately cut to Clarissa sitting beside the window.

"I thought that you might like to come up on deck and take some fresh air," he suggested, a smile coming to his lips as Clarissa immediately bounded to her feet. "Ah. The idea pleases you?"

"I've been locked up for days. Some sun on my face would be most welcome!" she declared.

Rafael nodded, and gestured for her to precede him, as the passageway would be too narrow for them to walk arm in arm. Ana trailed along behind them.

As Clarissa climbed the narrow stairway to the deck, a black shadow darted between her legs, almost making her trip. Behind her, she heard Rafael say something in Portuguese that she thought might be a curse.

"Are you all right, Miss Creighton? Fernando is careless of whose feet he gets under."

"Fernando, is that the cat's name? He is a handsome beast." Gaining the deck, Clarissa breathed in a great lungful of fresh sea air, sighing with pleasure at the wind lifting her hair off her hot neck.

"We tolerate him because he is the finest rat-catcher on the high seas." Rafael joined her, placing a hand under her elbow and guiding her to the rail, away from where men hurried about tightening ropes and adjusting sails. "Just do not be fooled into touching his belly, no matter how he may tempt you by showing it off lying on his back. It is a vicious trap and your hand will not escape unscathed. His teeth are sharp enough to penetrate even leather gloves."

Clarissa laughed. "I thank you for the warning, sir! I should surely have fallen into that trap, and likely without gloves on, for I have none."

"I am sorry we did not have the time to obtain you a more complete wardrobe," Rafael said, his tone apologetic. "Purchasing any significant quantity of elegant ladies' clothing would likely have drawn more attention than either you or I would have wished, I think."

"Oh, please believe I have no complaints!" Clarissa smoothed her hand over her skirts. "Everything about my present situation is an infinite improvement over my previous one, from the clothes and the scenery to the company."

He inclined his head in a small bow. The ship lurched just then, changing direction to tack with the wind, a vast boom swinging overhead as the sails moved, and Rafael reached out instinctively to steady Clarissa. She had already shifted her weight, however, quite comfortable and confident even as the rail they stood at swooped towards the waves.

"You are an experienced sailor, I think," he murmured. "Obviously, you sailed here from England at some point?"

"Two years ago, close enough." She looked ahead, thinking of their destination. "My aunt Marianne married, and her husband has family in Italy. They planned a honeymoon and invited my sister Diana and I to join them. Diana married last year and returned to England, but I chose to stay." She didn't add that she was in defiance of her parents' wishes at this point; her mother's letters demanding that Clarissa return to England had become both more frequent and more strident in recent months. Clarissa knew all too well what awaited her at home. At best, a London season where she would be expected to make a grand match. At worst, a suitor already chosen for her.

"And your uncle and aunt are still in Italy?"

"In Florence, yes. My aunt had twins a few months ago and was not well after their birth, and they were quite small, as I'm told twins are sometimes wont to be. They elected to remain in Florence for a while, and I was offered the opportunity to travel to Greece when two older lady relatives decided to take a trip to Athens."

"These are the ladies you spoke of?" Rafael was a good listener, Clarissa thought; quiet and watchful, his eyes never leaving her face as she spoke.

"Lady Ginori and Lady Glenkellie." Clarissa nodded. She had not yet revealed the extent of her relationship, nor the fact that she was not merely ‘Miss Creighton' but she knew that she must do so now. Taking a deep breath, she said: "Lady Glenkellie is the dowager marchioness, her son is the gentleman my aunt married. Lady Ginori is her sister, the Contessa Ginori."

"Well-connected relatives," Rafael noted, but he did not look fazed.

Clarissa decided not to explain that the relationship was tenuously based on Marianne having once been married to her uncle. It mattered not to how they looked on each other; Marianne considered Clarissa her niece and no aunt could have been more well-loved. "My father is an earl," she admitted.

Rafael only nodded, and Clarissa blinked. She had expected slightly more reaction at such a revelation.

"The ladies will have turned Athens upside down in search of you," Rafael murmured, and Clarissa winced.

"Unfortunately. Yes."

His sea-green eyes were thoughtful as he looked down at her, but he asked no more questions. Only offered his arm and invited her to walk around the deck to stretch her legs for a little while. Clarissa certainly appreciated the opportunity, and gladly accepted.

They remained on deck for a half hour or so, before one of the men called something to Rafael in Portuguese.

"Regrettably, I am called to my duties," he said after replying briefly to the man. "I will escort you back to the cabin. While I have the respect of my men, it would be best if you and Ana remain in the cabin unless I am there to escort you. I will make sure you are able to come on deck twice a day at least, and we should be in Livorno no later than tomorrow evening."

Clarissa thanked him with genuine appreciation for his taking the time, and she and Ana returned to the captain's cabin. The cat Fernando accompanied them, throwing himself on the floor and rolling to show a thin white stripe on his sleek furry belly.

"Don't touch it!" Clarissa exclaimed as Ana cooed and bent to stroke the cat. "The captain warned me off touching his belly, lest he draw blood."

"Ah, a wicked demon to tempt us so," Ana chided the cat. "Be off with you."

Fernando rolled, yawned, and jumped up onto the window seat beside Clarissa. Sitting down, he wrapped his tail neatly around his front paws and gazed at her. Clarissa reached out a cautious hand and this time, the cat deigned to permit her touch, leaning into the caress as she gently stroked his glossy head.

Lost in thought, Clarissa remained where she was for hours, petting the cat and gazing out at the rolling waves, until a tap at the door heralded the arrival of a meal for them, delivered by a shy young boy who couldn't look directly at either woman.

After the awful food she had been given as a prisoner on the corsair ship, and the simple meal the night before, the food delivered now looked like a feast to Clarissa. Fresh flatbreads, thinly sliced meats and cheeses, olives and tiny tomatoes, were accompanied by grapes and peaches and a pitcher of fresh fruit juice Clarissa couldn't immediately identify the flavour of.

" Rummien ," Ana said in her own language when Clarissa asked, then tried in Italian. " Melograno ?"

"Pomegranate?" Clarissa thought that was.

" Iva , yes!" Ana nodded enthusiastically. "You like?"

"Delicious." Clarissa was starving hungry. She tried not to make a pig of herself, eating in a ladylike way and forcing herself to slow down so Ana could have her share, but when Ana wiped her fingers on a napkin and said she was done, Clarissa finished off every scrap of food on the tray.

"You should rest, miss," Ana suggested as Clarissa sipped the last of the sweet pomegranate juice, and Clarissa nodded. Her eyelids were already beginning to droop. Terror had kept her from proper sleep since being snatched from her bed in the middle of the night in Athens almost a week ago, even when Rafael stood outside her door the previous night. Now she felt warm and safe, and with her belly full, she settled into the surprisingly comfortable bed, closed her eyes, and fell into a sound, deep sleep.