Page 28 of Valour

“Oh?” he asked. “Now?”

“Now,” Hester said, marching off in the direction of her cabin, Winston attempting to keep up. Yes, they were friends, but it was just sex. As she’d worked under the sun all day, surrounded by men with their shirts off, her thoughts had gone from mere pleasant imaginings to downright filthy.

“Whatever could be so urgent, Captain?”

Hester smirked as she opened the door and closed it behind them. “Do you recall that kiss we shared all those years ago?”

“Yes…” Winston winced and rubbed the side of his neck, where a crescent-shaped scar of pale skin showed.

God, she was shaking, hot under the collar. Imagining her naked skin pressed against his. “Do that again.”

“Hester, no!” Winston backed into the door, his palms up, shaking his head.

“No?” Had she misheard him? She stepped towards him, and he flattened himself more thoroughly against the door.

“That was a mistake—I thought you agreed!”

She had agreed at the time. “Things change.”

“Look, I know, it’s been a while for everyone. I understand, but…no,” Winston said, his hand reaching for the door handle at his back.

He had not just refused her! Maybe he thought she wanted a relationship? “It’s just sex, Winston. Come on, no strings attached.”

Winston shook his head. “I think you need to cool off, Hess. Take a swim or something.”

He bolted through the door and out of sight, and Hester yowled, kicking at the wall. How could anyone refuse her? Let alone two men in one day. She checked her reflection in the mirror, but no, she was still ravishing. It was an absolute outrage.

She left her cabin, slamming the door, and marched through the corridor and out onto the starlit deck, her breath coming in ragged pants, dragging her hands through her hair.

A swim. She paced the deck, eyeing the dark water. Maybe a swim would burn off some of her pent-up energy. She stripped down to her underclothes and threw a rope ladder over the side, climbed partway down it, and then dove into the sea.

She landed in a haze of bubbles and cold so biting that she shrieked when she surfaced. Hester struck out, starting to swim up and down the lengths of the Valour and the Intrepid, although not too close. It always gave her the shivers to swim too close to ships, like she might be sucked under them. The exercise was helping, her frustrations channelled into movement, the heat between her thighs quelled by the cool water.

“What are you doing?”

Hester spun. Swimming towards her, broad shoulders shining with water in the moonlight, was Septimus.

Hester rolled her eyes and groaned. “What does it look like I’m doing? The same thing as you. Swimming.” Honestly, she was through with men and their stupidity for today.

Septimus swam past her. “Why?”

As if she’d explain that to him. “I wanted to. Why are you swimming?”

He stopped and turned to face her. “It helps clear my head.”

“Helps you clear your conscience, you mean?”

“What are you talking about?”

Was it wise to anger him further? She didn’t care. “You risk the lives of your crew in this hasty departure. Surely you realise that.”

“It is because you are forcing my hand,” he snarled, his face contorting.

Hester bristled, her magic thrumming in her chest, the rising wind whipping the calm sea into little waves. “You cannot blame this on me.”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” he spat.

Hester raised her eyebrows. “Try me.”