The Jezebel (Taskill Witches 3)

And the golden burn in the glen.

Show me the birch and the rowan tree,

And the land in sun or rain.”

Across the deck she looked his way, and Roderick could see that even while she sang, she was fretful. Why? What had Clyde said to her? Moreover, why did her mood call to him, forcing him to her side, no matter what the consequences?

On she sang.

“Oh, the heath and the bracken call to me,

From that lovely Highland glen.

May I linger there with you, my love,

On a future summer day.”

When she reached the final words her glance lingered on him a moment, then she looked about. Roderick could see she was startled to find the entire crew had paused to listen to her. Once again she had drawn their attention. He could not blame them. However, what he should be doing was telling her more sternly to go below deck and stay there, out of view of the men. Sight of her would only cause grievance amongst the men, for her presence broke the ship’s rules. Yet when he’d set eyes on her earlier, nothing else had seemed to matter.

Gone was the deeply solemn air that she’d had about her when they first met the evening before. He was glad of that. Was it familiarity with her that made him look upon her in a different way? No, she was different. For a moment pride leaped in him, when it occurred to him that he had brought it out in her. Roderick could scarcely turn his gaze away. How beautiful she was, with her hair drifting on the breeze, her cheeks glowing and a smile on her face that seemed only for him—a secret smile that told him she was thinking about what had passed between them. That made him crave her again.

It was more than that, though. Moments after she had set foot above deck it was as if the day became brighter. The sun gleamed on the crests of the waves. And when she stood in the prow, chin lifted to the breeze, he could see the thrill on her face as the wind tugged at her hair. Even the wind had turned in their favor when she smiled.

He strode across the deck to her side, gesturing to the men as he went, indicating they should get back to their duties now.

She watched him close in on her and there was trepidation in her expression.

“You have the voice of an angel,” he commented, eager to put her at ease.

Visibly relieved, she wilted against the railing at her back. “I’m glad you liked the song.”

“The voice of an angel sounds every bit as sweet on a Jezebel.” It was Clyde who had spoken.

“Jezebel?” Maisie repeated in a shocked tone.

Roderick shook his head.

Clyde gave her a toothless grin.

Roderick frowned at the old man. “You have been treated to a song. Do not cast aspersions.”

“Aspersions? What aspersions? I haven’t yet decided whether this particular Jezebel

is a good woman or a bad.”

Roderick noticed how distressed she became on hearing that, lifting her hand to her throat as if she feared for her life. He frowned. “Clyde, I forbid you to jest about our passenger.”

The old sailor gave him a knowing glance, but did not respond. Nor did he move away. It was as if he truly didn’t trust the woman. What grounds did he have for that? True enough, not one of them knew anything about her. Roderick had wondered about her origins several times himself that day. That was no reason to make her afraid. With a disparaging glance, he barked out an order. “You have duties to occupy you elsewhere.”

“Aye, Cap’n.” Clyde limped away, but with frequent glances back over his shoulder, as if he meant to keep watching.

Maisie watched him as he went, and she looked concerned.

“What did he say to upset you?”

Her head jerked up. Studying him with surprise in her eyes, she denied it. “He didn’t upset me. I think he heard me humming to myself and he asked for a song, that’s all.”

“You were nervous to sing?”