The Far Horizon by Marsha Canham

Author:Marsha Canham
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: romance, historical romance, action adventure, pirates, adventure romance, spanish main, swashbuckling romance, pirate wolf series
Publisher: Marsha Canham

Chapter Sixteen

It was still dark when Dante gave the order to get under way. The glow in the sky from the burning galleon would be visible for miles and there was no way of knowing if there were other ships in the vicinity curious enough to take a closer look. The second galleon had fled into the night and there was no telling how far he had run or if he had made repairs and would be returning. As far as that went, the Gulden Dolphijn was on its own and if Janszoon had to fight his way back to Algiers, so be it.

The wind was steady and strong out of the east, pushing the Tribute well out into the vastness of the ocean-sea. They sailed clear of the smothering cloud cover and the sky soon became awash with stars. The air was crisp and salty-cool, making it difficult to believe they had been embroiled in a hot, fiery battle not a few hours past.

As was his habit, Dante made a complete circuit of his ship, inspecting every level. Satisfied over the lack of any real damage, he took one last look in the surgery. Digger was asleep on the table, his leg bound in a wooden splint. Grundy and Will'um of the crushed toe were sprawled in drunken stupors on the floor beside him, having obviously shared his need for the numbing effects of the rum. All three were snoring like elephants.

Dante assumed, since he saw no trace of them, that Bella and Molly were also asleep somewhere. And by somewhere he had to acknowledge the fact he wasn't exactly certain where Bella would be. Wary of making the same mistake as before, he opened the door to his cabin as quietly as he could and peeked inside without any high degree of expectation.

She was there.

She was lying belly-down on the berth, her arms and legs askew. Her head was turned to the side and her hair was loose. Threads of it trailed across her cheek and throat like a wispy veil. She had not bothered to undress or even remove her boots and for a moment Dante was tempted to do both for her. That same temptation brought him closer to the berth and he stood for several minutes watching her while she slept. The soft light cast by the oil lamp painted the contours of her face in amber shadows. He studied every curve and crease and lash then exhaled a slow breath and walked over to his desk.

He pushed aside the log books he had taken from the Spanish galleon then slid open one of the drawers and took out his box of charcoal sticks along with the leather-clad folio that held his sketches. He spread a blank page on the desk and swept the side of his hand across it to clear away any dust.

Two hours later, with the first hint of blue-gray light glowing through the gallery windows, he had filled three pages with lines and shadings.

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