Free The Red Siren by M. L. Tyndall Page B

toward Faith and led her down a set of stairs into the bowels of the ship. Men hustled to and fro but quickly snapped to attention when their captain passed. Dozens of gazes pierced Faith from all directions—even from deep within the shadows. Mr. Waite placed his warm hand over hers as they continued. The protective sentiment sent a spark through Faith that she immediately dismissed.
      She had no need of a man to protect her.
      “I am at a loss as to how to address you, sir,” she said as they turned and proceeded down the aft companionway. “Are you not simply a lieutenant?”
      Mr. Waite stiffened beside her and stretched out his neck as if pulling a cord tight. “Indeed, I am.”
      Pleased that she had flustered him, Faith grinned, knowing her expression was concealed by the shadows. “Yet my father calls you a commander, and your men refer to you as ‘Captain.’”
      “There is no formal rank between lieutenant and captain, miss. But because I am the commander of this ship, my men must call me Captain. You may address me as either Mr. Waite or Captain, if you wish.”
       Oh, how kind of you. Faith shook her head at the man’s impudence as she examined the narrow hallway. Lantern light cast monstrous shadows across the low deckhead. With each flicker of the wick or rock of the ship, they altered shape and crouched, ready to pounce upon them—upon her. Not that she hadn’t seen a dark companionway on a ship before, but on this ship full of enemies, the shadows seemed more threatening—as if they knew what mischief she was about.
      The captain showed her the master’s cabin, clerk’s cabin, and twostorerooms before he approached a large oak door at the end of the hall.
      “Allow me to show you the captain’s cabin, Miss Westcott, and then I shall give you a tour around the top deck before I escort you home.”
      Faith blinked. “What of the rest of your ship, Mr. Waite? Surely I have not seen it all.”
      “’Tis a big ship, miss,” he said, reaching for the door handle. “Many areas are not fit for a lady to enter.”
      Faith let out a huff before she realized it and covered her mouth, pretending to cough. “I beg you to change your mind, Mr. Waite.” She eased beside him, a bit closer than propriety allowed. “What have I to fear with you by my side?” She tried to flutter her lashes, but they felt like maniacal butterflies upon her cheeks.
      “Have you something in your eyes, Miss Westcott?” The captain leaned toward her, a curious look wrinkling his forehead.
      Faith lowered her shoulders and scowled. “Nay, but I beg you. I had my heart set upon seeing the entire ship, and now I find you were naught but teasing me.”
      She scrunched her lips into a pout as she had seen Hope do so often, but instead of swooning at her feet, instead of apologizing for being so obstinate, instead of offering her everything she wanted, the captain simply laughed and turned away. “Nay, my apologies, miss, but I fear your sensibilities are far too fragile.”
       My sensibilities? Good heavens. Faith’s head began to pound. “My curiosity demands it, sir!” She hadn’t meant to shout, but she had to do something to get this buffoon to show her his ship.
      Releasing the door latch, Mr. Waite studied her curiously, his eyes narrowing as if he were plotting some battle strategy and she were but a chart laid out before him. “Very well, we would not want you to think me a tease, Miss Westcott, now, would we?” And though his tone was all politeness, the look he gave her was one of a cat about to devour a mouse.
      The stench of mold, sweat, and urine assaulted her as he led her down a ladder, past the wardroom then down another ladder into the bowels of the ship. Flinging a hand to her nose, she coughed and took a step back.
      Not