‘But I don’t need you to work for me.’
Damn it. She had meant to exchange her work for his boat, the dowry that Lord Domac wanted.
She squared her shoulders. ‘I can do many things. I am a good learner. What other work do you need someone to do?’
‘I don’t need a worker.’ He glanced up as the sails were unfurled. ‘I have plenty of those. What I need,’ he said as he looked back to her, ‘is a daughter.’
‘And what does a daughter do?’
‘She lives a good life and shares it with me.’
Ah. He wanted a maid and companion in his old age. ‘Perhaps you want a wife. I could help you find one. Someone who will make you happy. Who will grace your bed and—’
He chuckled. ‘I have no need for a wife. The woman I loved is gone.’
‘But I could find you another one. Many women want someone to care for. It need not be me. I am no good at cleaningand serving. Not like men want.’ She sighed. ‘I can make hot tea. I cannot ease your old age.’
Her belly trembled as she spoke these words. This was a risky gambit. If she wasn’t what he needed, would he leave her behind in a foreign country? What would she do then? But she didn’t want to spend the rest of her days playing nursemaid to this man. Not when Lord Domac wanted her, and she wanted him.
‘I will find you a good wife,’ she pressed.
‘I don’t want a wife,’ he repeated.
‘But you want me. Why?’
He sighed as he looked out at the ocean. ‘When I was young, I met a woman with a terrible life. We found happiness together despite that. At least for a time.’
‘Grace’s mother.’
He nodded, though his gaze was abstract. ‘I could not save her. I tried, but…’ He lifted up his cup and tipped it over. Two drops of tea splatted on the deck. ‘I did not have enough money to save her.’ He looked at her. ‘I have enough money now. So I went back to China. I paid the monks silver. Lots and lots of silver.’ He leaned forwards. ‘And so I saved you and Grace.’
‘But why? We are not her.’
He smiled. ‘Why? Because you came. Because I could. Why did the monks take care of you as a baby?’
‘So we would grow up to serve the temple.’ And they had. She’d even seen the silver that Lord Wenshire had given the monks. Thanks, he’d said, for bringing him his daughter.
‘And now you wonder what you owe me.’ He tilted his head. ‘Why has it taken you so long to ask me these questions?’
Because her command of English was not as good back then. And because she was afraid of being left behind. She was afraid of what he truly wanted, and she’d had no real desire of her own except to stay with Grace. But now she wanted Lord Domac. And to bargain for him required her to know what Lord Wenshirewanted so she could provide it. That’s how transactions were done.
‘Lucy, I could not save the woman I loved, but I could save you and Grace.’
‘To what end?’
He stroked his knuckles along her jaw. She allowed it because there was no lust in his eyes when he did it. It was a simple gesture of tenderness.
‘So that when I die and go to meet my maker, I can point to something good that I have done with my life. I can look at you and at Grace and know that I made a difference in your lives.’
As if to emphasise the point, the cough that often plagued him came back. It was a dry rattle, barely heard above the surrounding noise. He needed more tea. Something with healing leaves, but she did not have medical knowledge. That had been someone else at the temple. The most she had done was get him the right ingredients.
‘You have helped me,’ she said, her words earnest. ‘I shall always love you,’ she said, wondering if she lied. ‘But if I am to be a good daughter to you, then I should marry and give you grandchildren. Boys to play at your feet and girls to make you smile and bring you—’
‘Tea?’ he rasped.
She wasn’t sure if he was finishing her sentence or asking for her to fetch him more. ‘Would you like another drink?’ she asked.
‘Let’s go down below and make it together,’ he answered. ‘And get out of this beastly sun.’