His Secret Heroine (6 page)

"But if
the
Lynx
was so fast, how was she captured?"

"I heard she was becalmed. And being out-gunned, she was forced to surrender."
He glanced back to check the horizon. Nothing had changed.

"I think something worries you."

He'd hoped she hadn't noticed. But surely nothing would go wrong. He saw nothing. Reggie stowed his unease. "A stiff wind carries the ship far," he replied. "But it can also portend a coming storm. A good seaman should always be watchful."

"Is there a storm coming then, Lord Reginald?"

Concern mingled with trust played out in her light green eyes. He prayed it was not misplaced. "Watch the birds, Miss Englefield. They will tell us more than we can see for ourselves."

"How?"

"When they head for shore, we should do the same. If it worries you, we can go back now."

"No. I am sure you will manage things."

Reggie watched the skies for more than just the gulls. The bright day was full of great summer puffs idling high in the heavens. No dark roll clouds on the horizon. The worst storms came from seaward, and as long as the wind didn't shift, anything out there would not come in their direction. But there was a sense of the air, like an aroma. Something was out there.

Reggie leaned against the gunwale, the sea breeze against his face. The hours passed as he spun
sea tales, of smuggling runs and buried kegs on a sandy beach, of battles, boardings, and daring escapes into cloudbanks.

The river widened, with the flat fens spread out on both sides.
On the far shore, Reggie pointed out the docks of Gravesend. "Do you want to go ashore, or shall we return?"

Wildness sparkled in her eyes as she shook her head, and she pointed out to the choppy salt water of the Channel. "I've never been
to sea, Lord Reginald. Might we just take a short excursion? The
Xanthe
can go to sea, can she not?"

"She's seaworthy." Still, he thought the waves a bit grey. The tall billows of clouds gathered heavier, raising their tops higher. He wet a finger to test the wind, noting a slight shift to the southwest.

Reggie signaled MacDevie to take the craft farther out toward the Channel. A trace of a frown crossed MacDevie's face as the
Xanthe
tacked to starboard, cutting across the choppy waves. But if MacDevie had any fears, he would have said something.

Miss
Hawarth lurched with the roll of the craft, and her game smile stretched thin as she clutched the shrouds. Reggie cursed himself silently for not thinking of her sensibilities.

"Perhaps we should return," he suggested.

"No, please," said Miss Hawarth. "I have not been to sea either, Lord Reginald."

Reggie swallowed down his concern for her and let the
ketch continue.. "The worst is over. I don't think we shall go much farther, though. We could probably fight the wind and take the entire day to reach the Channel, and the bar is likely to be very choppy today."

As her
topsail unfurled, the
Xanthe
dashed across the brilliantly sparkling water in the wide mouth of the Thames. Standing at the bow, Miss Englefield's curls danced in the wind like gypsies. Yes. She really was Circe, in her heart. He would marry her, and they would sail the Seven Seas together.

He glanced back at Miss
Hawarth. Merriment glittered in her eyes as if she read his thoughts and dreamed of just that very thing for her niece. Perhaps a duke's younger son was acceptable if he had an adequate competence from a doting grandfather. But what would she think if she learned the duke might play his son false if he married against his parent's wishes? He would eventually gain what was rightfully his, but he dared not let either of the ladies know the true nature of things yet.

Although they were still within the mouth of the great river
, he could see a haze hanging in the distance, marking the landmass of the Continent. "There," he said, "on a clear day, sometimes you can see the coast of France."

The ladies frowned as if they didn't quite believe it.

"Is this not a clear day? Does it always look like this?" Miss Englefield asked.

"Sometimes it is much clearer. To
starboard, Miss Englefield, there's a frigate, probably carrying messages up and down the line."

"Could the
Xanthe
catch her?"

"Most likely not,
especially since we come at her at an angle, and the wind favors the frigate. But
Xanthe
can outsail a ship of the line."

Her green eyes danced with anticipation.

He chuckled. "No, Miss Englefield, one does not challenge a ship going about the duties of war."

"No, of course not," she said, and her pleasant smile faded slightly. "It is nice to know, though."

The urge to wrap an arm about her rippled through him, and he gripped the gunwale until it passed. "Perhaps another day we shall enjoy a race," he said. "But for now, let us just enjoy the sea."

"But the birds are coming ashore, Lord Reginald." Miss
Englefield pointed to the seaward horizon.

Not only birds. On the horizon
, almost hidden by the closer bright, tall cumulus clouds, lay a thin black roll cloud.

"Squall, sir," said MacDevie.

"Let's take her back, MacDevie."

"Aye, sir."

As they came to larboard, the wind whipped around, shearing across his right cheek instead of his left. They'd run with the wind, but they wouldn't miss the storm. The crew scurried up the ratlines. Squealing yardarms and creaking shrouds vied with rising wind as the
Xanthe
came about to larboard and picked up speed, lurching over suddenly choppy seas. He could make out Sheerness. Perhaps they could make port there.

"Sir," said MacDevie, pointing to stern.

The storm was moving in fast. Deep troughs were forming in the river's mouth ahead of them.

"Bring her about, steady, Mr. MacDevie."

"Aye, sir."

With masterful precision, MacDevie eased the
Xanthe
across the chop of tall caps, neither too fast nor too slow. His calm voice boomed out above the growing wail of wind, calling for topsails furled, mainsail and foresail shortened.

Seaward, the sky was black. Shoreward, still hazy blue. In the distance against dark clouds, the
lights of Sheerness came on, and twinkled like dim stars, too far to make before the storm hit full force.

The ladies hugged their pelisses in the chill wind.

"You'll be more comfortable belowdeck, ladies."

Miss
Hawarth nodded, looking to her companion, who shook her head. Hand over hand, the elder lady followed the gunwale to the ladder way, steadying herself between the
Xanthe's
pitching, and descended to the cabin.

The first drops of rain hit like rocks, and in seconds became a deluge, whipped by vicious wind. Choppy waves pitched the
Xanthe
bow to stern as it drove up and over, dropped down, rose again. Miss Englefield dove for the ratlines.

It was going to get worse. Very soon. "
You should follow your aunt belowdeck now, Miss Englefield."

Her brave smile soured as she gripped the ratlines. "I'm sure I can manage
."

"Belowdeck, Miss
Englefield! Now!"

She jerked back. "Yes, sir." Sidling a wild glance at the menacing sea, Miss
Englefield clung to the gunwale with the tenacity of a squid, then lunged toward the ladder way. The deck pitched. She smashed against the cabin wall and bounced to the deck as a wall of water swept over the gunwale and slammed green water all the way to the cabin. As she slid, Reggie dove after her, one hand snatching her flying hair and the other snagging a lifeline. Her mouth opened in a scream drowned out by the howling wind, and both legs dangled beyond the gunwale, over the starboard side.

Chapter Four

With an arm hooked over the lifeline, Reggie grabbed her wrist and tugged her toward him as he braced himself flat against the gunwale. Green water washed over them in stinging cold fury. Gripping her wrists so fiercely he feared breaking them, he waited out the power of the wave until Russell could dash in. Russell grabbed a handful of the lady's pelisse, then before Reggie could see how he did it, lashed a line about her. Again a wave swamped the deck, tossing Russell's feet as he grappled his line, and the receding, foaming tongue pulled them toward the gunwale. The deck slid beneath Reggie's feet, and he clung to the lines until the water seeped away. Miss Englefield hung at the brink, half suspended above the licking sea. They hauled her back aboard.

Gasping for breath and sanity, Reggie stood the lady on her feet, swept her up into his arms and rushed to the cabin before another wave could sweep over the deck. The fourth wave hit just as he reached the cabin, and he latched onto the ladder, pressing the lady's body against the ladder with his own until the wave passed. Then he
helped her belowdeck, threw open the cabin door and dashed inside.

By the light of swinging lanterns, the elder lady gasped, but Reggie paid no heed as he yanked off Miss
Englefield's sodden pelisse. She swayed a little and coughed. Any restraint Reggie had against his wayward impulses failed him as he sat on his bunk, wrapped his arms around her shivering body and folded her onto his lap, his heart still thrumming from the terror of the moments past.

Be damned whether the aunt liked it or not.

Miss Englefield burrowed her head into his shoulder and the chilled hand that slipped around to his back felt like fire through his sodden coat. He wanted to just hold her in his arms, cradling her, comforting her.

"Oh, my dear, are you all right?" said Miss
Hawarth as she fought the lurching of the boat to cross the cabin and sit beside them.

"Yes,
Aunt, quite," said Miss Englefield in a quavering voice. But she made no attempt to move.

Yes, she would be all right, and practicality had to intervene. He smoothed a gentling hand over her wet hair. "Miss
Hawarth, I must entrust your niece to your care. Strip her down and wrap her in blankets. You'll find toiletries and sundries about, and some clothing, although I fear it is all rather large. But I must leave you to manage without the lantern for awhile. Danger of fire when the seas are too high."

"Certainly, Lord Reginald," said Miss
Hawarth. "It is quite nasty out there, then?"

"Quite nasty
. But have no fear, it will soon pass. Just a bit of a squall. But I am needed on deck." Reluctantly, he sighed and rose, to set Miss Englefield down onto the bunk alone.

"Very well, Lord Reginald," Miss
Hawarth replied as he shut the door behind him.

His heart still beat like a frenetic drum roll. Dear God, he'd almost lost her! He'd never come so close to losing someone. He'd rather have died himself.

Russell hung about the ladder way, waiting.

"Thank you, Russell," he said to the sailor. Russell's reply, if there was one, was lost in the storm as he turned back to his tasks.

Aloft, the crew still fought the fierce wind to furl the mainsail and foresail, and Reggie climbed to help. The pull of the waves tugged the little craft alongside the trough as the fierce wind buffeted the yard, and MacDevie called for the top sails set aback and hove to, balanced against the rudder. MacDevie fought the wheel to keep her astride the crests, while the crew adjusted the remaining sails. With her deep keel and well-balanced hull, the
Xanthe
was unlikely to capsize, but she bobbed up and down so high, yet she felt like she might flip bow over stern in spite of their efforts. At the least, he could expect the women in his cabin to be violently ill.

But like most squalls,
it soon passed, winds dropping to a scream. Rain fell, instead of lashing at a sharp angle, and the heavy seas diminished to tall waves, finally behind a dull drizzle, until even that faded and dried. The
Xanthe
rocked and tossed more gently in the darkness. It had been an unusual storm, from a completely unexpected direction. Still, he should have followed his instincts. If only he had not been so keen to show off himself and his ketch to the ladies. What a fool he had been!

Reggie wondered where in the devil's name they were, although he figured MacDevie knew. If the storm had not changed direction, they surely had been blown to northwest, yet that would surely have blown them aground on the river's north shore.

"Bearings, Mr. MacDevie?" he called.

"I make us to be a bit north, still within the mouth," said MacDevie. "
Blown upriver, more than anything. Tide changing soon, sir, within the hour. We couldn't ask for better, considering."

The storm cleared the coast, and Reggie saw what MacDevie in his great sense of the sea, knew in his heart, the
north shore of the great Thames, a low, gray, flat line against the dark clouds that had passed beyond it.