My Fallen Angel (17 page)

“Lucy, you are absolutely, positively the most insane person it has ever been my misfortune to know,” Beth announced the next afternoon. The sun, which was beginning its descent into the horizon, cast a crimson glow over the ship, turning Beth’s blue dress a vivid shade of purple which suited her pale complexion to perfection.

Lucy shrugged, ignoring the comment. How could she explain to Beth, who had been so very verbal in her disapproval of her behavior, that she was terrified that once they hit dry land, Garrick would run in the other direction? He had barely acknowledged her presence since their time in his cabin. She wasn’t sure what she’d done to anger him so, but suddenly she was terrified that if she didn’t seize this chance to find out, she might never get another opportunity.

“I’m doing this, Beth. And you can’t stop me.”

Beth’s hopeful look faded. She nodded, then glanced around the deck furtively, as if searching for someone else to help convince her friend. But Lucy had taken great painsin timing the exact moment to strike. Currently, Garrick was engaged in holding the wheel; the only way he’d be able to see them was if he suddenly developed the power to see through wood, for he stood in a location not visible from where they were. The rest of the crew was engaged in their duties, the men far too busy sailing a ship twice the size of the
Swan,
with half the crew, to pay them much heed.

“You can’t stop me, Beth. He needs me. I know he does. What’s more I know he
wants
me.”

Beth colored. “I do not even want to know how you know that.”

“Practice.”

Beth held up her hands. “I don’t want to know, Lucy.”

“And the book,” Lucy added. “You should study the book, too. Might come in handy one day.”

“The only book I shall study is how to pick smarter friends.”

“And the next book I shall study is how to pick
supportive
friends.”

Beth placed her hands on her hips. Lucy tilted her nose in the air.

“You’re quite mad.”

“About Garrick, yes.”

“And what if he boots you out?”

“He won’t.”

“You hope.”

“I know.”

Beth released an exasperated sigh. Lucy ignored her, flicking her thick braid over her right shoulder andchecking to ensure the knot around the rail was tight. The wind might pose a bit of a problem, she thought, but she didn’t think it would jostle her around too much. Thank God the weather was fine, for she didn’t fancy lowering herself down the back of a ship in surging seas.

“And what if you fall?” Beth refused to give up.

Lucy shrugged again, making sure the rope around her waist was tight. “I won’t fall, Beth. And if I do, just tell Garrick to turn the ship around and fetch me.”

“Fat lot, that.”

Lucy looked up, and couldn’t help but smile.

Beth saw it and glowered. “What am I supposed to do?” She pretended to tap an invisible person. “Excuse me, Garrick?” she asked, pasting a prim look on her face. “Lucy fell into the ocean while trying to sneak into your cabin so she could seduce you.” She pointed with her thumb over the railing. “She’s the bobbing head with the shark fin next to it.”

Lucy snorted in laughter, then said, “Really, Beth. Don’t be melodramatic. I’ve scaled worse than this at boarding school.”

“Yes, but I hardly think this compares to sliding down a drainpipe!”

“Shhh. It won’t take but a minute. And all you need do is hand me that grappling hook so I can break the glass, then lower me my pails of water.”

Beth placed her hand against her forehead and closed her eyes. “If I were smart, what I would
do
is run to Garrick and tell him what you plan,” she mumbled.

“Who said you were smart?”

Beth’s eyes snapped open. “That does it! I’m leaving.”

“No, Beth, don’t.” Lucy grabbed her friend by the sleeve and nudged her back around. “I was only poking fun. You know I need your help. The door to Garrick’s cabin is locked. Not only that, but with the wheel so close, he’s sure to see me if I try to sneak in. Please, just lower me down so I can perch on the ledge. It should take me no more than two seconds to break the glass, then enter.”

“You’ll fall.”

“No, I won’t.”

Beth shook her head. “I do not believe this is happening. You want to throw propriety to the wind and seduce a man you’re not even married to. Good heavens, Lucy, have you lost your mind?”

“Propriety be damned,” Lucy spat. “You know I’ve never cared for it. Garrick is the man I love.”

Beth eyes had widened, but then the look in them softened. “Lucy, please. I beg you. We’ll be in London in two days. Try to soften his heart on dry land.”

“I may not get the chance on dry land, so I’m doing this now.” That said, she took a deep breath, peeked down at the sea below, then said a quick prayer that this would work.

The
Revenger
left a trail of foam in its wake. That trail seemed a long way down all of a sudden, Lucy thought. Wiping her sweaty palms on her breeches, Lucy turned back to her friend. “Remember, if anyone should ask, I’m helping Mousad prepare the evening meal.”

“And what exactly do you plan to do if you reach your destination alive?”

“If I told you, you’d blush scarlet.”

“I don’t suppose it has something to do with the water you’re heating on the stove … water you want me to lower and which could be used for a bath?”

Lucy nodded determinedly.

Beth eyed her as a rector would a doxy. “Hmm, yes. So I thought.” Her brows lowered into a frown. “Well, I won’t soil your ears with the word I’d like to call you.”

“Beth, I’ve got more important matters on my mind then being branded a harlot.”

“Well, it was nice knowing you. Harlot.”

Lucy bit back a smile and threw the excess rope at her feet over the side. It was a long line, one which dangled all the way to the sea below, the hemp skipping and bobbing in the wake of the
Revenger
like a kitestring. Lucy eyed it dubiously, then slowly and carefully climbed over the rail.

“Luuucy,
“ Beth moaned.

“It’s all right, Beth.” But she couldn’t stop her arms from shaking as she perched on the opposite side of the rail, her feet firmly planted between two posts. “Don’t look so frightened. If I fall, the rope around my waist should stop me before I hit the water.”

“Yes, but with your luck it will probably wrap around your neck in the process.”

“Beth, really,” Lucy admonished. She shook her head, already more nervous than she cared to admit, and the last thing she needed was Beth’s pessimistic attitude. Peeking down, she gauged the ledge she was aiming for to be only three feet or so below where she stood.

It was a simple plan, for the row of windows was rightbelow the deck. Unfortunately—as often was the case with one of her “plans”—climbing to the ledge beneath the windows looked much easier than it actually was. Hanging out over the back of the ship, her posterior bobbing up and down, the roar of the ocean nearly as loud as the roar in her ears, was one of the most terrifying experiences of her life. It didn’t help that Beth was peering down at her as if she were about to witness an execution, nor that the wind, as it swooped off the deck above her, kept blowing strands of hair in her eyes. It took every nerve she had—and some she didn’t know she had—to pry one white-knuckled hand off the rail, then grab the vertical post beneath it.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Lucy,” Beth moaned again as she slowly lowered herself.

“Be quiet, Beth. I’m concentrating.”

Pointing her booted foot toward the ocean, Lucy sank lower and lower. Her toes felt around for purchase as both hands clutched the rope.

By the time her feet finally found the ledge, she had to take a moment to calm herself, her breath labored as she hung off the back of the ship like a burr on a dog. Only when she felt sufficiently in charge of herself did she scrunch down a bit to peek through one of the windowpanes. The glass reflected her frightened and pale face before it dissolved into a perfect view of the cabin beyond.

Empty, thank God. She’d not known what she’d have done if she’d found Garrick staring back at her. Probably let go of the rail in fright.

She straightened, her arms already growing strained, her hands numb, she grasped the rope so tightly. Taking a deep breath, she examined the glass for the best way to break through it.

“Hand me the grappling hook,” she called up to Beth.

“Next,” Lucy called nearly a half hour later, almost her entire upper body hanging out the window as she waited for another bucket of steaming water to be lowered into her waiting hands.

“Lucy,” Beth cried, the thick rope pricking into her skin in a manner which left no doubt she would have blisters the next morning. “This is taking forever.”

“We’re almost done, Beth. But you must hurry. Garrick could enter at any moment.”

Beth stared over the rail, thanking God that barrels blocked Garrick’s view of what they were doing. The sun, just about to duck behind the horizon, plainly illuminated Lucy’s impatient glare. Beth’s own eyes narrowed in frustration. Lucy would pay for making her do this. Somehow, some way she’d make her pay for it all: setting them adrift, their capture by pirates, the dinner with Tully, and afterward, her time alone with that disreputable boor, Ravenwood. She wasn’t sure how she’d do it, but she would.

“Lady Beth, might I ask what you are doing?”

So engrossed was Beth in entertaining one notion after another on how to get even with Lucy, she didn’t hear Garrick’s approach until it was too late. She whirled around to face him at the same time she let goof the rope. The bucket of hot water she’d been lowering dropped into the sea.

“Ouch,” came a faint protest.

“I repeat, my lady.
What
are you doing?”

“Garrick,” Beth yelled, tilting her head toward the back of the ship. “Good heavens,
Garrick,
you startled me.” She placed her hand on her heart, her eyes wide with fear.

He merely stared down at her, his impatience clearly visible, the setting sun glinting off his gold hoop, suspicion clearly clouding the angled planes of his features. She glanced down at the buckets, all of which were empty, thankfully. When she looked back up at Garrick, he’d placed his hands on his hips.

“What, I repeat, are you doing?”

“Well, I’m … ahh, I’m …” Her eyes fixed on the grappling hook lying next to a bucket. “I’m …
I’m fishing!”

“Fishing?”

“Yes, fishing.”

He stared down at her for a moment, a very long moment, then he tipped his head, glaring down his aristocratic nose like a papa questioning an errant child “How?”

“Ahh … ahh … how?” Beth stalled. That was a very good question.

“Yes, how?”

Her eyes caught on the empty pales. “Buckets! I’m using buckets.”

The suspicion in his eyes grew. He crossed his arms in front of him, the look on his face indicating that she better be telling the truth or it would go badly for her later.

For a moment Beth considered telling him everything. Oh, how she wanted to tell him everything, but she knew if she did, Lucy would disown her as a friend. Not that that would be a
bad
thing.

When the silence stretched on, Garrick apparently lost patience, for he uncrossed his arms then stomped over to the rail. Closing her eyes, Beth sent up a silent prayer that Lucy didn’t have her head hanging out the window. A few seconds later she gained the courage to open one eye, the other snapping open when she spied Garrick pulling on the rope thrown over the rail. She watched with her heart beating furiously in her chest as he peered over the rail, then turned back to face her.

“There really is a bucket attached.”

She pasted a look of absolute and utter innocence on her face. “Mm-hmm.”

“But what are all these extras for?”

“For, er, ahh … they’re for the fish I’d hoped to catch. For storage.”

Garrick’s eyes lit with something. Humor? “We do have fishing poles.”

“Yes, but Lucy said they’re terribly hard to use.”

She thought she saw something flash in his eyes. Amusement? Whatever it was, it was gone before she could decipher it.

“If you’d rather I use a pole, I can certainly—”

“No, no.” He held up his hands. “I believe this method is much safer.”

Beth nodded, sweat beginning to bead her forehead. She peeked another glance over the rail.

He shook his head. “Although I don’t think I’ve ever heard of this technique before.”

“I confess, neither have I,” Beth muttered.

He ran his fingers through his hair, his expression suddenly growing dire. It was a moment before he spoke again. “Have you seen Lucy?”

“I, well, I think she might have gone below.”

“Below?”

“Yes. She, ahh, mentioned wanting to gather some items for dinner tonight.”

“I thought Mousad was cooking.”

“I … He is. She offered to help.”

His expression darkened, the setting sun catching the planes and angles of his face perfectly. “If you see her, tell I’m looking for her.”

Beth nodded, then watched as he turned and walked away, wondering what was happening between her friend and Garrick.