Smuggler's Kiss (3 page)

We stared at one another, and for a moment he looked so thunderous, I thought he was going to slap me. But instead he turned me roughly away from him and began unfastening my gown.

‘This is the one and only time I’ll be your lady’s maid, you spoiled brat,’ he snapped. As soon as the hooks were unfastened, he went to the door. Pausing there, he spoke once more: ‘Get dried and changed and be quick about it, for I’ll be back in a few moments to see you’ve obeyed me.’

‘I can’t!’ I sobbed. ‘My fingers … so numb … they won’t … work!’

He stood there, staring at me with a heavy frown. At last, with a sigh of exasperation, he returned to my side. ‘There’s no woman on board,’ he told me, ‘and the men are all busy. You’ll have to make do with me.’

As he spoke, he hauled me to my feet where I swayed dizzily. ‘You can’t … ’ I muttered, with a half-hearted attempt to push him away. ‘Not decent.’

‘Do you care most about decency or survival?’ he demanded. I gave up. I had no strength to fight him in any case. He peeled the wet fabric away from my chilled body and dropped it on the floor of the cabin. The lace petticoats followed, layer by soggy layer. When he reached the hoop he gave an impatient exclamation. ‘What is this?’ he demanded.

‘My hoop?’ I asked groggily.

‘Good Lord. How the devil do you take it off?’

I fumbled numbly at the buckles and tapes. My fingers were so chilled and unresponsive to my commands that he soon pushed my hands aside and took over the task. I stood before him in my shift, and numb as I was, unreal as all this felt, I blushed deeply. ‘Don’t … ’ I murmured, ashamed, wrapping my arms around myself, anxious lest he intended to remove this last protective layer.

‘I have no intention of stripping you naked,’ he said mockingly. ‘Trust me; it would be no pleasure at all.’ He picked up the blanket Jacob had laid out and threw it around my shoulders, rubbing my arms through it so that the coarse wool chafed my skin.

‘That hurts,’ I protested.

‘That’s because the blood’s beginning to circulate again,’ he told me. ‘I’m going to turn away now. Can you strip off that wet shift by yourself and put on these clothes instead?’

I nodded miserably and as he turned his back, I struggled to do as he said with clumsy hands. The shirt was rough, but clean and dry. It reached to my knees. I wrapped the blanket over the top. ‘I’m done,’ I said at last. My voice was very faint.

‘What about the breeches?’ the man asked, seeing them still lying on the bunk.

‘They are for men.’

‘Of course they are. What did you expect? Only men sail on this ship.’

‘I didn’t ask to be here,’ I retorted weakly.

‘Are you saying you wanted to be left to drown? That’s what would have happened.’

I turned my face away and felt a hot tear steal down my cheek. My former misery overwhelmed me again. Very slowly I nodded.

‘You should be ashamed of yourself,’ he told me fiercely. ‘People bear far greater troubles than you and don’t give up.’

‘You know nothing of my troubles,’ I told him disdainfully. I was starting to feel stronger.

In reply, the man held the breeches up before me. ‘Put your legs in here, and then hold them up to your hips, pull this flap between your legs to the waistband and button them
here
in front and
here
at the side. Do you understand?’

I looked away, colouring painfully with embarrassment.

‘I’m going to find you some stockings. I knew you’d be work and trouble! They should never have brought you on board.’

He left the cabin, banging the door. Reluctantly, I buttoned the breeches on, fumbling with the unfamiliar fastenings. Even alone as I was, I blushed furiously at the indecency of putting on a man’s garment. One that had been worn before, what’s more. No girl should be called on to do such a thing. Once so scandalously clothed, I sat down on the lower bunk, my legs too weak to bear my weight for long.

When the man returned, he had woollen stockings in his hand. He knelt beside me and rolled them onto my legs. ‘What’s your name?’ I asked him.

‘I’m Nick to you,’ he replied brusquely. ‘The less you know, the better for us.’ He fastened the first stocking below the knee with a garter. Gentlemen wore silk and fastened them above the knee. I felt insulted at being dressed as a working man, but didn’t dare say so. The fabric was rough and scratchy, but I didn’t dare complain about that either.

‘You’re rude and unpleasant,’ I told him instead. ‘What have I done? I didn’t ask to be brought here.’

‘I’m helping you, aren’t I?’ was the only answer I got. ‘There you are, your
lady
ship,’ he said with withering sarcasm as he tied the second garter. I turned my face away and bit my lip. Tears were close to the surface again, but they didn’t cause my tormentor to relent. He simply got up and left.

I curled up in a ball on the rough bunk, wrapping the coarse blanket around me. My throat was aching from the salt water and my eyes were stinging. I felt lonelier and more miserable than ever in my life before and heartily wished I’d drowned.

The next thing I knew, my head was being lifted and a soft pillow slipped under it. I couldn’t open my eyes properly, but saw a blurred glimpse of Gentle Jacob through my lashes, his face no longer blackened. A heavy, warm cover was laid over me and the world darkened.

I dreamed of a door in a dark corridor. Something hideous was concealed behind it. As it began to slowly swing open, I ran forward, heart beating with dread, and slammed it shut again. At once, I awoke to find bright sunlight in my face. I shielded my eyes with one hand, and made out three dark shapes standing looking down at me. I sat up groggily and yawned. Every part of me ached.

‘Where am I?’ I muttered, rubbing my eyes.

‘Halfway to France,’ was the reply.

‘
What?
’ I demanded, thunderstruck. The events of the day before came rushing back to me: the near drowning and the men on the ship. ‘But I don’t want to go to France!’

‘Got somewhere important you need to be?’ demanded the fair young man. When I was silent he added: ‘You don’t have any say in the matter,’ in a satisfied voice.

‘Leave be, Will,’ chided Gentle Jacob. ‘There’s no call for hard words.’ He was leaning his massive shoulders against the door frame, watching me.

So the young man’s name was Will. I glanced at him and saw him scowling at Jacob. ‘Nick,’ he said crossly. ‘Or better still, no names at all.’

‘What does it matter?’ I asked, puzzled.

The skipper leaned back against the wall, his eyes on me. ‘We need to get a few things straight,’ he said. ‘First things first. Who are you and what were you doing in the sea last night?’

‘I’m … ’ I remembered my dream, and shame and pain choked my words in my throat before I could utter them. Did I want these men to know my story? They would no doubt consider it their duty to hand me back. I was desperate to avoid being sent back to the situation I’d fled. I sat silently, my sleep-drenched mind battling to think straight and to come up with a tale that would make them help me.

‘Yes?’ prompted the skipper. All three men were watching me. All looked interested, but only Jacob looked kindly.

‘My name is Isabelle,’ I said. I turned away, unable to tell them the truth.

‘And?’ asked the skipper.

‘I’m an orphan,’ I said after a long pause. ‘So lonely and unhappy that I no longer wanted to live.’

Jacob looked sympathetic, the skipper frowned, and Will rolled his eyes. I glared at him and he shook his head, a scornful sneer curling his lips.

‘Where are you from?’ asked the skipper. ‘I know most people living along this coast.’

‘I’m not from around here. And I’m of age,’ I said.

Will snorted disbelievingly. ‘Twenty-one?’ he demanded. ‘You liar!’

The blood rushed to my face. I knew I looked older than I really was, but clearly not six years older. ‘It’s the truth,’ I tried to insist.

‘That gown you were wearing last night,’ said Will. ‘It looks costly enough to be a bride gown. Am I right?’

I shook my head, vehemently, my lips tightly pressed together. I saw Will look down at my left hand. I experienced a moment’s panic and looked down at it myself, ready to whip it out of sight. But the fingers were bare.

‘You’ve run away, then? Did you leave a note with anyone, saying what you planned to do?’ the skipper asked.

‘I … no … ’

‘Any sign of where you’d gone?’

I cast my mind back, wondering where his questions were going. ‘I don’t think so,’ I said.

‘Your shoes?’ asked Will. ‘What did you do with your shoes?’

‘I … must have left them lying on the beach.’

The three exchanged glances. ‘There won’t be any hue and cry,’ said the skipper. ‘They’ll assume she’s drowned.’

‘Aye,’ agreed Jacob with a slow nod. ‘It’s likely safe enough.’

‘But she’s some rich man’s daughter!’ exclaimed Will. ‘Just look at the clothing she was wearing. It cost more than most people earn in a lifetime. There’ll be a hue and cry, trust me.’

‘Not if they think she drowned. No point.’

There was a long silence. I wondered if they were planning to drop me over the side out at sea if there was no one to miss me. Fear caught at my throat. In the bright light of day, dying was no longer an attractive proposition. I wanted to live. I was just opening my mouth to tell the truth, when the skipper spoke again.

‘We got a problem, see,’ he said. ‘It isn’t so easy just to let you go.’ He turned and looked around at the other two. ‘What we going to do with her?’

There was a hideous silence, during which I started to feel sick. ‘She’ll not harm us,’ said Jacob.

‘You don’t know that,’ said Will swiftly. ‘We can’t possibly trust her. She’s already lying to us. Can’t you tell? How do we know she won’t turn King’s Evidence the moment her feet are on shore?’

‘King’s Evidence?’ I asked swiftly. ‘You’re doing something contrary to the law?’ Will sent me a fierce look and the skipper scowled. My suspicions were confirmed. I considered the possibilities and my eyes widened with surprise. Admittedly my knowledge of the sea was limited, but there were only two possibilities that I knew of: privateering without a licence or smuggling. And given the sneaking around in the dark, last night … I caught my breath as everything I’d seen so far clicked into place. ‘You’re
smugglers
?’

It all made perfect sense. I’d heard of smuggling, of course. Everyone had. Not having lived on the coast, I knew almost nothing of the way smugglers worked. But I could guess enough to make sense of barrels being unloaded at the dead of night. I also knew that I was in far greater danger than I’d realized. Smugglers were cut-throat rascals who defrauded the king of his revenues. They were a desperate lot, by all accounts, and thought nothing of violence and murder.

‘That ain’t what we call ourselves.’ Gentle Jacob’s voice rumbled deep in his chest. ‘We’re Gentlemen o’ the Night.’

‘I prefer free-traders,’ replied the skipper.

‘For God’s sake!’ The words burst angrily from Will. ‘Stop confiding in her! She’ll be our undoing!’ His fists were clenched tightly at his sides.

‘She knows it anyways, Will,’ sighed the skipper. He shook his head reproachfully at me. ‘Wisdom, my girl, is learning when to speak out and when to keep quiet.’

There was a knock at the cabin door. The skipper went to answer it. After a low-voiced exchange, he returned to us.

‘The men want their say,’ he said. He looked back at me, unease in his face. ‘This ain’t the Royal Navy,’ he said. ‘On board this ship, every man is equal and we all have a say in decisions that affect us.’

‘Every man,’ I said. ‘What about a woman?’

‘That will depend on the vote. ’Tis a pity. I can see ways you could be useful to us.’ He looked at me, frowning, for a moment and then pulled a scarf from his jacket. ‘You’ll have to be blindfold until the vote is taken,’ he said.

I submitted and then was led out of the cabin. My legs shook.

I could smell the fresh air and feel the warm sun on me, but could see nothing at all. It was disconcerting.

‘Listen to me now, my friends,’ the skipper began. ‘We have a grave matter on our hands. As you know, Jacob and Kit was moved by impulse last night to rescue a mermaid.’

There were chuckles as he said this, but they swiftly died.

‘I’ll say nothing of the rights and wrongs of what they done. We all has moments when the Lord moves us to mercy and maybe it’s right we should listen to those.’

‘Aye, but this girl here could compromise all of us!’ exclaimed a voice. ‘We got our safety to consider.’

Every story I’d ever heard about ruthless smugglers crowded into my mind. They would cheerfully kill me to keep my mouth shut, I knew. Will would, I felt sure; he seemed to positively hate me. All my dependence was on Gentle Jacob living up to his name and speaking for me. Or perhaps the skipper, who thought I might be useful. How could I be useful to a smuggler gang? I dreaded to imagine what he might be thinking of.

‘The case is this,’ said a new voice. ‘She knows what we does. She’s seen some of us and our ship. She’s a witness. We’re all men who depend on secrecy for our work.’