This was his promise, his guarantee. If she wanted him, he was hers. Henrietta knew it with every fibre of her being.
When they finally parted, she slid her hand down to his shoulder and rested her forehead against his chest until abruptly the world came back as the ship’s bell began ringing again. This time it finally stopped at eight as one of the ship’s boys called out, ‘Eight bells of the first watch, and all’s well.’ As a seafarer’s daughter, Henrietta realised it must be midnight - the beginning of the middle watch - and pulled back with a sigh.
‘Well, at least we can be thankful no one’s gone overboard yet,’ Raphael murmured drily. He pressed a kiss to her forehead as he rose to his feet. ‘You should rest, Miss Carew. I doubt very muchthat things will remain as peaceful once the sun comes up. We will all need to be on our guard.’
Henrietta gave a sigh as she stood up. ‘I really think under the circumstances you should call me by my given name,’ she announced, straightening her skirt. ‘At least when we’re alone, anyway.’
Ignoring the noise from the change in watch, Raphael gave her a rueful smile. ‘I doubt we will have another opportunity to hide away like this before we reach land, so I will bid you goodnight…Henrietta.’ He gave a small bow before adding softly, ‘Sleep well, chérie.’ The endearment coupled with the intimate way he pronounced her name completely stole her breath as he turned abruptly and stepped through to the forward deck.
Heart pumping wildly, she watched as he paused to converse with one of the sailors who’d just come up on watch. Away from the darkness of the sails, the moon bathed the two men in an almost otherworldly light, and just as Henri was about to return to her cabin, the deckhand nodded at something Raphael said and turned towards her.
It was the man she’d seen sitting in the garden at Redstone House.
‘Thunder an’ turf, who forget to mention the simple deuced fact that we’d be sleeping inhammocks?’ Reverend Shackleford’s appalled whisper echoed throughout the lower deck, earning him a chorus of abuse from the sailors who’d just finished their watch.
‘Oh, ah dinnae ken, ah reckon it be cosh,’ Finn retorted, pulling off his boots. ‘Ye cannae sleep on the floor, Revren.’ Without further ado, the boy jumped onto the hammock and nimbly flipped onto his back, quickly joined by Flossy. Reverend Shackleford watched in horror. Every movement the boy had made could potentially see an old man like him on the floor with a broken leg or worse.
He looked over at the few proper beds situated around the edge of the deck. One of them was occupied by Percy, who looked as though he’d already done his time in Davy Jones’ Locker. The only positive in the whole deuced bag of moonshine was that Dougal couldn’t get into his bed either.
‘But it’s midnight,’ the Reverend moaned. ‘I’d have started getting ready for bed before dinner if I’d known. At this rate, it’s going to take me the rest of the night to climb into the deuced thing.’
‘Ah cannae argue wi’ ye there,’ Dougal declared, eyeing the hammock with the enthusiasm he’d normally reserve for Sassenachs and God botherers – in that order. ‘Dae ye reckon there be a knack tae it?’
‘Jus’ hold the side’s an’ climb on,’ Finn advised, pulling his blanket up to his chin to tuck Flossy in. ‘But ye better goan wi’ it, else ye’ll be countin’ yer toes come mornin’.’
‘Dinnae fash yersel’ Augustus, ah hae an idea,’ the Scot announced suddenly. ‘Hoo aboot ye hold ma hammock still, an’ ah’ll climb up. Then soon as ah be in it, ah’ll hold yours still, an ye can dae the same.’
With an aggrieved sigh, the Reverend pushed his own hammock aside and took hold of Dougal’s.
Naturally, by this time the sailors surrounding them had given up trying to sleep and were watching the proceedings with obvious enjoyment. There was even a spur-of-the-moment wager going on.
‘Noo then…’ the Scot declared, spitting on each hand and rubbing them on his breeches for luck.
‘Gie it laldy,’ Finn whispered enthusiastically, just as Dougal launched himself forward, yelling, ‘Scoootland,’ much in the same way as he’d always imagined his ancestors had done at Culloden. Unfortunately, his landing wasn’t quiteBonnie Prince Charlie, and as he crashed sideways onto the hammock, it swung out wildly before somersaulting him straight onto the deck.
Instinctively, the Reverend ducked as the now empty hammock swung back towards him. ‘Tare an’ hounds, that was a close one,’ he muttered, just as the rope holding the hammock began to unravel, dumping the entire bed directly on top of Dougal’s prone form, eliciting a muffled groan from beneath the canvas, as well as an impromptu round of applause from the watching crew.
Thirteen
Fortunately, Rosie didn’t wake as Henrietta climbed into the bed after escaping the foredeck without being spotted. Pulling the blanket up to her chin, Henri lay staring into the dark, her mind immediately revisiting her earlier misgivings. Naturally, the most significant was whether Raphael was already acquainted with the sailor - and if he was, how did they know one another?
Henrietta took a deep breath. She was entirely jumping to conclusions. Putting her feelings aside, Raphael Augustin had given no cause for her to think he might be playing both sides. A brief conversation with a member of the crew did not make him a traitor, and in truth, he’d shown no concern that she might be watching. Surely if he’d been involved in something illicit, he would have at least tried to do it out of her sight?
Gradually, she felt her heart rate begin to slow down. The next couple of days would be difficult enough without her fertile imagination making it worse.
Raphael had vowed to ensure Tristan reached Montclair alive and well to claim his inheritance.
She had to trust that the man she was rapidly falling in love with would deliver on his promise.
The next morning the wind had lessoned, though happily it hadn’t changed direction. Roseanna and Percy were fortunately both feeling much better and had even managed to swallow some toast. Unfortunately, aside from that, breakfast was a dismal affair with everyone on edge. Indeed, Tristan was the only one remotely cheerful, which, given that he was the intended victim, simply made everyone else feel worse.
In the end, it was decided that Tristan would go up on deck every half an hour surrounded by a selected set of three people – one woman and two men. Naturally, they had to vary it to avoid giving the game away – though the Reverend argued that no man was so popular that everyone on the deuced ship wanted to spend time with him.
In the firstperambulation,he would be directly accompanied by Roan, Gabriel and Faith. However, when Tristan reasoned that having both Roan and Gabe with him definitely looked suspicious, they substituted the Viscount for Dougal. Tristan’s look of alarm was accompanied by a muttered comment that was unrepeatable in front of ladies…
The rest of them would be scattered around the ship, endeavouring to look as nonchalant as possible – though it didn’t help that Percy’s idea of nonchalance was to attach Finn to him with a rope, much to the boy’s disgust.
Indeed, the whole thing was in grave danger of turning into a farce as Dougal loudly pronounced the deck free o' any shadycharacters after bravely declaring himself willing to be thesacrificial anode– a term he’d heard one of the sailors use the day before. While he wasn’t entirely certain what an anode was exactly, he thought the phrase had a nice ring to it.
