“I am fine,” she murmured, twisting to seek out his eyes. “But my husband might come after me. Robert, I would not have him come upon you.…”
“Is his temper so bad then?”
“He would slay a pirate, surely.”
“But you would defend me?”
“I would, for you were always kind.”
“And tell me, milady, what of the Hawk himself? Would your husband seek to slay him, or await a hanging?”
She started to shiver again. She could not imagine the Silver Hawk and Lord Cameron coming together. One of them would die, and she would not be able to endure the outcome of it.
“Hurry, Robert! Race the night, for we must get the Hawk and leave Virginia. We must!”
“We!”
“Yes! My father—”
“I know about your father, milady. But there will be no ‘we.’ I’ll talk to the Hawk with you on your behalf, and I know that he will set sail. But he will not take you. You will go home.”
She would not go home. She could not go home, not now. But she didn’t tell Robert that—it was something she would have to worry about later.
Robert turned his mount eastward toward the river, nudging the animal’s ribs, and sweeping them into a fast lope once again. She liked Robert so much! Skye thought. She felt warm with him, and assured that he would carry her to the Hawk.
Even if he had stolen her emerald!
It was all right. It was all right to race with him through the night, leaning low against the flying mane of his bay horse, feeling the wind and the gentle wash of the glowing moon upon her. It would be all right.…
“There! We’re coming up on the Blackhorse now!” Robert said, reining in. “Stay with me, milady, do you understand?”
Skye nodded. She was glad of his presence, for she did not like the appearance of the tavern.
It stood just off the waterway and the docks, a rickety place with broken windowpanes and faulty steps. Dim, misty light issued from the open doorway and windows, and raucous laughter could be heard.
Robert dismounted from the horse, reaching up to help her down. Skye drew the hood of her navy mantle close over her forehead and slipped her hand through his arm as he led her toward the doorway.
It was not a place for a lady.
It was a complete den of iniquity, she thought, and her heart hammered somewhat as she thought of the Hawk. How dare he come here when she might need him! It was not a place where any decent woman would want to be.
“Milady?” Robert said to her, watching her curiously.
“Shall we?” she murmured.
He helped her up the rickety steps and through the open front doorway, and there they paused.
The main rooms were heavy with smoke and they stank of ale. Even the standing room by the bar was crowded, and all manner of men—and women—were there. The smell of humanity was terrible here. The men were old and young, but all of them had a look of dust and dirt about them; they were neither clean shaven, nor did they seem to have a decent beard among them. One fellow at the bar wore an eye patch and a white queued wig, but his wig was askew and his brawny shoulders seemed about to split the shoulders of his elegant mustard frockcoat. A stolen coat, no doubt, Skye thought.
Nearby at one of the tables a group of seamen in linen shirts and caps frolicked with a single, buxom, dark-haired wench. One fellow slipped his hand straight into her bodice while she kissed another, then laughed uproariously. She bit into the coins handed to her by the both of them, then laughed, and kissed them each, in turn.
Robert cleared his throat.
“The Silver Hawk is here?” she said.
“Aye, milady. He is a pirate, you know.”
She thought that Robert’s eyes were twinkling. “A pirate, a rogue, and he’ll hang!” she agreed. She cried out as one of the men from the rough wood table rose, grinned a drunken grin, and lunged toward her. Robert stepped forward and his fist shot out and the man fell flat to the floor. “She’s come to see the Hawk!” he warned the others. “Make way—she’s here for the Hawk!”
