She was a larger ship than theSilver Hawk, Skye thought. She seemed to carry fourteen guns, with a narrow and high-rising hull. She would be a fleet ship; if not quite so swift as the pirate ship, she was more heavily armed and could probably fight well upon the open sea. Lord Cameron was a merchant, she knew. His fields were filled with tobacco and cotton and corn, and his ships endlessly plied the routes between the mother country and the New World. He armed himself very well against pirates, she thought. And yet her father had thought that he had done the same, and still theSilver Messengerhad been taken.
“There he is!” Robert said suddenly.
Skye’s heart slammed hard against her chest and her breath seemed to catch within her throat. Her palms were damp. She was not afraid of Lord Cameron! she assured herself. But she was nervous about this first meeting. She did not yet know what she meant to say or do, or how she would manage her life from now on. Thoughts of this meeting had been difficult enough before she had come to know the Silver Hawk; now it seemed a travesty.
“Where?” she murmured uneasily.
“There,” Robert said. “At the helm. He speaks with Mr. Morley, his quartermaster, and Mr. Niven, his first mate.”
“He captains his own ship?”
“Always, milady, if he is aboard.”
She could see only his back and his form, and nothing of his face. He was dressed in a fine fawn-colored brocade coat and soft brown knee breeches. His shirt was white beneath his waistcoat, laced and frilled, spilling from his cuffs and neck. He wore a cockaded hat with eagle plumes above a full powdered wig. He was a tall man, and seemed able.
“Milady?” Robert said.
She realized that she stood there, upon the plank. Robert took her hand and led her forward and helped her to leap down to the deck.
“Milord! Milord Cameron!” Robert cried.
The man paused, passing his ledger to the mate on his left. Robert urged Skye along, bringing her up the four steps to the high-rising helm. She stared downward, carefully holding her skirt lest she trip upon the stair.
“Milady, let me assist you.”
The voice was low and well modulated. The hand that touched hers was gloved in soft leather. She accepted the assistance, and looked up slowly.
A startled gasp tore from her lips.
He was nothing like the Silver Hawk, nothing at all. He was clean shaven and his powdered wig was neatly queued, and he was dressed totally as the lord. He was young, and his features were striking and clean cut and strong.
It was his eyes…
Only his eyes…
They were the same as his distant cousin’s, so very much the same. Silver-toned and arresting, perhaps more so on this man, for the very white of his powdered wig made the darkness of his lashes and brows all the more striking.
He arched a brow, stiffening at her look. “Milady, be not afraid! I am Petroc Cameron, sworn to defend you, and not that heathen cousin of mine. The eyes, I’m afraid, are an accident of birth. The resemblance has always been a matter of distress to me, but never so much as now, as it causes you discomfort!”
Discomfort…he did not know the depths of it!
“Sir!” she managed to murmur.
“Milady…” he said. She thought that there was warmth to his whisper. He held both of her hands and studied her swiftly. “You are well?” he said anxiously.
“Very.”
“Thank God for that,” he said, and turned to his men. “Mr. Morley, Mr. Niven, I give you my lady Skye. Skye, all and any of us are at your service, and we will strive to erase the horrors of the past days for you.”
She could not speak. She nodded to Lord Cameron’s mate and his quartermaster. Mr. Niven was young and blond and blue-eyed, and though his smile was as grave as the circumstances, his eyes were merry, and she thought that she might like him very well. Mr. Morley seemed more staid and strict; he was bewigged like Lord Cameron, and solid in posture.
“Mr. Morley will see you to your cabin, milady,” Lord Cameron told her. “I will be with you as soon as possible; I’m afraid that I must now see to our embarkation.”
She nodded, turning around to say good-bye to Robert. She would miss him.
Robert was gone. He had left the deck without a word.
There was a touch upon her elbow. She turned again to see Mr. Morley standing there, a grave expression upon his heavy jowled face. “If you’ll come with me, my lady?”
