Smuggler's Kiss (5 page)

The door behind me flew open with a bang and I whipped round, fists raised, ready to lash out at whoever it was. It took a moment for my rage-filled, heated vision to take in the sight of a rough man with a scarred face and a front tooth missing. I screamed and flew at him, determined to tear his face with my nails.

The man caught my wrists in unbelievably powerful hands and twisted them until I gasped and dropped to my knees. Then he let me go and dealt me one ringing slap across the cheek. ‘I’ve heard enough of your childish tantrums,’ he ordered. ‘You be silent now.’

‘You can’t make me,’ I gasped, still defiant, although my head was spinning from the blow. To prove it, I began to scream again.

The man crouched down opposite me and looked into my eyes. There was a cold anger in his own eyes that made me quail, and I stopped mid-scream and froze as he drew a long sheath knife from his belt. ‘In case you’re wondering, I’m the one known as Hard-Head Bill,’ he said menacingly.

My heart hammered in terror. I was certain he was going to kill me there and then. He grasped a handful of my waist-length hair with one powerful hand, twisting it. Then he reached up his knife and sliced hard across it. I whimpered in shock as my beautiful golden hair showered over the cabin floor among the fragments of broken glass.

Bill raised the knife again and threatened me with it. ‘I’ll remind you, I was one of them as wanted you dead,’ he said slowly and deliberately. ‘I ain’t changed my mind. I’m in charge of this ship for the rest of the day. So you’ll shut it, or you’ll feel the edge of this knife.’

Bill clearly didn’t doubt that I’d comply with his order, for he got up and left, turning the key behind him. I crouched on the floor in silence, aware of the pounding of my heart and the trembling of my limbs. I’d never, in the course of my short life, come up against anyone who had cowed my will and forced my obedience. But I wasn’t inclined to try him any further. I believed his threat. I got up, trembling with shock and indignation.

My right knee was cut and bleeding, and I dabbed at it with a cloth I found by the washstand. My hands shook pitifully. I touched my hair, hardly able to believe what the brute had done to me. Half of it was still long and half now only reached to my shoulder.

I stayed silent and furious but too frightened to object, as the long hours of the day passed. I heard the men come and go, goods being loaded aboard and at last the crew cast off and sailed out to sea once more. My first visit to France had passed with no more sight of Cherbourg than the view of the quay.

I was hungry, thirsty, and very bored when the key eventually rattled in the lock, and the cabin door swung open. I lay quite still on the bunk where I’d passed the last few hours. ‘Get up,’ ordered a voice. I deliberately turned away to face the wall. These men were brutes. They needn’t think they could just order me about like a servant.

I shouldn’t have been surprised to be dragged backwards out of the bunk by two firm hands under my arms. I landed in an undignified heap with a shriek of indignation. ‘How
dare
you … ’ I began, but Will laughed harshly.

‘You ought to be learning by now that we’re not your servants. You are now the most junior crew member on board,’ he said. ‘That means you do as you’re told. Get used to it and stop bleating like the spoiled brat you are.’

‘I’m
not
spoiled,’ I retorted.

‘Ha!’ said Will, folding his arms, his mouth set in an uncompromising line. He stared at me in silence for a moment, and then added: ‘You’re a particularly spoiled, indulged, arrogant rich girl, and you have a great deal to learn if you want to live long on board this ship.’

He waited to see if I would reply. I was furious at his brutal appraisal, but sought to retain my dignity with a chilling silence, fixing my gaze on a point to the left of him.

‘Good,’ Will said. He picked up a broom from just outside the door and handed it to me. ‘First, you are going to clean up the mess you’ve made.’ I glared at him, while he waited. I had no intention of demeaning myself. ‘I would get on with it if I were you,’ he advised unsympathetically. ‘For there’ll be no food for you until it’s done.’

‘You won’t dare to starve me!’ I retorted angrily.

Will raised his brows and looked at me in incredulous silence. I knew that he was right; there were many men on board who’d be more than happy to let me starve. Furiously, I snatched up the brush and carelessly swept the glass into a pile. Then I picked it up, piece by piece, taking care not to cut myself, and threw it into the bin Will offered me. ‘You’ve missed a bit,’ Will pointed out. His eyes were glinting now, I suspected with amusement. I picked up the chunk of glass and threw it in with the other broken pieces.

‘Satisfied?’ I demanded.

He shrugged. ‘It’s your cabin, and your feet that will get cut if you leave shards lying about,’ he said cheerfully. ‘You should be thankful to
have
a private cabin. Two men have had to give up that privilege to accommodate you, you know.’

I shrugged. ‘Well, I could hardly sleep with the rest of you, could I?’ I pointed out ungratefully. ‘And I didn’t ask to be here.’

Will sighed. ‘Follow me,’ he said. ‘I’ve another task for you.’

I rolled my eyes and got unwillingly to my feet to accompany him. The sun was setting in a blaze of reds and pinks in the west, as I emerged onto the deck. I paused, looking about me in some awe. It was a truly stunning view. I caught hurriedly at the door as the ship pitched. There was no land in sight; only a rolling green swell as far as I could see in every direction. There was a definite chill in the air and I shivered a little after the relative warmth of the small cabin.

Once I’d got my balance, Will led me to a bucket and a heap of crumpled fabric lying in the prow of the ship by the foremost mast. I recognized my gown. ‘What?’ I asked, looking up at Will. ‘It’s ruined.’

‘Wash it,’ he ordered.

My jaw dropped. ‘Me?’ I gasped. ‘Me, wash my own gown? That’s servants’ work.’

‘I told you, you were spoiled,’ he said curtly.

‘It’s not a matter of being spoiled,’ I objected. ‘That’s insulting. I’m not a washerwoman.’

‘You are now,’ Will said with a grin. ‘You’re anything I say.’ It was obvious he was enjoying himself. I clenched my teeth together and looked hopelessly out at the endless sea.

‘It needs rinsing,’ he said. ‘To get the salt water out. Otherwise as you say, it will be ruined.’

‘I don’t care,’ I snapped at him. ‘I don’t want it; I have no use for it and I’ll never wear it again.’

‘Wrong on two counts,’ said Will with a grin. ‘We have a very fine use for it and for you. And you’ll be wearing it tomorrow night.’

I lifted my hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘Very well, but explain.’

‘Wash the gown first,’ Will said. He retreated to the side of the ship, leaning against the rail at his ease, watching me. His smugness annoyed me.

I looked down at the tangled heap of gown reluctantly, then sighed, bent and picked it up. Or at least, I tried. I was amazed at how heavy the gown was now that it was drenched through; at the reams of fabric that it consisted of, all of which trailed onto the deck, sodden and dripping with sea water. It smelled of sea water too. I tried unsuccessfully to stuff it into the bucket, but the more I pushed, the bigger and more unwieldy the gown seemed to become. I shoved hard, and water squirted up and drenched the sleeves of my shirt.

‘You might want to roll up your sleeves,’ said Will politely, and then turned away to hide his laughter. I could see his shoulders shaking. Angry that he hadn’t warned me sooner, I yanked at my soggy shirt sleeves. Clearly, I was the evening’s entertainment. Will wasn’t the only one watching my humiliation, nor was he the only one openly enjoying it.

Being the source of so much amusement made me determined to spoil the men’s fun by completing my task successfully. I fought with the gown and the water, dipping and squeezing the train and the bodice. I unpeeled the sodden petticoats and washed each one separately; that way, they were less of a challenge than the gown itself. Finally, I rinsed the veil. I only found out after I’d torn the hem just how delicate the lace was when it was wet.

At last I stood, wet through and panting with exertion, the whole pile of fabric rinsed. Will nodded nonchalantly towards the lowest rigging. ‘You can spread it out to dry there,’ he said, as though I hadn’t done enough work for one day. ‘There are pegs in the bag tied to the lowest rope.’

I was out of breath, my arms were aching and I was really hungry, but I wasn’t going to tell him so. Instead, I did as he said, pegging out my hated garments on the ropes. It wasn’t as easy a task as I’d expected, as they bunched and dragged on the ropes, threatening to tear again.

But at last it was done, after a fashion. I sighed and dropped my weary arms to my sides. Will surveyed my handiwork.

‘Clumsy and untidy,’ he said blightingly. ‘If you were a servant, you’d be sacked.’

‘But I am not,’ I said. ‘Nor do I have any expectation of becoming one.’

He regarded me enigmatically, as though about to speak, but then shrugged. ‘You’ve earned your dinner now,’ he said. ‘And then we’ll talk.’

Over a bowl of savoury stew with dumplings, I listened to what he had to say. ‘I’ve been put in command of this action,’ he told me. ‘And that includes being in charge of you tomorrow. I don’t relish it, but you may as well make yourself useful.’

‘What action is this?’ I asked.

‘We’re going to an empty house,’ Will told me. ‘Everyone knows it’s haunted; that’s why it’s deserted and useful to our landing team as a hiding place. But, most inconveniently, the ghost hasn’t shown itself for several years now. People are starting to venture into the grounds again. People that include the local customs men. We’ve even heard rumours a buyer was looking at it; a buyer who is not a friend to the Gentlemen. We need to set that to rights.’

I looked at him suspiciously, half-remembering Jacob’s speech the other night. ‘Just how shall we do that?’ I asked. ‘Find the ghost and persuade it to show itself?’

‘Don’t be stupid, Isabelle. There is no ghost. You and I do not believe in such apparitions. But many of the country folk do, and so we will give them a ghost.’

It was the first time he’d acknowledged his own background. I wanted to question him, to ask about how he had ended up with a crew of smugglers, but his expression was forbidding, so I refrained.

‘Don’t tell me,’ I said instead, with a slight shiver. I wasn’t quite sure that I agreed with him about not believing in ghosts, although I wasn’t going to admit it. ‘The ghost was a girl who died in mysterious circumstances. And I am to be she.’

‘You have a certain quickness of understanding,’ Will conceded. ‘It makes up a little—a very little!—for your grave faults.’

‘I don’t admit that I have any faults.’

‘Of course you don’t. I doubt very much you even recognize them. It’s what makes you so unbearable,’ retorted Will indifferently.

I was silenced. There was no doubt he meant what he said. Will was the only man aboard this ship who shared anything with me—background, education, class. And he hated me. I felt shame and humiliation creep into my cheeks and turned away to hide it.

‘Nice haircut, by the way,’ remarked Will.

I put my hand up to touch my ragged hair and thought how much I hated him back.

The evening was moonless and overcast with rain misting in the autumn air. It was a complete contrast to the bright, sunny day that had preceded it. I shivered a little as I crouched in the damp rowing boat that was taking me and Will to the beach. I could make out the waves breaking on the sand ahead of us. Behind us
The Invisible
loomed, awaiting the return of the boat. I was looking forward to setting both feet on dry land again and had some secret hope of making an escape.

Will shifted restlessly beside me. In his hands was a sack containing my gown, a length of chain, some rope, and a flask of liquid courage.

The previous night, having sailed westwards up the channel, we’d lain off a dark and rocky stretch of coast. Two crew members had gone ashore to spread tales of ghosts ready for our escapade. They hoped to whip up an audience for the haunting.

The boat lifted in the waves and then dropped, crunching gently onto sand. Will jumped out into the foam and hauled the boat a little further in. He turned to me. ‘Come on,’ he said impatiently.

I stood up gingerly, clinging to the edge of the boat, waiting to be helped. Will stood back without offering. Hard-Head Bill was holding the oars and ignoring me.

Feeling aggrieved, I struggled to get one leg over the edge of the boat, but then pulled it back as a wave washed under it.

‘Dear Lord, give me patience,’ exclaimed Will rolling his eyes.

‘A gentleman would assist a lady,’ I said crossly.

‘You aren’t a lady any more. I’ve told you that already. You’re a crew member and need to learn to behave like one. Now get out of that boat!’

I struggled out over the side, crying out as the waves washed over my feet, and stumbled up the beach onto the dry sand. Will pushed the boat back out, and then stomped off, leaving me to follow him as best I might. My borrowed, ill-fitting boots were soggy now.