Ravished by the Rake Page 14

  ‘And there you have it. You want love and emotion and devotion.’ He shrugged. ‘I do not. Love is a fantasy, overrated at best, poison at worst. Those giggling girls on board would tell me they loved me if I gave them the slightest encouragement, and they would convince themselves they meant it, any of them. What they love is my title and my money.

  ‘Friendship and loyalty now, those are another matter. I like you, Dita. I want you and I am doing my damndest to balance those two things because I owe you loyalty.’

  ‘You call licking my ear—’

  ‘I never said I was a saint,’ he said with a grimace. ‘I take my pleasures where I can. And you, my darling Dita, are certainly a pleasure.’

  ‘Oh, you … you maddening man. Just keep out of my way from now on. No help, no defending me from other men, no teasing, no games. Nothing. Do you understand me?’

  ‘But of course.’ Alistair sketched a bow. ‘Behold, your most indifferent servant—until you ask me to behave otherwise. May I hold the door for you, or is that too demonstrative?’

  Dita glared, beyond any retaliation. Inside something hurt. She wanted the old Alistair back, the boy, her friend. Instead she had this man whom she desired beyond safety or reason and who she could not understand any more than she understood herself just at the moment.

  ‘Far too demonstrative,’ she snapped, opened the door and swept out.

  Chapter Twelve

  Alistair was as good as his word. His manner was polite, impeccable, indifferent and drove her wild with desire. The cynical part of her wondered if he knew that. However, he still attended the evening meetings of what Daniel Chatterton had christened the ‘editorial committee’. As they left Madeira behind them the novel reached chapter thirty, enlivened now by the swordfight, pirates, the attempted keelhauling of the hero with a dramatic escape and the unfortunate Angelina still barely eluding the clutches of the evil Blackstone.

  ‘Who is not exerting himself very hard in that direction,’ Dita heard Alistair mutter to Daniel as they left the deck after a spirited discussion of the day’s incidents.

  Neither are you, thank goodness, she thought, attempting to be glad of it. But the fact that Alistair was behaving perfectly did not mean that her own treacherous feelings were as obedient. She still wanted him, still longed to touch him. And she wanted their old friendship back as well. She wanted, she was well aware, the moon.

  The light was fading fast and Dita reminded herself they were not yet halfway through March. It was chilly now they were in the Bay of Biscay, the ladies put heavy cloaks over their shawls before venturing out and Averil, brought up from childhood in India, shivered.

  ‘How much longer, Captain?’ she asked as they crowded into the cuddy, cheerful and warm with its lamps burning in their gimbals and the smell of the baked goods the cook had sent up with tea.

  ‘Impatient, Miss Heydon?’ He smiled. ‘We have made good time, you know. Provided we do not run into any trouble with French warships, or privateers—and the captain of British navy brig we encountered two days ago thinks we should not—and the wind holds, then I expect to sight Land’s End in two days and you should be on land in Plymouth the day after that.’

  Most of the passengers, Dita included, would disembark at Plymouth and travel overland to their destinations, even those heading for London. After so long at sea the chance to be free of the ship more than made up for the trials of road travel.

  ‘Are you London-bound, Lady Perdita?’ Alistair asked her as she sipped her tea. He passed her the cakes, taking care not to touch her hand, she thought. Or perhaps she was being too sensitive. This distance was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

  ‘No. I shall go home to Combe,’ she said, with a smile of pleasure at the thought. ‘We will go up to London for the Season a little late, but Mama did not wish to make firm plans—the length of the voyage is so unpredictable.’

  ‘I will escort you then. I am returning to Lyndonholt Castle.’

  ‘There is no need,’ Dita protested, then caught herself. Her alarm at the thought of being in a close carriage with Alistair for a long day’s journey must sound as though she did not trust him. It was herself she did not trust. ‘Thank you, but I would not want to inconvenience you. Mr Bastable must get up to town immediately we land, but Mrs Bastable is going to stay with Averil and me until we are collected. My father will come for me and Averil’s betrothed will presumably send a carriage and a maid for her.’

  ‘But do you want to wait?’ Alistair passed her a biscuit, but she shook her head, too undecided to think about food. ‘Mrs Bastable can select a reliable maid that your parents would approve of. I will hire a chaise for you and a horse for myself.’

  ‘Thank you. I must admit that when I have landed I am sure I will not want anything more than to be home.’ She put her hand on his forearm and felt him stiffen. She lifted it away. ‘You are very kind, Alistair.’

  No,’ he said, his smile thin. ‘I am a selfish devil; you would do well to remember that, Dita.’

  ‘Are you cold, too?’ Averil asked. Dita jumped and stopped watching Alistair’s back as he left the cabin. ‘You are shivering as much as I am. Shall we change into something warmer before supper?’

  Wednesday 15th March—off the Isles of Scilly

  ‘We will put into Hugh Town on St Mary’s tomorrow, Mrs Bastable,’ the captain said as the steward cleared the cheese board from the supper table. ‘That storm last night has taken us west, and it will be as well to check the ship in quiet waters before we enter the Channel, but it will not delay us long.’

  Alistair stretched his legs under the table, bumped feet with Daniel who was discussing fox hunting with George Latham, and grimaced. Oh, to be on land, stretching his legs. To run, to ride, to feel grass under his feet and a gentler sun on his skin. To have the freedom to be alone without the constant need to make conversation and allowances. Without the constant, aching, nearness of Dita Brooke. Marriage. Her question had both surprised him and made him wary. She wanted love, and that he could not give her. It was unfair to dally with her, to tease her into an unconsummated affaire, he kept reminding himself. So far that resolution had held.

  ‘English soil at last,’ the matron said with a sigh, dragging her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. ‘An English spring. It is twelve years since I last saw one of those. Can we not go into harbour tonight, Captain Archibald?’

  ‘No, ma’am, I’m afraid not. We must wait here at anchor until a pilot rows out to us at first light. The waters around the Isles are littered with reefs and rocks and sand bars and are not safe to be approached in the dark.’

  ‘I had no idea spring in England would be so chilly,’ Averil remarked. ‘I thought the sun would shine and it would be warmer than this.’

  ‘Not on a March night, Miss Heydon,’ Callum said with a grin. ‘Ne’er cast a clout til May be out, is the saying. It will be a while before we have temperatures that you might consider even passably warm enough for you to break out your pretty muslins.’

  She sent him a smile that froze as the ship gave a sudden lurch, sending the wine glasses sliding. Alistair saw Daniel’s head snap round to met his brother’s eyes and exchange a silent message. He put down his own wineglass and watched the captain.

  Archibald was frowning. ‘What the—?’

  He was on his feet even as a sailor appeared in the doorway. ‘Mr Henshaw’s compliments, Captain, but the wind’s got up and she’s dragging the anchor and will you come at once?’

  Several woman gave little shrieks, but not, Alistair noted as he got to his feet, Dita. She had gone a trifle pale, but she was calm.

  ‘What should we do?’ a man asked from further along the table, his voice rising in barely controlled alarm.

  ‘Nothing,’ Alistair said, thinking furiously. Through storms and wild seas the ship had never felt so strange under his feet as it did now. Something was very wrong, but panic would only make it worse. ‘I expect it will be a trifle unsettled while th
ey put out another anchor or shift position to find a better hold on the sea bed. Better not to retire to our bunks just yet, in case it becomes rough for a while.’

  He exchanged a swift glance with the Chatterton twins. The three of them were the youngest, fittest men amongst the civilian passengers in the cuddy. If there was any danger, they would help the officers get the women to the boats.

  ‘Should we go on deck?’ Mr Crabtree, a middle-aged merchant, asked.

  ‘Why, no,’ Alistair said easily. ‘Think how underfoot we would be. There are all the sailors rushing about doing whatever they do with yards and sheets and anchors. We should just settle down for a while until the captain comes back.’

  He strolled across to where Callum was stooping to look out of the window. ‘What can you see?’ he murmured against the babble of conversation. Across the cabin Daniel was teasing the ladies about their plans for London shopping, but he had stayed on his feet and Alistair could sense his tense alertness.

  ‘It is as black as the devil’s waistcoat, except for that light over there.’ Callum nodded at a spot on the port bow. ‘And that’s moving.’

  ‘Wreckers?’

  ‘No, it’s us. We’re going before the wind and closer to the light and the land. I don’t like the feel of this.’

  ‘Neither do I. We’re all up here, aren’t we?’

  ‘Yes.’ Callum cocked his head towards the door to the Great Cabin from where a babble of voices and the sound of a crying child could be heard. One of the lieutenants walked briskly through the cuddy and they heard his feet clattering down the companionway.

  ‘He’ll sort them out down there,’ Alistair said. ‘There are enough able-bodied men to help. Up here there’s seventeen if you don’t count the three of us.’ He jerked his head towards Daniel. ‘Just in case, we’ll divide them up, five or six each. You have a word with your brother and we’ll start to cut them out and get them into groups without them noticing, with any luck.’

  Callum nodded and strolled over to speak to his twin under cover of a lively discussion about London hotels. Most of the other men knew what the danger was, Alistair was pretty certain, but they were staying outwardly calm. They were tough, experienced characters, all of them, even those who were older and fatter. Certainly he received slight nods of acknowledgment as the three younger men edged the ladies into little groups and the motion of the ship became stronger.

  Dita made her way to his side and whispered, ‘You think we are in danger, don’t you?’

  ‘Best to be careful,’ he murmured back, ‘and not to panic.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said. She had gone even paler, but she kept her chin up and a smile on her face as though they were discussing a trivial matter, and he felt a flash of pride in her courage. ‘I’m sure there is nothing to be—’

  The Bengal Queen shuddered to a stop as though she had run into a wall, sending Dita stumbling into his arms. For a moment there was silence, then one of the older women began to scream and was shushed by her husband.

  ‘Up on deck now,’ Alistair ordered, setting Dita on her feet. ‘You all with me. That group there—Mrs Bastable!—with Daniel Chatterton. You five with Callum. Hold tight as you go. We’ll get the ladies into the boats first.’

  The cabin shifted, throwing them all into a heap, half on the deck, half sprawled across table and chairs. A lamp crashed down, burning oil spilled out, and Dita yanked the shawl from Mrs Bastable’s shoulders and smothered the fire. Without a word the men began to get the fallen to their feet. Beside him Alistair was aware of Averil helping an older woman, her voice calm as she took her arm.

  Dita had blood trickling from her forehead. ‘Dita? Are you—?’

  ‘It is nothing.’ She brushed off his hand and went to get Dr Melchett upright.

  ‘Hurry.’ Daniel was at the door, braced against the worsening tilt of the deck, his hand stretched out to pull the others towards him until he had his little group of six, then he gave way for Alistair to get his charges on deck. At his side Callum hauled and pushed until everyone was huddled around the main mast.

  It was dark, lit only by the moving light from the lanterns, and the wind that had come up so fast was cold and gusting. Hair and shawls flapped wildly, men’s faces came in and out of focus as the sailors fought with the ropes to lower the boats. Passengers from the Great Cabin began to pour out, milling around, adding to the confusion.

  While Alistair fought to keep people together and sort the women and children and the frail from the more able-bodied, the twins helped load the first boat, with four of the sailors to row and some of the older men to help the women down the ladder and into the wave-tossed boat. It pushed off from the side and vanished into the darkness.

  ‘Now you.’ Alistair pulled Dita towards the side as the second and third boats were lowered. Their feet slid on the tilting deck; water was coming over the side as waves hit the ship broadside. Then the moon came out from the clouds and he saw the rocks as its light lit the breaking surf.

  ‘No, get the older women on this one.’ Dita twisted from his grasp and went to help Mrs Bastable and a grey-haired lady who was sobbing wildly. It took longer this time—the angle of the ship was greater, the wind seemed to be gaining strength. Or perhaps, Alistair thought as he fought his way to Daniel’s side, they were losing theirs.

  At last the boat was loaded and away, and another lowered to be crammed with the Great Cabin passengers. Alistair found Lieutenant Henshaw at his side. ‘All the rest of the passengers into the next one,’ he ordered.

  Alistair pulled Dita and Averil up the tilting deck to the rail. ‘I’ll go first,’ he said, holding Dita’s eyes with his. ‘I’ll keep you safe.’

  ‘I know.’ Her smile was shaky, but real, and he felt a stab of fear for her that was almost painful.

  Alistair climbed down the ladder into the pitching boat with the sailors. He was cold and soaked; how the women were coping he had no idea. Dita. He blanked emotion from his mind and concentrated. The Bengal Queen was shifting on the rock that had snared her; he could hear the grinding sound, like a great beast in agony in a trap.

  Daniel landed in the boat beside him, his face white as he stared up at his brother, still on deck. Callum began to help people over the rail, shouting encouragement over the crashing of the waves. Dita came sliding down the ladder into Alistair’s arms; he pushed her back on to a seat. ‘Hang on!’

  Then Averil Heydon was clinging to his neck, gasping. ‘I’m all right,’ she shouted above the noise as she stumbled away to join Dita. The two girls wrapped their arms around each other as they huddled on the plank seat.

  ‘Cal! Come on!’ Daniel shouted, his hands cupped around his mouth.

  Alistair saw Callum raise a hand in acknowledgment and put one hand on the gunwale, ready to climb over. Then he froze, staring out with a look of blank shock. Alistair swung round. Coming towards them was a foaming wall of water, black and white in the stark moonlight.

  ‘Dita—’ The wave hit, picking the boat up like a toy. They were falling, tossed up and over. Bodies crashed into him as they tumbled helplessly into the sea. He reached out as he fell, grabbed, almost blind, on nothing but instinct, and a hand fastened around his wrist. He saw Dita’s face, stark with horror, and then they were in the water and all rational thought ceased.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘Dita! Dita, open your eyes.’ She was dreaming about Alistair. She wished she could wake up because in her dream she was freezing cold, and her whole body ached and he was shouting at her. ‘Dita, darling!’ Now he was shaking her. She tried to protest, to push him away. It hurt and the blanket must have fallen off the bed which was why she was so cold …

  ‘Dita, damn it, wake up or I am going to slap you!’

  ‘No,’ she managed and opened her eyes on to near-darkness. It was not a dream, she realised as fitful moonlight caught Alistair’s face. His hair was plastered to his head, his shirt was in tatters. ‘What?’

  Water, even col
der than she was, splashed over her feet. Her bare feet. It all came back: the ship and the fear and the great wave that had hurled them out of the boat into the sea.

  ‘Thank God. Can you crawl up the beach?’ Alistair asked. He was kneeling, she realised. ‘We need to get away from the sea into some shelter. I don’t think I can carry you, I’m sorry.’ His voice sounded harsh and painful as he hauled her up into a sitting position against his shoulder.

  ‘Don’t be,’ Dita murmured against the chilled skin. He must be exhausted, beyond exhausted, and he was still asking more of himself. ‘You saved me. I can crawl. Oh—’ She leaned over and was violently ill, retching sea water until she was gasping. ‘All right … now.’ Her throat hurt; she must sound as bad as he did, she thought, aware of Alistair holding her, shielding her with his own shivering body against the cold wind.

  The beach was sand, thank heavens—she did not think she could have managed if it had been rock or shifting pebbles. As she struggled Alistair half-lifted, half-dragged her, her arm around his shoulders, their free hands clawing at the gentle slope until the texture changed. ‘Grass.’

  ‘Yes.’ He staggered to his feet and pulled her the rest of the way until she lay on the short, salt-bitten turf. ‘Hell, I can’t see any lights.’ He turned, peering into the gloom. ‘But there’s something over there, a hut perhaps. Can you stand now?’

  She managed it, climbing up his body until he could hold her against his side, and there, fifty feet beyond where they stood, was the sharp edge of a roof line. With an aim in sight they moved faster, stumbling across the turf, stubbing bare feet on rocks.

  ‘It’s not locked, thank God.’ Alistair pushed against the door and it creaked open. ‘Hold on here.’ He placed her hands on the door jamb and went inside. Dita heard curses, a thump, then a rasping sound. A thread of light became a candle, then another. ‘There’s a lamp,’ she said and he lit that, too.