Lady in the Mist - Laurie Alice Eakes [139]
“We were right.” She feared the weakness of her voice reflected her pain and fatigue. “They must have been searching for him, figuring the tide currents would bring him this way.”
“I didn’t think the captain would risk Parks getting away.” He rested his hand on her shoulder. “Or Raleigh.”
“Yes, Raleigh.” Tabitha sagged against the taffrail. “How do we approach them without getting fired upon?”
“I’ll hail them, if you can take the wheel.”
“Of course.” The now often-spoken words had lost some of their conviction.
Dominick stepped away from the tiller but remained at her side, peering down at her through the starlight. “I shouldn’t have let you come. You’re about to faint on me.”
“I’m not such a weak creature.” She smiled at him. “But maybe the captain is gentleman enough to offer me a chair, if he lets us aboard.”
“Tabitha—”
“Who’s there?” a voice cried from the prow of the frigate.
Dominick cupped his hands around his mouth. “Lord Dominick Cherrett.” He dropped one hand to the wheel. “Hold her steady. I’ll lower the sail.” He dashed forward.
Lights flared along the rail of the Nemesis. Faces shone in the yellow glare.
“Did you say Lord Dominick Cherrett?” a marine called.
“I did.” Dominick sounded calm, confident, every bit the aristocrat he was. “Toss us a line and lower a bosun’s chair. I have a lady with me.”
“A lady?” the marine repeated.
A quiet chorus of laughter rippled over the water.
“What’s a Cherrett doing out here?” The marine now sounded suspicious, and no rope was forthcoming yet.
“That, sirrah,” Dominick responded, “is your captain’s concern, not yours.”
“Is that so?” The marine leaned over the rail and spat. “Well, the captain won’t be concerned if we don’t let you aboard just because you’re claiming you’re a lord. Mebbe you’re one of those tricky Yankees come to cause us more trouble.”
“And perhaps my uncle, Vice Admiral Landry, will be interested in your insolence,” Dominick returned.
The marine straightened. Shadows moved around the lights, and murmurs drifted through the night.
“A bit of a conference,” Dominick said to Tabitha. “They aren’t quite certain I’m telling the truth, but now they’re wondering if they should risk letting me aboard in the event I am.”
“You shouldn’t have called me a lady.” Tabitha tugged at her worn gown. “They’ll be expecting elegance.”
“What they’re expecting is what I tell them to expect.”
Tabitha stared at him. Confidence, determination, even occasional haughtiness she’d seen in him. Outright arrogance, as he demonstrated now, was entirely new and disconcerting.
“Should I behave a certain way?” she asked.
“Be your wonderful self.” Grasping a stay, Dominick stepped onto the gunwale and called out, “Throw us a line now, or I’ll tell my uncle how uncooperative you all were.”
“We have to notify the captain before we can let you aboard,” the marine informed them. “But we’re dropping a line to you now. Can you catch it?”
“I’ll give it a good try,” Dominick muttered.
As he spoke, a rope sailed across the lantern light, straight at Dominick’s head. He ducked. The rope struck the deck of the Marianne with a resounding thud, and Dominick dove after it.
“Come help me, Tabitha?” he asked, keeping his voice quiet. “We need to moor against them, or we’ll drift too far leeward and not be able to return.”
“Which might not be a terrible event.” Tabitha moved to the deck to join Dominick in hauling the fishing boat closer to the frigate’s side. Although several sailors lined the rail of the ship towering over the Marianne, none of them offered to assist. Tabitha used only one hand, so the going proved slow. By the time their bow bumped the hull of the Nemesis, men in officers’ uniforms had shooed the sailors from the rail.
“I’m Avery, the first lieutenant,” one man announced. “You are Lord Dominick Cherrett requesting permission to come aboard with a . . . er . . . companion?”
“I am.” Dominick finished securing the line. “And don’t ask me to explain why I’m here. I’ll tell only the captain.