Lady in the Mist - Laurie Alice Eakes [70]
“What do you want?” The voice was little more than a murmur, muffled and unrecognizable.
“I want—” Raleigh’s heart nearly stopped. “I want to—I want out of this game.” It hadn’t been his prepared speech, but he spoke his heart.
The other man laughed. “The option is a bite of the cat-o’-nine-tails aboard a certain frigate on the American station, or even hanging.”
“They can’t do that without a court martial,” Raleigh protested. “I’d have to be condemned for desertion.”
“You have been.” Satisfaction rang even through the murmur. “I got word yesterday that they held one in your absence.”
Tuesday, the day Cherrett went aboard the British sloop. Not proof, but too much of a coincidence for him to risk pursuing his plan for Dominick Cherrett. Who else in Seabourne could learn of British Navy doings?
“I thought that sloop put into the inlet for a reason,” Raleigh said.
Stillness and silence from the man.
Not stillness and silence from outside. Something bumped against the shed wall, a light tap like a windblown twig or a metal button.
The wind was calm.
“Did you invite someone along tonight?” his companion demanded.
“No, I—”
A hard hand curled around Raleigh’s shoulder. “If I go out there and find evidence of someone being here, I may save your captain a rope.”
“Go ahead.” Raleigh found the words fluent on his tongue. “I left a letter saying if anything happens to me, it’s Dominick Cherrett’s fault.”
“Did you indeed.” The man chuckled deep in his chest.
“I did.” It lay on his pillow.
“Then I’ll just have to find it,” the other man said. He moved with the speed of a striking snake, and the world went black.
Two lights still burned in the seaside cottage, one upstairs in the front, facing the ocean, one on the lower floor, spilling over the herb garden. Dominick circled the house once, glad there wasn’t a dog to bark and alert the ladies to the fact that he wasn’t certain if he should knock on the front door or the back. Never in his life had he been the one required to seek out medical assistance. And he was wasting time, while a man’s head oozed like the insides of a soft-boiled egg thrown against a wall.
He chose the front door. The shiny brass knocker gleamed in the moonlight, drawing his eye, drawing his feet up the flagstones to lift the dove-shaped knocker for a smart rap. In the quiet night, the bang reverberated like thunder. A bird woke in a nearby tree and muttered a complaint.
Inside the house, footfalls sounded, light and quick. The door sprang open. “How may I—Dominick, what are you doing here at this hour?”
“Seeking medical assistance.” He didn’t smile. He wanted her to know he wasn’t making up a tale.
She still gave him a dubious scan from head to toe. “You look all right to me.”
“I am, but Raleigh Trower isn’t.”
“Raleigh?” Her hand flew to her lips, her eyes widened, and color drained from her face. “What? Where is he?” She peered past Dominick.
He stared past her face. He didn’t want her to read his expression, a telltale twitch or blink that might betray the inner pang she’d set off with her reaction to news of Raleigh’s injury.
“I didn’t want to move him.” Dominick shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Will you come with me?”
“Of course. What do I need?”
“Bandages. Perhaps stitching things.”
“Wait here.” She spun on her heel and raced up the steps.
“Shall I come with you?” Patience emerged from the kitchen to call up the steps.
Dominick couldn’t hear Tabitha’s response, but Patience’s lips thinned and she glanced toward him, as though she didn’t like it.
“The wind’s kicking up,” Dominick said.
“All the more reason I should go too, besides it not being decent, her out alone with you.” Patience yanked a cloak off of a rack by the