Page 24

O utside on the upper deck, the ship rose and fell with the waves. The darkness was broken only by a handful of scattered oil lamps. Several deck hands adjusted the sails while the dull noise of the steam engine droned on.

Michael kept Hannah’s hand firmly in his, wondering why he’d agreed to this. There was no reason to bring her with him where her presence would be noticeably out of place. It was irrational and dangerous.

But he didn’t want to leave her alone. Not after he’d been attacked tonight. And especially not after what had just happened between them.

It had taken an act of the greatest restraint not to seduce her. He didn’t doubt for a moment that he could have. Her body had responded to him with a passion he’d never expected. More than anything, he’d wanted to strip off her remaining undergarments, joining their bodies together.

The sensual image of her legs wrapped around his waist while he buried himself deep within was like a fire igniting his lust. She was a lady, not a woman to be trifled with. Softhearted, stubborn, and highly intelligent, everything about her captivated him.

And yet he couldn’t bring himself to dishonor her. If he took her innocence, she would pay the price. And he couldn’t destroy her chance to make a strong marriage, no matter how much he might want her.

The thought of another man being intimate with Hannah made him clench his fists. At dinner tonight he’d seen the way the gentlemen watched her. He had no right to feel possessive toward her. Not then and not now.

He gripped her hand, studying the area for any sign of Mrs. Turner. When they passed by one of the sailors, he drew Hannah closer, both to protect her from the rocking of the ship and to send an unmistakable warning to the other sailors.

The bo’sun stepped forward and intercepted them. “Pardon me, m’lord, but passengers aren’t allowed on deck at this hour. Best be returnin’ to your cabin. Captain’s orders.”

Michael wasn’t surprised to hear it, but he didn’t give a damn what the Captain’s orders were.

Whenever Mrs. Turner had one of her spells, there was no telling what she’d do.

He didn’t want her to fall into the sea and drown if her madness tempted her to do something rash.

Abigail Turner was the only family he had left, and he would keep her safe at all costs.

He faced the bo’sun and drew upon his officer’s hauteur. Had they been in the Army, he would outrank this man. “One of Lady Hannah’s servants has disappeared.” He nodded to the bo’sun, adding, “We believe she may be lost.”

The bo’sun shrugged. “Haven’t seen her. She might’ve gone to meet someone.” His disrespectful leer suggested that he suspected Hannah and Michael had done exactly that.

Michael sent the man a blistering look. He was well aware of the implications of bringing Hannah with him, but he wasn’t about to let anyone insult her. The sailor straightened, his smirk disappearing at once.

“She is a woman of about sixty-three years, with curling grey hair and light brown eyes,” Michael added. “About this plump.” He held out his arms to show her girth, although Mrs. Turner had lost a good deal of weight since he’d first known her. Too often she forgot to eat.

The bo’sun shook his head. “Sorry, m’lord. I’m in charge of the rigging and the deck crew. But I’ll send one of the hands to look for you, if y’like.”

“Do that.” And in the meantime, he and Hannah would continue searching. He gave a brusque nod before taking Hannah’s hand. He intended to survey every inch of the upper deck, to ensure that they hadn’t missed her.

Turning away, he pretended to escort Hannah to the stairs of the promenade deck, but at the last moment, he guided her around the side of the boat, toward the forecastle.

Together, they traversed the upper deck, slipping into the shadows when any of the deck hands or officers came close. In the dim amber light of the oil lamps, it was nearly impossible to see.

Luck was with them; a few minutes later he spied a red bonnet rolling across the deck.

“She’s here.” He kept Hannah’s hand firmly gripped in his. “Tell me if you see her.”

It took nearly a quarter of an hour before they both heard the singing at the same time. The quavering voice of Mrs. Turner came from above them. Michael lifted his gaze and saw her holding onto the rigging, her body swaying as the ship rocked on the waves.

“Oh, dear heaven,” Hannah breathed when she spied her. “What’s she doing up there? She’ll fall and break her neck.”

“Not if I can get to her first.” Michael removed his jacket and grasped the heavy rope, climbing up the ratline toward Mrs. Turner.

Calling out to her, he said, “Mrs. Turner, let me help you down.” It was so dark, he doubted if she could see his face.

If she didn’t recognize him, it would be a problem.

“Henry?” she cried out, asking for her son. “Is that you?”

He thought about lying, if that would bring her to safety. But if she glimpsed his face, she might panic and fall.

Instead he admitted, “No. It’s Michael Thorpe.”

At first, she didn’t reply, which gave him hope. Her skirts and petticoats billowed in the night air while she held fast to the ropes.

“Will you let me help you down?”

“I don’t know anyone named Michael. Now stay away from me while I wait on my Henry.

” She began singing again, her voice high-pitched.

“Mad. She’s gone mad, for her boy has gone away.

” Her voice grew tighter, mingling with tears.

“My fault. It’s my fault that it happened.

” Sobbing harder, she moaned, “I didn’t want him to die, you see. ”

“Shh—” Michael reached up take her by the waist, but she slapped his hands.

“You’re not my Henry. I don’t know you. Get away from me!” The wind whipped at the ratlines, and Mrs. Turner’s hand slipped. She shrieked as the line spun, making her swing downward. Michael caught her hand and put it back to the rope, though she screamed at him.

Damn it. The precarious balancing point on the ratlines stretching up to the mast made it too dangerous to seize her against her will.

Either of them could lose their grip and fall.

Mrs. Turner was nearly twenty feet up in the air, and though she was primarily over the decking, there was still the possibility that she might slip and fall overboard.

He glanced down and caught a glimpse of Hannah climbing up to them. “Let me try, Michael. I’ll coax her down.” When she drew closer, he saw that she’d tied her skirts to each of her ankles.

There was no hesitation in his refusal. “No.” He wouldn’t risk Hannah’s safety, no matter that she was already close to them. “Climb down.”

But she ignored his orders, reaching up higher. The combined weight of the three of them made the line stretch tight. “You’re frightening her,” Hannah insisted. “I’m a woman. She’ll let me help.”

When he was about to argue again, she touched his elbow. “Stay below us, in case either of us falls.” Mrs. Turner had begun singing again, her frail voice turning hoarse.

“Michael, please,” Hannah begged. “If you try to force her down, she’ll fight you. And you’ll both be hurt.”

He knew she was right. Though he didn’t want to endanger Hannah, he would give her one chance. With great reluctance, he lowered himself below them, to ensure that neither of them fell. He heard Hannah speaking to Mrs. Turner softly.

“I’ve asked him to leave us alone,” she murmured to the older woman. “He’s gone now and won’t harm you.”

“They tried to take him away,” she wept. “My boy.”

Hannah spoke so quietly to Mrs. Turner, Michael couldn’t make out what she was saying. He held tightly to the ratlines, watching both of them. Endless minutes passed, and his grip tightened while he watched.

Then Mrs. Turner slowly began to descend, with Hannah beside her. Michael kept his hands poised on the lines, prepared to break their fall, if either slipped.

Several of the deck hands had gathered around, and Michael ordered them away. The bo’sun tried to apologize, but Michael cut him off, shielding the women from his gaze. “I will escort them back to their state rooms,” he said firmly.

Relief filled him up inside that both women were safely on deck. Lady Hannah held Mrs. Turner’s hand and was speaking quietly to her.

What Hannah had just done was completely unheard of. Women didn’t climb twenty feet in the air to rescue a stranger. It was scandalous, dangerous, and right now he wanted to hold her tightly. Thank God neither of them had been hurt.

She shouldn’t have taken such a bold risk. His anger and fear built up to the point where he gritted his teeth to keep from lashing out at her.

Though his rational mind pointed out that both of them were all right, it might have been a very different outcome. He couldn’t let Hannah take such chances again.

The air was frigid, and Hannah’s teeth chattered from the cold. Mrs. Turner’s hands were icy, and Michael led them all back to Hannah’s state room, where she found Estelle waiting.

The maid’s eyes widened at the sight of Hannah and her windblown, disheveled appearance.

“Lady Hannah, whatever happened to you?” Estelle looked appalled, but Hannah had no desire to explain herself. Nor did she want a word of this spoken to her mother.

Ignoring the question, she said, “I ordered you to look after Mrs. Turner, but you neglected your duty, it seems.”

Excuses stammered from Estelle’s lips, but Hannah had endured her fill of them. “Enough. Go and help Mrs. Turner prepare for bed.”

The maid cast a glance at Michael, and he stared back at Estelle, until she returned her attentions to Mrs. Turner.

Hannah was about to help them, but the lieutenant refused to surrender her wrist. Instead, he led her into the dimly lit hallway, forcing her to follow him around the corner to a spot hidden from view.

Keeping his voice in a whisper, he leaned down to her ear. “Whatever possessed you to do something so dangerous?”