Hours later, Garrick headed to Tully’s appropriated cabin, his bones heavy with exhaustion, yet filled with an elation that made his steps light.
He’d found the evidence he needed to prove the countess guilty. Letters. At least ten of them, all of them addressed to the duke and all of them asking for his help in taking care of her “problem.” And though the boy wasn’t mentioned by name, the letters, combined with the duke’s testimony, should be enough to convince the earl.
He smiled grimly. And the duke would testify. If he didn’t, Garrick would deliver the bastard to the magistrate himself. And if it was a choice between swinging from the gallows for engaging in pirating or cooperating with Garrick, there was little doubt the duke would chose to cooperate to save his own miserable hide.
Of course, he would have liked to have killed the bloody bastard, but he’d taken great delight in pitching Tully and his crew overboard in his place. Lucy—his brave, courageous, incredible Lucy—had cheered from the rail as they were dropped into the ocean one by one.
Garrick’s smile spread. Little hoyden. She was as fearless as she was clever and never had he met a woman more suited to his taste.
But he couldn’t have her.
He clenched the handle on Tully’s cabin door. The thought rose bile in his throat.
Blindly, he stepped inside the musty-smelling cabin. A huge table stood before him. He went around it, wanting only to duck beneath the skull archway and strip away his dirty clothes and try to decipher why he felt so bloody odd when he thought of Lucy.
“So you’re going back to London?”
Garrick jerked around.
“And here I thought you might not succeed. I’m glad to see I was wrong.”
Garrick’s eyes narrowed. The voice belonged to Arlan, no doubt of it, but where was he?
“Over here.”
Garrick scanned the interior of the cabin, his gaze landing on the table.
“Like my new outfit?” Arlan asked, ruffling his gray feathers, his claws anchoring him to the back of a chair.
Garrick blinked, then opened his eyes. The bird was still there.
“Birds are one of the few earthly forms guidance counselors are allowed to inhabit,” Arlan explained. “Usually we choose doves, but I wasn’t in the mood for cooing.”
Garrick shook his head. If he’d been less exhausted he could have come up with some sarcastic remark. Just now he didn’t feel like it. “What do you want?” he asked instead.
Arlan sidestepped a few paces, his talons click-click-clicking on the wood. “I’m here to give you a warning, Garrick.” The words were uttered in a serious tone; unfortunately, the effect was spoiled by his head tilting to the left. Arlan raised a claw and tilted it back “Hate when that happens. Braaah.” A wing rose to cover his beak “That, too.”
“Warning? About what?” But he knew. Bloody hell.
Arlan turned so one eye faced him. “There. Now I can see. I’m here to warn you about your feelings for Lucy.”
“I have no feelings for her.”
Arlan squawked, his wings beating like a bird ofprey’s. “Wrong, wrong, wrong,” he cried when he’d gained control of himself. He pointed a wing tip at Garrick. “The Chief knows these things, Garrick, you can’t lie. That’s why He sent me. He wanted me to talk to you.”
“Very well, you’ve talked. Now leave.”
“I’m not leav—braaahh—” Arlan shook his head. His feathered chest expanded with an exasperated breath. “I’m not leaving until I’ve said what I’ve come here to say.”
“Then say it.”
“Fine. I will. Goodness, sometimes I wish I weren’t an angel. Calling you a horribly crude word would feel good right now.” He wagged a wing at him. “Don’t try to deny it, Garrick. We know you’re developing feelings for the girl.”
“I am not,” Garrick spat out, “developing feelings for her.”
“Are too.”
“Ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous?” Arlan asked. “I’m not the one talking to a bird.”
Garrick narrowed his eyes.
“Anyway, you didn’t let me finish. We know you’re growing fond of her.” Arlan held up a wing. “Don’t interrupt. Just let me finish. You’re down to fifteen days—”
“Fifteen days?” Garrick protested.
“Yes. Now, I don’t see any problem with restoring the boy to his rightful place in that amount of time. But, Garrick—and this what I came down here to tell you—ifyou don’t watch yourself, you might find yourself distracted by Lucy. You can’t afford to be distracted right now. Ignore your earthly feelings. Do what you came here to do, nothing more. And I mean nothing.”
Garrick crossed his arms in front of him, refusing to say a word.
“Keep your distance from her. Don’t let her near unless you absolutely have to. And above all, don’t kiss her again.” Arlan punctuated the end of his sentence with a pause.
“Is that all?” Garrick asked.
“Yes.”
“Good. Leave.”
Arlan wagged a wing tip at him. “I’ll leave, Garrick, but I’m telling you to be careful. Lucy has a long life ahead of her. You don’t. It’s best you remember that she’s fated for someone else.”
Fated for someone else.
The words still echoed in his ears when a knock sounded on his cabin door not two minutes later.
“Garrick?” a familiar, tentative voice called.
Lucy. Ah, God, Lucy.
“Garrick, are you there?”
He almost didn’t answer. He almost took the coward’s way out, but he knew what he must do; delaying it would only cause more pain in the end.
Still, his feet felt heavy as he walked toward the door, and when he reached for the handle, his hand shook He stared at his fingers for a moment before clenching them, then forced them to unfold and open the door.
“Garrick,” she gushed, working through the crack and throwing herself in his arms. “Oh, Garrick, I thought you might be angry with me.”
It was harder than he thought. Automatically, his hands lifted to stroke her back, only to fall to his sides. He clenched his eyes closed, knowing what he must do, hating to do so.
“Garrick, whatever is wrong?”
He opened his eyes. Lucy stared up at him, concern clouding her features. She worried her bottom lip.
“Lucy,” he moaned. What to say? What to tell her? “You must leave.”
A red brow arched. “Leave? Why?”
Because if she didn’t, he knew he’d pull her into his arms and do something they’d both regret; because with every breath he took it grew harder to resist her; because, God help him, he loved her more than he thought it possible to love a woman.
“Because I need to plot a course to London.”
Her face cleared. She smiled. “May I help?”
“No!” And if the word was a bit more strident than he’d meant to make it, so much the better. He watched as her eyes grew wide. Immediately, he wanted to apologize, but he didn’t. If nothing else, his stay in the hold had made him realize how little time he had left. He would be gone soon, and the sooner he started preparing Lucy for that moment, the easier it would be on her.
“Lucy, please understand,” he said, the confusion and hurt in her eyes was nearly his undoing. “I need to concentrate.”
To his surprise, her face cleared almost instantly. He had no idea why, but he knew it most likely boded ill for him.
“So I distract you, do I?” she asked, taking a step toward him.
Damn, Garrick thought, she would take it the wrong way. He backed up, nearly groaning when her hips took on a seductive sway as she stalked him toward the bed. “Lucy, don’t.”
Her lips tilted in amusement. “Why, Garrick, are you afraid of me?”
Yes, he silently answered. God, yes, he was afraid of her, of how much it would hurt to leave the thoroughly engaging woman who was only inches away from him now, her sweet smell rising up to excite his sen
ses. She was everything he’d wanted and more.
Her hand rose. He released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding when she gently reached out and shoved a lock of his hair away from his face. But instead of her arm dropping back to her side, she playfully drew a finger down his cheek until she found his lips, her touch as light as a wisp of air. Gently, suggestively, she encircled his mouth with a soft finger. Their eyes met, hers blazing with an inner fire which he longed to be scorched by. “Lucy, I mean what I say.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that you do,” she whispered with a sly look. “But will you be able to stop wanting to touch me? That is another question entirely.”
“You don’t understand,” he answered, knowing what he must do, hating to do it.
“Garrick,” she squeaked as he reached down, scooped her up, and tossed her over his shoulder. Shegiggled, then said, “Now this is more like it.” But her laughter slowly faded when, instead of turning toward the bed, he strode toward the door.
“Garrick—” she warned, obviously surmising his intent.
He ignored her and ducked under the skull archway, made his way around a chair, then came to a halt before the battle-scarred door. She started to struggle in earnest when he took a firmer grip on her behind and reached for the handle.
“Garrick, I warn you. I’ll not forgive you for this.”
The light spilling out from the open door allowed Garrick a perfect glimpse of Lucy’s startled and furious gaze as he gently set her outside his door. Before she had a chance to dart to her feet, he turned and strode back to his cabin, slamming the oak door in her face.
It was without a doubt the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.
19
“Lucy, you are absolutely, positively the most insane person it has ever been my misfortune to know,” Beth announced the next afternoon. The sun, which was beginning its descent into the horizon, cast a crimson glow over the ship, turning Beth’s blue dress a vivid shade of purple which suited her pale complexion to perfection.
Lucy shrugged, ignoring the comment. How could she explain to Beth, who had been so very verbal in her disapproval of her behavior, that she was terrified that once they hit dry land, Garrick would run in the other direction? He had barely acknowledged her presence since their time in his cabin. She wasn’t sure what she’d done to anger him so, but suddenly she was terrified that if she didn’t seize this chance to find out, she might never get another opportunity.
“I’m doing this, Beth. And you can’t stop me.”
Beth’s hopeful look faded. She nodded, then glanced around the deck furtively, as if searching for someone else to help convince her friend. But Lucy had taken great painsin timing the exact moment to strike. Currently, Garrick was engaged in holding the wheel; the only way he’d be able to see them was if he suddenly developed the power to see through wood, for he stood in a location not visible from where they were. The rest of the crew was engaged in their duties, the men far too busy sailing a ship twice the size of the Swan, with half the crew, to pay them much heed.
“You can’t stop me, Beth. He needs me. I know he does. What’s more I know he wants me.”
Beth colored. “I do not even want to know how you know that.”
“Practice.”
Beth held up her hands. “I don’t want to know, Lucy.”
“And the book,” Lucy added. “You should study the book, too. Might come in handy one day.”
“The only book I shall study is how to pick smarter friends.”
“And the next book I shall study is how to pick supportive friends.”
Beth placed her hands on her hips. Lucy tilted her nose in the air.
“You’re quite mad.”
“About Garrick, yes.”
“And what if he boots you out?”
“He won’t.”
“You hope.”
“I know.”
Beth released an exasperated sigh. Lucy ignored her, flicking her thick braid over her right shoulder andchecking to ensure the knot around the rail was tight. The wind might pose a bit of a problem, she thought, but she didn’t think it would jostle her around too much. Thank God the weather was fine, for she didn’t fancy lowering herself down the back of a ship in surging seas.
“And what if you fall?” Beth refused to give up.
Lucy shrugged again, making sure the rope around her waist was tight. “I won’t fall, Beth. And if I do, just tell Garrick to turn the ship around and fetch me.”
“Fat lot, that.”
Lucy looked up, and couldn’t help but smile.
Beth saw it and glowered. “What am I supposed to do?” She pretended to tap an invisible person. “Excuse me, Garrick?” she asked, pasting a prim look on her face. “Lucy fell into the ocean while trying to sneak into your cabin so she could seduce you.” She pointed with her thumb over the railing. “She’s the bobbing head with the shark fin next to it.”
Lucy snorted in laughter, then said, “Really, Beth. Don’t be melodramatic. I’ve scaled worse than this at boarding school.”
“Yes, but I hardly think this compares to sliding down a drainpipe!”
“Shhh. It won’t take but a minute. And all you need do is hand me that grappling hook so I can break the glass, then lower me my pails of water.”
Beth placed her hand against her forehead and closed her eyes. “If I were smart, what I would do is run to Garrick and tell him what you plan,” she mumbled.
“Who said you were smart?”
Beth’s eyes snapped open. “That does it! I’m leaving.”
“No, Beth, don’t.” Lucy grabbed her friend by the sleeve and nudged her back around. “I was only poking fun. You know I need your help. The door to Garrick’s cabin is locked. Not only that, but with the wheel so close, he’s sure to see me if I try to sneak in. Please, just lower me down so I can perch on the ledge. It should take me no more than two seconds to break the glass, then enter.”
“You’ll fall.”
“No, I won’t.”
Beth shook her head. “I do not believe this is happening. You want to throw propriety to the wind and seduce a man you’re not even married to. Good heavens, Lucy, have you lost your mind?”
“Propriety be damned,” Lucy spat. “You know I’ve never cared for it. Garrick is the man I love.”
Beth eyes had widened, but then the look in them softened. “Lucy, please. I beg you. We’ll be in London in two days. Try to soften his heart on dry land.”
“I may not get the chance on dry land, so I’m doing this now.” That said, she took a deep breath, peeked down at the sea below, then said a quick prayer that this would work.
The Revenger left a trail of foam in its wake. That trail seemed a long way down all of a sudden, Lucy thought. Wiping her sweaty palms on her breeches, Lucy turned back to her friend. “Remember, if anyone should ask, I’m helping Mousad prepare the evening meal.”
“And what exactly do you plan to do if you reach your destination alive?”
“If I told you, you’d blush scarlet.”
“I don’t suppose it has something to do with the water you’re heating on the stove … water you want me to lower and which could be used for a bath?”
Lucy nodded determinedly.
Beth eyed her as a rector would a doxy. “Hmm, yes. So I thought.” Her brows lowered into a frown. “Well, I won’t soil your ears with the word I’d like to call you.”
“Beth, I’ve got more important matters on my mind then being branded a harlot.”
“Well, it was nice knowing you. Harlot.”
Lucy bit back a smile and threw the excess rope at her feet over the side. It was a long line, one which dangled all the way to the sea below, the hemp skipping and bobbing in the wake of the Revenger like a kitestring. Lucy eyed it dubiously, then slowly and carefully climbed over the rail.
“Luuucy,“ Beth moaned.
“It’s all right, Beth.” But she couldn’t stop her arms from shaking as she perc
hed on the opposite side of the rail, her feet firmly planted between two posts. “Don’t look so frightened. If I fall, the rope around my waist should stop me before I hit the water.”
“Yes, but with your luck it will probably wrap around your neck in the process.”
“Beth, really,” Lucy admonished. She shook her head, already more nervous than she cared to admit, and the last thing she needed was Beth’s pessimistic attitude. Peeking down, she gauged the ledge she was aiming for to be only three feet or so below where she stood.
It was a simple plan, for the row of windows was rightbelow the deck. Unfortunately—as often was the case with one of her “plans”—climbing to the ledge beneath the windows looked much easier than it actually was. Hanging out over the back of the ship, her posterior bobbing up and down, the roar of the ocean nearly as loud as the roar in her ears, was one of the most terrifying experiences of her life. It didn’t help that Beth was peering down at her as if she were about to witness an execution, nor that the wind, as it swooped off the deck above her, kept blowing strands of hair in her eyes. It took every nerve she had—and some she didn’t know she had—to pry one white-knuckled hand off the rail, then grab the vertical post beneath it.
Desperate times called for desperate measures.
“Lucy,” Beth moaned again as she slowly lowered herself.
“Be quiet, Beth. I’m concentrating.”
Pointing her booted foot toward the ocean, Lucy sank lower and lower. Her toes felt around for purchase as both hands clutched the rope.
By the time her feet finally found the ledge, she had to take a moment to calm herself, her breath labored as she hung off the back of the ship like a burr on a dog. Only when she felt sufficiently in charge of herself did she scrunch down a bit to peek through one of the windowpanes. The glass reflected her frightened and pale face before it dissolved into a perfect view of the cabin beyond.
Empty, thank God. She’d not known what she’d have done if she’d found Garrick staring back at her. Probably let go of the rail in fright.
She straightened, her arms already growing strained, her hands numb, she grasped the rope so tightly. Taking a deep breath, she examined the glass for the best way to break through it.
My Fallen Angel Page 17
