Anna was disappointed and almost tempted to tell him that she would stay on the island overnight and walk back across the sands in daylight. Yet if she were to accept his offer, then at least she would be that much closer to France. ‘You are all kindness, Jack,’ she said lightly. ‘I will bear in mind what you say.’
Within the hour Jack was helping Anna up the rope ladder dropped over the side of his ship. He was conscious of her warm softness beneath his hands, but was determined to ignore the physical effect she was having on him. ‘Do not look for luxury or comfort aboard my ship,’ he said shortly.
Anna called down over her shoulder. ‘I assure you I am not so ignorant that I would expect luxury on any ship. I will regard this voyage as part of my pilgrimage and the discomfort the penance I must pay for my sins.’
Suddenly she became aware of the astonished face of a bewhiskered mariner waiting to help her aboard. She thanked him prettily as she held out a hand to him and he assisted her over the side and on to the deck.
As Jack handed up her saddlebags and lute, aware of the effect she was having on at least one of his sailors, he could only hope none of them would fall in love with her. The last thing he wanted on his ship was lovesick sailors. His expression was formidable as he stepped aboard himself. Immediately, he saw that Anna was introducing herself to his master mariner, Peter Dunn. Hastily Jack took over from her.
‘This is Lady Anna Fenwick, who is kin to my stepsister, Mistress ap Rowan. We will land her on the south coast before sailing for Calais. You can weigh anchor now,’ he ordered.
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Fenwick,’ said Master Dunn, obviously trying to conceal his surprise at her presence.
Anna thanked him for his welcome. She could feel the deck shifting beneath her feet and it gave her an odd feeling. She noticed chickens in coops on the deck and thought they seemed completely unbothered by their surroundings. It was not the first time she had sailed on a ship and she prayed that she would be as good a sailor this time as when she and Giles had visited the town of Caernarfon on the Welsh coast. Of course they had been fortunate with the weather and she could only hope the sea would remain calm as it was at that moment.
She was suddenly aware of Jack at her shoulder. ‘I’ll show you to my quarters, Anna. I’ll remove my possessions and you can make yourself at home.’
She glanced up into his strong scarred features. ‘I did not intend ousting you from your sleeping quarters.’
He said brusquely, ‘Where did you expect to sleep, Anna? Under the awning with the men?’
She was taken aback by his comment, thinking that it was uncalled for. She might have said so, if he had not picked up her saddlebags and turned away. She tucked her lute under her arm and trailed after him, across the deck in the opposite direction from the fo’csle to a deckhouse. She was aware of the men’s eyes upon her and hoped it was untrue that many mariners were superstitious about having a woman aboard. If so, she was fortunate indeed that none knew of the accusation levelled against her of being a witch. She felt a sinking of the heart, thinking of Will’s deviousness, and Marjorie, who had lost her life because of his lies.
As soon as Anna stepped inside Jack’s quarters, she knew what he had said about there being a lack of comfort and luxury was true. The cabin was cramped and contained only a bunk bed above a couple of drawers with brass handles. She presumed the hinged drop piece of wood would serve as a table and there was a chair screwed to the floor.
‘I do not envy the life of a mariner,’ she murmured.
‘There are worse conditions for a man to live in,’ said Jack, his expression austere.
Due to the smallness of the cabin, their bodies were almost touching and she felt a sudden breathlessness, aware of that mixture of male muskiness and sandalwood in a way that she had not been on their walk across the island. She inched backwards and the wooden rim of the bunk caught the back of her knees so that she toppled on to the bed.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Jack, bending over her.
‘I just lost my balance,’ she replied.
‘Hopefully, you’ll soon get your sea legs.’ He offered her his hand to help her up.
She took hold of it and was yanked to her feet. Her breasts brushed against his chest and a thrill raced through her. Although the cabin was dimly lit, she could see an expression in his eyes that took her completely unawares. Neither moved. She could feel the thud of his heart echoing the beat of her own. Her lips felt dry and she licked them nervously. He lowered his head. For a moment she was convinced he was about to kiss her and was shocked to realise that she would welcome his kiss. Then he released her hand and left the cabin. This time when Anna fell back on to the bed, she remained there, hoping he had not considered her behaviour unseemly. Yet she sensed he had wanted to kiss her and that made her feel less guilty.
Jack drove his fist against the main mast, then moved away when he became aware of a couple of sailors’ eyes upon him. How could he have almost succumbed to Anna’s charms so swiftly? Thank God he had not kissed her. What was it about her that made him feel like this? In all the years of his captivity he had resisted his baser instincts and refused to take a woman. It had not been easy when his body had cried out for release but he had sworn to be faithful to Monique’s memory, at least until he had fulfilled his oath to kill her murderer. If he managed to do so and survived the encounter then he planned to marry a woman of sense, who would not expect a love match.
He glanced up at the billowing sail before going over to the side of the ship. He stared at Hilbre Island receding into the distance and wished he had left Anna ashore when he had had the chance. There was no question of going back now. He would have to live with the decision he had made and was going to have to make sure not to be alone in her company again. With God’s good grace and a fair wind they should reach the south coast within a sennight. He would land her at Plymouth harbour and see her safely to one of the religious houses. Then he could concentrate all his will on avenging the deaths of Monique and his son.
He allowed his thoughts to drift to his conversation with Davy when they had met in the hall at Rowan Manor. He had told Jack that the Comte de Briand was alive, but absent from his chateau in Maine. King Edward’s invasion had ensured his joining the acolytes surrounding Louis of France in Amiens. The news had not pleased Jack because it was in Amiens that he had rented a house for Monique after she had discovered herself with child and fled from her husband. Now, it seemed, Edward’s army was camped outside its city gates which, surprisingly, were left open. Apparently, there was much coming and going to and from the city. Tournaments were taking place outside its walls to keep the English knights occupied and competitions at the butts were organised for the archers to practise their skill as well.
‘It is a strange war that both kings are waging,’ Jack remembered saying, puzzled by the situation.
‘Aye,’ retorted Davy. ‘But it does mean that you will be able to enter the city without any trouble.’
Jack had agreed, wondering what Davy would have thought if he had told him the whole truth, instead of only that the Comte de Briand had been the man responsible for selling him into slavery and that he intended avenging that dastardly deed.
Davy’s parting words had been, ‘Don’t make me regret helping you to settle old scores with the cur, Jack. If you were to lose your life now after coming back from the dead, I’d be in dire trouble with the family.’
Jack wished he’d not had to involve Davy in his plans, but that recurring bout of fever had left him too weak to confront the Comte in those early months after his return to Europe. Originally he had not planned to return to England before facing the Comte; now he was glad he had been reunited with his twin. Jack had seen for himself Matt’s wife and his children, as well as his sister, Cissie. She and her husband, Rory Mackillin, and their two sons, had sailed from Scotland to Yorkshire in order to check that all was well with him. He had put on a good act and they had gone away content.
/> Jack rested his chin on his folded arms and stared moodily out over the shimmering sea. He had wished that he and Monique could have wed. Instead they’d had no choice but to live in mortal sin. Yet he considered that the church’s sin was greater by countenancing marriages between children and old men. Jack ground his teeth, remembering when they had first made love. Monique had spilled many a tear after revealing the terrible truth about what her castrated, former philandering husband had forced her to do. She had begged Jack to forgive her, but he had assured her that there was naught to forgive. How could he hold her accountable for that cur’s bullying ways? After that, they met clandestinely until Monique became pregnant.
He felt weary and the noise of the swishing waves against the ship’s hull began to lull him into a somnolent state. He imagined he could hear music and dreamed he was inside Amiens cathedral in company with Monique and hundreds of others, listening to the songs of the great eleventh-century visionary, poetess and composer, the Abbess Hildegard of Bingen.
‘She makes a lovely noise does the lady,’ said a voice close to his ear.
Jack forced open his eyelids and yawned. He could still hear music! Where was it coming from? Then he remembered Anna had her lute with her in his cabin. Why had he not thought that she might actually be skilled on the instrument? As for her singing…
He began to listen in earnest. She had a pure sweet voice that unlocked something in his soul and he knew this would not do. Moving away from the side of the ship, he went over to the deckhouse and called, ‘Cease that caterwauling!’
Instantly he heard the sailors murmuring and staring at him as if he had lost his wits. Maybe they were right and his memories were driving him mad. But the singing had not stopped and the musical notes reminded him of dancing water. Had she not heard him or was she pretending not to have done so? Tears filled his eyes as a vision of his three-year-old son splashing in the pool with the spray from a fountain falling on his naked shoulders came to mind. He knew he had to stop her or the music would completely unman him.
He opened the cabin door and popped his dark head inside. ‘Anna! I asked you to stop!’ he growled.
Her fingers stilled on the strings of the lute and her voice trailed off in mid-note. ‘Do you not know this melody? I consider it most tranquil. I first heard it in Chester after a performance of one of the mystery plays.’
‘I know it,’ he said tersely.
She smiled. ‘I thought it likely that you would because Kate told me how much you enjoy music. I remember that you play an instrument yourself, don’t you? Is it the drum?’
For a moment he did not know how to answer her questions. Her words were reminding him of another time that was lost to him. Happy family times in Yorkshire. If he were to start believing it was possible to find such joy in music and family again, then it would prove even more difficult for him to hold to his course.
‘That was a long time ago,’ he said testily. ‘I would rather not be reminded of it. If you could resist playing your lute while aboard this ship I would appreciate it.’
‘If that is your wish,’ said Anna, her voice subdued. She set her lute aside. ‘Is there aught else you would rather have me do? Although we had a cook at home, Kate made certain I learnt to make a few simple dishes.’
Jack experienced a mixture of guilt and disbelief. ‘You’re a lady now. It would be unseemly for you to perform such menial tasks. Besides, we have a ship’s cook.’
‘Then I am glad that I brought my tapestry work with me.’ She paused. ‘Tell me, Jack, what do you do to pass the time when aboard ship? If you have Master Dunn to deal with the everyday running of the vessel, it must leave you with time on your hands.’
He looked startled. ‘Not at all. He consults me on disciplining the men and I share other responsibilities with him. I know how to navigate and can read the stars. My brother-in-law, Lord Mackillin, made certain I knew all that was involved in sailing a vessel, just in case I ever found myself in a situation where I was minus a master mariner or a couple of crewmen.’ He bowed his head politely in her direction. ‘Now if you will excuse me. I’ll go and see what Cook is preparing for our meal this evening.’
‘I hope it’s appetizing, whatever it is,’ she murmured. ‘It seems a long time since I ate the bread and honey on the way to West Kirby.’
He, too, was hungry and relaxed his stern mood enough to assure her that as it was only a few days since they had taken on fresh provisions and no doubt some of the men had been fishing, supper should be adequate.
As he wrenched the door open, he called over his shoulder, ‘We’ll dine out on deck whilst the weather is fine.’
She nodded, wondering what it was about her music that had disturbed him and why he no longer played himself. In the early days of her bereavement she had not had the heart to touch her lute. Would the time ever come when she could ask him why he no longer received pleasure from music? She sighed. What should she do next? Her tapestry work? No. First she must change out of her damp gown. She should have done so earlier, but the need for the calming influence of music had won out over common sense. She had but two gowns in her baggage, one black, one grey. Both would be creased but there was naught she could do about it. Placing her lute against the door, she proceeded to change out of her ruined gown.
Supper did prove satisfying, hunger lending an edge to their appetites. Both Jack and Anna ate their fill of fried herring with peas and onion served with oaten bread, followed by a sweet cheese flan. They sat on kegs either side of a table that consisted of a plank atop a couple of barrels. The food was washed down by ale for Jack and elderflower wine for Anna. They ate in silence, both unwilling to say aught that would annoy the other.
The sun had set by the time they had finished eating but, as the sky still showed streaks of gold, silver and apricot in the west, neither was in a hurry to retire to their sleeping quarters. By then the wine had mellowed their moods. ‘This wine is quite delicious,’ said Anna, after several cups of the brew. ‘Where did you purchase it?’
‘It was a gift from my brother,’ Jack replied. ‘Apparently his wife puts the servants and children to gather the blossoms in June. This is last year’s brew and quite potent.’ He reached out a hand for her cup. ‘I deem you’ve probably had enough by now, my lady.’
She frowned and held her cup against her. ‘That is for me to decide. Why do you now call me my lady instead of Anna? Of course it is more acceptable than being called a witch or a wanton, but it is formal for two people who’ve known each other for a long time.’
He told himself that perhaps he was instinctively trying to put some distance between them, but he could not say so to her. ‘You were a girl when last we met and we have seen little of each other since. I realise now that perhaps I should have called you my lady from the moment you told me who you were.’
She frowned. ‘There is no need for such formality, Jack, so you must call me Anna. Owain and Kate often spoke of you. Also, when your sister and her husband visited or your brother came, they talked of you and kept your memory alive. You were to me a great adventurer and I was sad when the news came that you had disappeared.’ She could scarcely see his expression, but the way his shoulders stiffened was enough to convince her that he was still reluctant to talk about those times.
‘It is time you went to bed,’ he said, despite his emotions being stirred by her revelation.
She nodded, then said sleepily, ‘But perhaps, Jack, during my time on this ship…’ Her voice trailed off and her eyelids drooped.
He stared at her, wondering if she had fallen asleep. If so, then he would have to carry her to bed. The thought of her soft yielding body in his arms was enough to arouse him and proved sufficient to help bring him to his senses. He leaned forward and shook her. ‘Anna, wake up! You were saying that perhaps during your time on this ship…’
She half-opened her eyes and gazed at him from beneath sweeping eyelashes. What had she been going to say? Ahhh, she remembered.
‘Perhaps we can get to know each other better, Jack.’
‘Maybe,’ he replied in a clipped voice, although he had no intention of doing so for that way temptation beckoned; rather he said that word to placate her and to bring the evening to an end.
Chapter Five
Anna huddled inside her cloak and gazed into the mist. It was several days since they had set sail and during that time she and Jack had hardly spoken to each other. The mood of contentment she had felt that first evening aboard the Hercules had evaporated. It was obvious to her that Jack intended keeping her at a distance.
She went hot and cold with embarrassment, remembering his refusal to enter the cabin with her later that evening. This despite her telling him that her invitation was purely so he could collect his belongs from the drawers beneath the bunk. She might as well have saved her breath. He had said that the drink had gone to her head. Surely she must realise that with the eyes of the sailors upon them, he must do all that was proper to protect her reputation. She had only partly believed him. From the fiery expression in his eyes it seemed to her that he believed she had seduction in mind.
Snatches of conversation went round and round in her head. Maybe Will saying to Jack that she had murdered her husband and had a lover had stuck in Jack’s mind despite all he had said to the contrary. She was certainly still having difficulty trying to forget such an accusation. Yet she was at least assured that, for the moment, she was safe from Hal and Will and in the care of a man, who, despite his stern manner, had appointed himself her protector. Yet he had admitted to not wanting her on his ship. It was obvious he was not going to waste time talking to her and could not wait to be rid of her.
Her ears caught the mournful tolling of the ship’s bell and it felt as if it echoed her mood. If only the mist would lift and they could get on with their journey, but at the moment they were becalmed off the coast of Pembrokeshire. She prayed for a breeze and that the sun would break through the mist. She feared that, despite the bell warning of their presence they could be in danger of colliding with another vessel.
June Francis Page 7
