A loud, splintering sound rang out above deck, followed by many shouts and the scrambling of feet. The floor beneath Cassandra vibrated when she heard the loud crash.
“Miss, we’re going to die!”
“No, we’re not.” She said the words to herself as much as to Lucy.
Men began running past her doorway in a loud flurry of cursing. Someone knocked on her door. “Miss Franklin, you must come now.”
She jerked the cabin door open. The first mate stood in the hallway, his face pale. “Follow me to the lifeboats, Miss Franklin.”
“Let me gather my belongings.”
“There isn’t time.” He waved his arms for Cassandra to hurry.
“Come, Lucy,” she said, grabbing her shawl. It wouldn’t keep her warm in the driving rain, but Mama had made it. She couldn’t leave without something of her mother’s with her. She tied it around her shoulders.
The first mate hustled them up the steps to the deck. The boat listed to starboard making the ascent very precarious. Cassandra slipped on the wet surface before a sailor caught her. He helped her to the edge of the deck where men were scrambling over the side.
“I can’t swim, miss,” Lucy cried.
“We’ll be safe in the lifeboat,” Cassandra reassured her. Doubt filled her at the veracity of her words. A small vessel would stand little chance of remaining upright when the large ship couldn’t win the battle.
She took a seat with Lucy beside her, her eyes wide. The boat rocked horribly, and Cassandra gripped the side.
“One more,” came a cry from above.
A body was lowered in a canvas sling of sorts while two men on the rope ladder guided it down. The men in the lifeboat shifted to make room in the center for the man.
“Is he dead, miss? I can’t be next to a dead man. It’s not right.”
“He’s unconscious, ladies. He won’t be disturbin’ you none.”
Cassandra peered around Lucy. Her heart lurched. There lay the handsome gentleman who’d fallen into her cabin, Lord Spalding. Now he lay still, his face peaceful in his sleep. He would stand no chance of surviving if they turned over. Neither would Lucy, for that matter. Thankfully, Mama had allowed Cassandra to swim in the beautiful blue waters near their home in Jamaica. She couldn’t swim far, though.
She shuddered and pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders. Such maudlin thoughts had no place at such a time. She bit back a smile in spite of it all. There was barely room to breathe, much less carry bothersome worries with her.
The crew rowed into the breaking waves as the ship sank behind them. Cassandra clung to the side of the boat to keep from being thrown overboard. Lucy clung to her arm.
“Never fear, missy,” a gray-bearded man in front of her said. “We’ll see you safely to shore.”
The black waves met the dark clouds, so she had no idea how the men knew where to guide the boat. A giant swell lifted the bow and almost flipped them. She and Lucy screamed. Somehow the craft cleared the crest, only to meet another wave.
Wave after wave rose beneath them, and several times the boat nearly capsized. Each time, her fellow passengers attempted to lean in the opposite direction from the tilt of the boat.
The unconscious man in the center rocked back and forth, not waking. As terrified as Cassandra was for her safety, she couldn’t stop thinking of the others. How many of the sailors could swim? Was Lucy the only one among them unable to swim? Would one of the sailors help her?
Another swell tossed the bow upright. Amidst shrieks and yells, everyone was thrown into the water. Cassandra kicked her way to the surface, her skirts tangling in her legs and weighing her down. Gasping in a huge breath, she looked around for Lucy. Looked for the boat.
“Help! Miss Cassandra, help!” Lucy’s voice came from her left.
Cassandra swam in that direction, but a man made it there first. Lucy flailed about and threw her arms around the man’s neck. He floundered, bobbing up again for air, then sinking with Lucy. Before Cassandra reached them, the two disappeared below the rough surface.
“Lucy!” She kicked harder, trying to reach the pair in time. “Lucy?” Tossed about, Cassandra wasn’t even certain where they’d gone under. There was no hope unless the sailor freed himself before it was too late.
A wave broke over her, knocking her deep beneath the water. Cassandra fought against the rough water and the weight of her clothing to break the surface. She gasped for breath, then saw something floating a short distance away and swam to it. Her limbs were tired, heavy, and ached as she kicked and stroked. Recognizing the capsized boat, she mentally pushed herself to go on.
Two men clung to the sides, and another lay across the rounded bottom. One man swam out to meet her and pulled her to the vessel. “Hang on tight, now.”
“Are we the only survivors?” she asked. She constantly shivered now, her teeth chattering.
“I don’t see the others, but some were on another boat and might be afloat still. With luck, they’ll find us and help us right the boat.”
“My maid…she went under with the sailor who tried to rescue her.” Her chest tightened, knowing what that meant.
“I’m sorry, miss. We’ll do our best to see that you make it safely to shore.”
“Yes, miss. As long as we have the boat to cling to, we’ll be safe.” The second man’s voice rang with false hope. She appreciated his encouragement, even though she knew how unlikely it was that any of them would live.
The unconscious man lay with his head on her side of the boat. His white shirtsleeves and pale skin were all she could make out in the darkness. She touched his cheek, which was as cold as she felt. How long could they survive in the frigid water, if the waves didn’t take them?
The winds died down, and the water smoothed somewhat as the night went on. The weight of Cassandra’s gown made her arms grow tired from trying to hold herself afloat. She rested her cheek against the cold wood, fighting drowsiness. Each time she dozed, she awoke with a jolt when her face hit the surface of the water.
The man on her side of the boat grabbed the back of her bodice and helped her to lie on the boat next to the unconscious man. Unconscious…or dead? She shook so badly that she couldn’t even tell if he shivered beside her. “Thank you,” she told the sailor.
He said nothing.
Lifting her head, she looked for the second sailor. He wasn’t on his side. She prayed he was behind her where she couldn’t see.
Her body shuddered uncontrollably, the wind cutting through her wet gown. Her muscles were tense, taut from the cold. She was afraid to relax, afraid to sleep, afraid she’d slip beneath the surface and wake up to see her mother in heaven.
Silence. Other than the water lapping against the boat, there was no sound. Nothing with which to distract herself to stay awake.
As she got colder and colder, she lost the will to keep fighting sleep and closed her eyes.
MASQUERADING AS A MISS
CHAPTER TWO
Cassandra woke up when her feet hit something, and the boat nearly slipped from beneath her. The soft light of dawn allowed her to see land.
Land.
She’d survived. Her feet tapped against a rock in the water. She slowly lowered herself until she found the ground. “We’re here.” She listened for any response. “Hello?”
Still draped across the boat, Lord Spalding didn’t stir, and no one answered.
Pushing the boat through the water, she got it as far up the beach as possible, which was barely above the line of waves with the tide out. There was no sign of footprints in the sand, so they were the first to reach the shore there. With her hands on her hips, Cassandra surveyed the small cove. The sand turned to rock toward the edges of the beach. The cliffs above the rocks were too steep to climb. A grassy hillside above the sand looked to be her only way out of the cove. She should be capable of climbing the hill to locate assistance.
First she needed to do something about the gentleman in case she didn’t
return before the tide came in. She placed a hand against his cheek, which felt like ice. Moving her fingers beneath his nose, she felt the slightest bit of warm breath. “Well, my lord, what shall we do with you?”
He was quite large, with broad shoulders and long legs. Even his hands dwarfed hers. Grasping both of his wrists above his head, she tugged, but he didn’t budge. She tried bracing one foot on the boat and pulling. That had the same result. There was no way she’d get the lower half of his body up and over the boat.
Walking to the other side, Cassandra pulled on the hem of his gold waistcoat. She couldn’t tell if he’d actually moved, or she’d only adjusted his clothing. His trousers, tailored to fit his muscular legs, were her last chance. She couldn’t keep her gaze off the wet fabric that clung to his exquisite form. Shutting off those thoughts, she grunted as she pulled on the hems of his trousers. He didn’t budge.
The bow of the boat had dug into the sand when she’d pushed it ashore, so it wasn’t moving either. Perhaps when the tide came in, it might float the boat further up the beach. More likely it would float back out to sea.
She walked up the beach, noting the tide line in the sand, far above where the man lay on the upturned boat. There must be a way to get him to safety.
Returning to the boat, she sat near the man’s shoulder, brushing his hair back from his face. Memories of what she’d felt while in his arms in her cabin warmed her. She shook his shoulder. “Lord Spalding, you must wake up. I can’t pull you up the shore, and you’ll be carried off when the tide comes in.”
He didn’t respond. She shook him again. “Please wake up.”
He looked so innocent lying there, his skin as pale as the marble statues she’d seen in some of the plantation houses in Savanna-la-Mar. His features were as handsome as those statues, too. Much more handsome than most of the men she knew back home. His pale lips were full, unmoving. She longed to kiss them, just to see how kissing felt.
How ridiculous. It would be like kissing a dead man—although she’d never kissed a dead man, so she couldn’t say for certain. She hadn’t kissed anyone. She didn’t want her first kiss to be with a man who was unaware of it, did she? No. But he would never know. And it was likely the only time she would kiss a titled gentleman. She could see what a kiss felt like and it would be her secret.
She shook his shoulder once more. When there was no response, she bent and pressed her lips to his, holding her long hair out of the way. His lips were as cool as his cheek and as unresponsive. Disappointment filled her, only to be replaced by shame. Kissing a man who couldn’t give his permission had to be a sin.
It certainly wasn’t as enrapturing as it sounded in her books.
The breeze swept off the ocean, cutting through her thin gown. Cassandra shuddered. “Well, my quiet sir, as you will not wake, I must find someone who can uphold his share of the conversation.”
Freezing, hungry, and exhausted, she couldn’t fight the foolishness taking control. She curtseyed. “Good day, sir. I do hope we meet again.”
With her arms hanging heavily at her side, Cassandra trudged through the sand toward the rocks. Having lost her shoes in the sea, she gasped each time the sharp edge of a shell dug into her foot. The rocks themselves were much worse. They seemed to have only sharp edges. She was exhausted from her time in the water and pushing the boat ashore. Sitting to rest, she found the rocks no more comfortable. Slowly she made her way to the crest. A lovely green field spread in both directions, not a building in sight.
“Where do I go?” As she looked about, she saw a pair of birds dancing in the breeze. She decided to head in the direction they flew. She was as likely to find someone that way as any. Glancing back to check that the man still lay on the boat, she continued.
* * * *
Spalding woke slowly. The first thing he noticed was the lack of movement beneath him, and then the hard surface upon which he lay. Pushing himself upright, he groaned when a sharp pain stabbed through his skull. Tenderly prodding his head, he found a pair of goose eggs that continued to throb.
He was alone on a beach. How had he gotten there? He had no memory beyond being ill inside his cabin. Yet here he sat on an upended boat on some strange, deserted beach.
Then he saw footprints leading up the sand made by small, delicate feet. Who was she, and where had she gone?
Foggy images appeared in his mind. Being tossed about in his cabin. Rolling endlessly in darkness. And a mermaid kissing him.
That last proved just how scrambled his thoughts were. Still, he felt the warm touch of her lips on his, and strands of her wet, long blonde hair veiling them from the world. Her body had been green, deep emerald green.
The wind off the sea chilled him through his damp clothes. He needed to find shelter soon, a fire to warm him before he lost his wits entirely.
As Spalding stood, his wet boots tightened on his feet. He’d have numerous blisters by the time he reached safety. On the whole, that was far better than freezing to death.
He had to pause to rest repeatedly on his climb up the rocks. He could see no easier way to the top, so he trudged on. His feet hurt almost as badly as his head. When he nearly reached the grass, he leaned against a large, warm rock to let a wave of dizziness and nausea pass.
Voices chattered somewhere in the distance.
“Hello?” he called. Shoving himself away from the rock, he continued up the rocky hillside. “Hello?”
The voices grew louder, and he grew more frustrated. If only they’d stop talking long enough to hear him.
“Help! I need help, please.”
“Where are you?” came the response.
“Here.” He sat on a large rock and hoped they’d find him. “I am here.”
A man’s head appeared at the top of the hill. “This way!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Here, my lord, let me help you.”
With the man’s aid, Spalding reached the crest. He took the flask another man offered, gulping down the water. “Thank you. I feared I wouldn’t be rescued in time.”
A young woman approached, her damp, blonde hair hanging loosely over her shoulders. She wore a greatcoat many sizes too large for her petite figure, the open front revealing her clinging green gown. Her curves were ripe, even more luscious than he’d realized when they collided in her cabin. “My mermaid,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.
She shook her head. “You’re confused, perhaps from the blow to your head. I’m Miss Franklin.”
The men, farmers from the look of their rough, faded clothing, each placed one of his arms across their shoulders and gripped their hands together between them, giving him a seat to rest on. “We have a wagon not far from here,” said one.
Miss Franklin followed behind them. Spalding felt like a rag doll, unable to keep himself upright except for his arms on the shoulders of these burly men. The wagon on the narrow road was the most welcome sight he’d ever seen.
Once he was bundled into blankets in the bed of the wagon, Spalding fought to contain his shivers. Miss Franklin, nestled next to him, placed a warm hand on his cheek. “Their cottage isn’t far. We’ll have you warming by a fire soon.”
“Thaknkkk ykouk,” he said through chattering teeth. “The others…?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t seen anyone. Perhaps they came ashore on a different beach.”
He closed his eyes and said a quick prayer for Hallgrave. Hopefully, his valet had survived and had washed ashore on another beach. How lucky Spalding was they’d wrecked so near land. “Where are we?”
“Near Polzeath, sir,” said one of the men.
He had no clue where that was, but it didn’t matter, as long as he was able to warm himself and put on dry clothes. “Wherever that is, it’ll seem like heaven after the watery hell we survived.”
Even the rolling motion of the wagon couldn’t break Spalding’s relief. He would send word to his father to let his family know he was safe, then hire a coach in the nearest town of any size.
Turning his head slightly, he looked at Miss Franklin. “What is your destination?”
She patted her hip, then reached beneath the greatcoat to dig into a pocket of her gown. “Oh, dear. I’ve lost it. My great aunt’s address.”
“I will see that you have transportation to your aunt’s home. What city is it? We can enquire in that city to find the correct house.”
Her brow frowned and she shook her head. “Mama spoke once of Almond-something, where she grew up, and Gloucester.”
“What is your aunt’s name?”
Miss Franklin ducked her head. “I only know her as Aunt Wilhelmina. Mama wrote it on the paper she gave me before she died so that I could find her aunt. I was so distressed at losing my mother I didn’t pay much attention.” When she looked up again, her eyes were filled with tears.
“Perhaps your father’s family would be easier to find since we know your surname. Where do they live?”
“I never knew my father. Mama said he’d died before I was born. I grew up in Jamaica, so maybe he’s from there.”
Spalding shook his head. “This is a puzzle, isn’t it?” He tugged the blankets tighter. He was certain he’d never be warm again. At least he still lived.
Through the blankets, he felt the warmth of Miss Franklin’s body. Oddly the heat was more comforting than arousing. They belonged together. Opening his eyes, he saw her watching him with wide eyes, her face just inches from his. He imagined this was what it would be like to awaken next to his wife. He rolled slightly toward her, bringing their lips within reach—
What was he doing? Miss Franklin wasn’t his wife, nor even the woman he intended to marry. He must keep his distance, keep his wits about him, and return to the life he’d planned.
The wagon halted in front of a rather small cottage. A woman stood in the open doorway wringing her hands. “Did ye find him?”
Once Upon A Regency Page 44
