Smuggler's Kiss

by Marie-Louise Jensen

  ‘Good,’ Will said. He picked up a broom from just outside the door and handed it to me. ‘First, you are going to clean up the mess you’ve made.’ I glared at him, while he waited. I had no intention of demeaning myself. ‘I would get on with it if I were you,’ he advised unsympathetically. ‘For there’ll be no food for you until it’s done.’

  ‘You won’t dare to starve me!’ I retorted angrily.

  Will raised his brows and looked at me in incredulous silence. I knew that he was right; there were many men on board who’d be more than happy to let me starve. Furiously, I snatched up the brush and carelessly swept the glass into a pile. Then I picked it up, piece by piece, taking care not to cut myself, and threw it into the bin Will offered me. ‘You’ve missed a bit,’ Will pointed out. His eyes were glinting now, I suspected with amusement. I picked up the chunk of glass and threw it in with the other broken pieces.

  ‘Satisfied?’ I demanded.

  He shrugged. ‘It’s your cabin, and your feet that will get cut if you leave shards lying about,’ he said cheerfully. ‘You should be thankful to have a private cabin. Two men have had to give up that privilege to accommodate you, you know.’

  I shrugged. ‘Well, I could hardly sleep with the rest of you, could I?’ I pointed out ungratefully. ‘And I didn’t ask to be here.’

  Will sighed. ‘Follow me,’ he said. ‘I’ve another task for you.’

  I rolled my eyes and got unwillingly to my feet to accompany him. The sun was setting in a blaze of reds and pinks in the west, as I emerged onto the deck. I paused, looking about me in some awe. It was a truly stunning view. I caught hurriedly at the door as the ship pitched. There was no land in sight; only a rolling green swell as far as I could see in every direction. There was a definite chill in the air and I shivered a little after the relative warmth of the small cabin.

  Once I’d got my balance, Will led me to a bucket and a heap of crumpled fabric lying in the prow of the ship by the foremost mast. I recognized my gown. ‘What?’ I asked, looking up at Will. ‘It’s ruined.’

  ‘Wash it,’ he ordered.

  My jaw dropped. ‘Me?’ I gasped. ‘Me, wash my own gown? That’s servants’ work.’

  ‘I told you, you were spoiled,’ he said curtly.

  ‘It’s not a matter of being spoiled,’ I objected. ‘That’s insulting. I’m not a washerwoman.’

  ‘You are now,’ Will said with a grin. ‘You’re anything I say.’ It was obvious he was enjoying himself. I clenched my teeth together and looked hopelessly out at the endless sea.

  ‘It needs rinsing,’ he said. ‘To get the salt water out. Otherwise as you say, it will be ruined.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ I snapped at him. ‘I don’t want it; I have no use for it and I’ll never wear it again.’

  ‘Wrong on two counts,’ said Will with a grin. ‘We have a very fine use for it and for you. And you’ll be wearing it tomorrow night.’

  I lifted my hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘Very well, but explain.’

  ‘Wash the gown first,’ Will said. He retreated to the side of the ship, leaning against the rail at his ease, watching me. His smugness annoyed me.

  I looked down at the tangled heap of gown reluctantly, then sighed, bent and picked it up. Or at least, I tried. I was amazed at how heavy the gown was now that it was drenched through; at the reams of fabric that it consisted of, all of which trailed onto the deck, sodden and dripping with sea water. It smelled of sea water too. I tried unsuccessfully to stuff it into the bucket, but the more I pushed, the bigger and more unwieldy the gown seemed to become. I shoved hard, and water squirted up and drenched the sleeves of my shirt.

  ‘You might want to roll up your sleeves,’ said Will politely, and then turned away to hide his laughter. I could see his shoulders shaking. Angry that he hadn’t warned me sooner, I yanked at my soggy shirt sleeves. Clearly, I was the evening’s entertainment. Will wasn’t the only one watching my humiliation, nor was he the only one openly enjoying it.

  Being the source of so much amusement made me determined to spoil the men’s fun by completing my task successfully. I fought with the gown and the water, dipping and squeezing the train and the bodice. I unpeeled the sodden petticoats and washed each one separately; that way, they were less of a challenge than the gown itself. Finally, I rinsed the veil. I only found out after I’d torn the hem just how delicate the lace was when it was wet.

  At last I stood, wet through and panting with exertion, the whole pile of fabric rinsed. Will nodded nonchalantly towards the lowest rigging. ‘You can spread it out to dry there,’ he said, as though I hadn’t done enough work for one day. ‘There are pegs in the bag tied to the lowest rope.’

  I was out of breath, my arms were aching and I was really hungry, but I wasn’t going to tell him so. Instead, I did as he said, pegging out my hated garments on the ropes. It wasn’t as easy a task as I’d expected, as they bunched and dragged on the ropes, threatening to tear again.

  But at last it was done, after a fashion. I sighed and dropped my weary arms to my sides. Will surveyed my handiwork.

  ‘Clumsy and untidy,’ he said blightingly. ‘If you were a servant, you’d be sacked.’

  ‘But I am not,’ I said. ‘Nor do I have any expectation of becoming one.’

  He regarded me enigmatically, as though about to speak, but then shrugged. ‘You’ve earned your dinner now,’ he said. ‘And then we’ll talk.’

  Over a bowl of savoury stew with dumplings, I listened to what he had to say. ‘I’ve been put in command of this action,’ he told me. ‘And that includes being in charge of you tomorrow. I don’t relish it, but you may as well make yourself useful.’

  ‘What action is this?’ I asked.

  ‘We’re going to an empty house,’ Will told me. ‘Everyone knows it’s haunted; that’s why it’s deserted and useful to our landing team as a hiding place. But, most inconveniently, the ghost hasn’t shown itself for several years now. People are starting to venture into the grounds again. People that include the local customs men. We’ve even heard rumours a buyer was looking at it; a buyer who is not a friend to the Gentlemen. We need to set that to rights.’

  I looked at him suspiciously, half-remembering Jacob’s speech the other night. ‘Just how shall we do that?’ I asked. ‘Find the ghost and persuade it to show itself?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid, Isabelle. There is no ghost. You and I do not believe in such apparitions. But many of the country folk do, and so we will give them a ghost.’

  It was the first time he’d acknowledged his own background. I wanted to question him, to ask about how he had ended up with a crew of smugglers, but his expression was forbidding, so I refrained.

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ I said instead, with a slight shiver. I wasn’t quite sure that I agreed with him about not believing in ghosts, although I wasn’t going to admit it. ‘The ghost was a girl who died in mysterious circumstances. And I am to be she.’

  ‘You have a certain quickness of understanding,’ Will conceded. ‘It makes up a little—a very little!—for your grave faults.’

  ‘I don’t admit that I have any faults.’

  ‘Of course you don’t. I doubt very much you even recognize them. It’s what makes you so unbearable,’ retorted Will indifferently.

  I was silenced. There was no doubt he meant what he said. Will was the only man aboard this ship who shared anything with me—background, education, class. And he hated me. I felt shame and humiliation creep into my cheeks and turned away to hide it.

  ‘Nice haircut, by the way,’ remarked Will.

  I put my hand up to touch my ragged hair and thought how much I hated him back.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The evening was moonless and overcast with rain misting in the autumn air. It was a complete contrast to the bright, sunny day that had preceded it. I shivered a little as I crouched in the damp rowing boat that was taking me and Will to the beach. I could make out the waves breaking on the sand ahead
of us. Behind us The Invisible loomed, awaiting the return of the boat. I was looking forward to setting both feet on dry land again and had some secret hope of making an escape.

  Will shifted restlessly beside me. In his hands was a sack containing my gown, a length of chain, some rope, and a flask of liquid courage.

  The previous night, having sailed westwards up the channel, we’d lain off a dark and rocky stretch of coast. Two crew members had gone ashore to spread tales of ghosts ready for our escapade. They hoped to whip up an audience for the haunting.

  The boat lifted in the waves and then dropped, crunching gently onto sand. Will jumped out into the foam and hauled the boat a little further in. He turned to me. ‘Come on,’ he said impatiently.

  I stood up gingerly, clinging to the edge of the boat, waiting to be helped. Will stood back without offering. Hard-Head Bill was holding the oars and ignoring me.

  Feeling aggrieved, I struggled to get one leg over the edge of the boat, but then pulled it back as a wave washed under it.

  ‘Dear Lord, give me patience,’ exclaimed Will rolling his eyes.

  ‘A gentleman would assist a lady,’ I said crossly.

  ‘You aren’t a lady any more. I’ve told you that already. You’re a crew member and need to learn to behave like one. Now get out of that boat!’

  I struggled out over the side, crying out as the waves washed over my feet, and stumbled up the beach onto the dry sand. Will pushed the boat back out, and then stomped off, leaving me to follow him as best I might. My borrowed, ill-fitting boots were soggy now.

  We were on a narrow, sandy beach. Low sandstone cliffs ran along the back of it with trees growing at their foot. Out to sea to our left I could see some bright white cliffs and beyond them, white rocks rising out of the sea.

  ‘Are they not bringing the brandy ashore here then?’ I called to Will who was still striding ahead of me. He whipped round and pressed a hand over my mouth.

  ‘Keep your voice down, you stupid girl!’ he muttered angrily. He cast an uneasy glance around him. ‘Don’t you understand?’ he hissed in my ear. ‘The rumours of ghosts will have brought the Preventives over here. Which is what we want. Meanwhile the men will run the goods elsewhere in safety tonight. But we don’t want them to hear talk of … for the love of God, Isabelle, if you have to talk about the goods at all, you say Cousin Jacky.’

  I nodded obediently and he released me. ‘You are a liability,’ he muttered. I shrugged. I really didn’t care.

  ‘What are Preventives anyway?’ I asked.

  ‘That’s our name for Revenue officers.’

  ‘I thought you called them Philistines?’

  ‘Preventives, Preventers, Philistines or just damned interfering scoundrels. They are all in the service of His Majesty’s Customs or Excise.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said, digesting this. ‘So we are a diversion tonight?’ I asked.

  ‘Something like that.’

  We climbed a path off the beach up a sloping green hill. From the top, I could see a vast area of scrub, low trees, and water to our right. ‘What is this godforsaken place?’ I asked. ‘And who is there to see or care about a ghost here?’

  Will paused and glanced back at me. ‘That is Studland Heath,’ he said shortly. ‘Its very remoteness is useful to the Gentlemen. But it’s the village we’re heading to now.’

  As we approached the houses, the short day was fading. Smoke was rising from a couple of cottages and a few lights twinkled in the deepening dusk.

  Will vaulted over a gate into a meadow with cows in. I paused and fumbled at the gate, unsure how to open it and reluctant to enter a field of cows at all.

  ‘Just climb over it,’ sighed Will. ‘Can you at least try to bestir yourself? A lame snail could make swifter progress.’

  His words stung me. ‘You’re unreasonable. No one told me I’d be climbing gates into fields full of beasts.’

  ‘And no one said you wouldn’t be. Give me patience! I’d rather have anyone else for a companion but you.’

  ‘I’d rather walk with Hard-Head Bill than with you,’ I retorted with a scowl. ‘Is it the black hair that makes you so bad-tempered?’

  Will put his hand up to his hair. He had either dyed it or he was wearing a convincing wig, I wasn’t sure which. His eyebrows too had been darkened and there was a mole on his nose that had not been there before. He was wearing the rough smock and waistcoat of a farmer. I would barely have recognized him. I wondered why he had disguised himself. Perhaps it had something to do with the haunting.

  ‘Just hurry, will you?’ he ordered. ‘Or the building will be haunted by the body of a girl in breeches and not a bride at all.’

  Ignoring his threat, I followed him in silence past a small village church built of grey stone and up a lane to a tumbledown old house. It was clearly abandoned. Weeds ran riot in the neglected garden and there were gaping holes where windows had once been. It looked like a face with empty eyes, staring at me in the dusk.

  Will forced open a creaking, broken door into what must have once been the kitchen. Pieces of broken furniture lay scattered about. The room was dirty and smelled of mice.

  Will abstracted my gown from the sack he’d been carrying and threw it to me. ‘Time to transform yourself,’ he whispered. I caught it and glared at him. ‘Don’t worry, I’m going,’ he taunted. ‘I’ve had a bellyful of being your maid!’

  He left and I began to pull the gown out of the sack, dreading the task ahead. I struggled out of the repulsive breeches I’d been wearing for the past few days and into the bride gown. Patches of it were still damp and it clung clammily to my skin. Putting it on once more, this time alone in the dirt and squalor of a ruin, raised all sorts of strange emotions in me. I remembered how I’d felt last time. Not overjoyed precisely. But excited, hopeful. And now? I was helping to protect a gang of thugs engaged in an illegal trade. My fortunes had fallen below what I could have believed possible.

  I’d tied on my hoops and my petticoats as best I could and donned my gown before Will appeared. I looked over my shoulder at him, half afraid to ask him to hook up my gown behind. Luckily, he stepped up behind me without a word and began to fasten it. When it was done, I turned and found he was offering me a small bag. ‘What is it?’ I asked.

  ‘Chalk, to whiten your face. At the moment, you look to be in excellent health. We need you to look dead.’

  I accorded his joke a small smile. Tentatively, I dipped my fingers in the chalk and smeared the dust onto my face. It felt slightly greasy and unpleasant. Will shook the bag a little. ‘We don’t have all night,’ he said.

  I took a handful and rubbed it all over my face, working it into the skin, rubbing it down across the portion of my chest that was exposed too. I even rubbed it over my hands and forearms.

  Will looked at me critically. He produced another small bag and dipped finger and thumb into it. ‘Soot,’ he explained in answer to my puzzled look. ‘To make you look really scary if they get up close.’

  With a few deft touches of his thumb, he smoothed the soot under my eyes. He was gentle for the first time since I’d met him, and the action brought unwanted tears to my eyes. I blinked them away, reminding myself he hated me. His touch might be gentle but it certainly wasn’t tender. He stepped back and looked critically at me again. ‘Good. You’ll do now. Do you have the veil?’

  Veil in place, arranged over my tumbled, cut-about hair that most definitely did not resemble a bride, I clumped outside after Will. ‘No one who catches a glimpse of these boots will believe I’m a genuine ghost for one instant,’ I muttered. ‘Or at least not a ghost with the slightest fashion sense.’

  Will chuckled. It was the first time I’d heard him laugh in a way that wasn’t mocking. ‘They’re hidden by the gown and the long grass,’ he said after watching me walk. ‘If you’re really concerned about it, you could take them off. A barefoot bride would be quite poignant, you know.’

  I remembered walking into the sea just a few nights
ago, all hope gone, my shoes left behind me on the beach, and swallowed hard. ‘No, I thank you,’ I retorted, trying to shake off the powerful memory. ‘It’s freezing cold, the grass is wet and probably full of slugs.’

  Will merely shrugged. ‘As you wish. We’re probably going to have a few locals on their way to the local tavern looking over the wall there,’ he pointed to a gap in an overgrown wall. ‘You need to appear from the outhouse over there,’ he pointed to the doorway we’d emerged from, ‘and flit along the lawn here. You can flit, can’t you?’

  ‘Being a ghost isn’t something I’ve a vast deal of experience of,’ I told him acidly.

  ‘Clearly you never had a governess you needed to get rid of,’ Will responded.

  ‘I didn’t need to play the ghost.’

  ‘I bet you didn’t. Frightened her off without dressing up at all, I should think.’

  ‘I find I can dispense with your observations on my character,’ I told him, provoked to anger. ‘You don’t know me.’

  ‘I don’t need to and I don’t want to.’

  ‘That’s entirely reciprocated, I assure you. I’d be very pleased if I never set eyes on you again. Now are we going to play this ghost or are we going to stand here bickering all night like children?’ I demanded.

  Will’s eyes glittered in the darkness as he stood facing me. He was breathing heavily and I realized he was as angry as I was. I just wasn’t sure why.

  ‘How do I even know I can trust you with this?’ he asked at last. ‘How do I know that you won’t deliberately sabotage this whole thing to expose us?’

  I didn’t reply at first. I couldn’t deny that the thought had crossed my mind. I summoned up a wan smile. ‘Can you imagine the scene?’ I asked as lightly as I could. ‘A ghost chasing some terrified local farmers, begging for help?’

  Will continued to regard me steadily with those hostile, glittering eyes until my own dropped, half-ashamed of what my plans had been. ‘This isn’t a game. We hold many lives in our hands.’