A Most Unconventional Courtship

She watched in anguish as Chance spun round on his heel, searching the cabin for cover. There was a door in the panelling across the room; he took one stride towards it and the handle of the main door began to turn. In one fluid movement he dropped to the floor and rolled under the bunk. Alessa kicked frantically at the rumpled bedding on which she was lying and one edge fell to the floor. It was the best she could do. The door opened.

Chance pressed himself back against the wall, ignoring the pain in his wrists in his effort to keep as flat as possible. Above him he could hear Alessa thrashing around on the bed. He licked dry lips and set himself to breathe evenly and softly.

‘My dear Alessa, what are you doing?’ It was, as he had expected, Zagrede, his voice amused as he strolled across the floor to stand beside the bed. ‘Why, you look a positive hoyden.’ His voice dropped a tone. ‘Delicious.’

‘I wa

s trying to get free.’ Alessa’s voice sounded as though she was speaking between gritted teeth.

‘But why, my sweet?’ The Count sat on the edge of the bed, making it dip perilously low. ‘You know you cannot escape.’

‘I wish to relieve myself,’ Alessa announced in tones of freezing dignity. ‘Have you no recollection of how long I have been tied up here?’

‘Oh.’

Chance bit his lip in an effort to suppress a snort of laughter. The Count had obviously not thought of that, and his attempts at smooth seduction were hardly suited to a lady who was demanding to use the privy.

‘But of course, I will untie you at once.’

‘And send me a maid with a chamber pot,’ Alessa demanded. ‘I have no desire to be dragged through this ship to whatever squalid arrangements your crew uses.’ Oh, well done, if she is hoping to distract Zagrede from thoughts of seduction, she could hardly do better.

‘No need for that.’ Chance rolled over slightly and squinted from under the bed. The Count was walking towards the other door. He threw it open and announced, ‘You see, your own private facilities, my dear.’

‘Then will you kindly untie me so I can use them?’

‘Of course.’ There was a pause, sounds of rustling, a thump and a grunt. ‘What did you do that for?’ Zagrede stood up, sounding indignant.

‘To stop you gazing at my bosom,’ Alessa retorted frigidly. ‘Will you kindly help me up?’

Chance watched her feet as she approached the door and threw it open, exposing the entire space, no larger than a cupboard, to view. ‘It will do, I suppose, but there is no soap and no towel.’

‘I will send for some.’

‘Please do so. I am sure my aunt has something suitable in her baggage—I have no wish to use whatever Albanian goat’s-fat concoction you have on board.’

There was a moment’s hesitation, then the Count strode to the cabin door and opened it. ‘I will lock this door behind me, the porthole is screwed shut, and, believe me, I will reopen the door with some caution, so please do not trouble yourself to stand behind it, waiting to hit me with the ewer.’

‘I am flattered that you think me capable of such daring,’ Alessa countered. ‘Now, will you please go away and give me some privacy!’

The Count was hardly out of the door before Chance was rolling out from under the bed. He dived into the privy cupboard and Alessa pulled the door shut.

‘Quickly, turn around and let me untie your hands.’ He turned as best he could in the tight space and felt her kneel down behind him. The urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her until she fainted was instantly suppressed by the pain as she began to worry at the knots. Doggedly Chance fixed his eyes on the view from the porthole—an expanse of sea with no sign of land or other ships—and endured. Alone, he would have sworn ripely to relieve his feelings: now he knew he would rather die than show weakness in front of her.

The relief as the knots gave was replaced with lancing pain as the circulation began to flow again. He twisted round, hauled Alessa unceremoniously to her feet, and stifled his groans against her mouth.

‘Stop it,’ she hissed. ‘He will be back in a moment.’ He watched in admiration as she struggled with the knots they had so recently tied and pulled off her gown.

The outer door opened, there was the sound of approaching footsteps and Alessa opened the door just far enough to put out one bare arm. ‘The soap and towel, if you please, Count.’

‘My dear, allow me to assist you.’

‘I have absolutely no need for any assistance, thank you.’ Chance held his breath as she withdrew her arm sharply, a linen towel and a tablet of soap clenched in her fist. She banged the door shut and Chance breathed again at the sound of an indulgent chuckle from the other side.

‘I shall return in fifteen minutes.’

They waited, squashed together until the outer door closed. Alessa peered out suspiciously. ‘He really has gone. Now, out you go.’

‘Why?’ Chance poured water into the tiny basin, plunged his hands into it with a whistle of discomfort, then dragged a handkerchief from his pocket and tore it in two. He began to wrap one half around each wrist, and offered the loose ends to Alessa to knot.