"My lady?"
Brie hadn't noticed the bustling entrance of a young maidservant, but the rosy-cheeked girl was trying to get her attention.
"Begging your pardon, milady, but his lordship bid me to ask you to hurry. 'Tell my wife,' he says to me, 'that the Falcon sails within the hour.' I've brought hot water and your clothes."
Bewildered, Brie gave the girl a blank stare. "My . . . my clothes?"
"Yes milady. His lordship explained to me how you were traveling to meet him here, and how you were set upon by ruffians who made off with your coach. Bless me, but the highways aren't safe anymore."
As the maid busied herself lighting a brace of candles, Brie glanced around the bedroom, noting the cheery fire burning in the hearth. The shirt she had been wearing last night was gone, but the pile of broken glass was still on the floor, reminding her of the bottle she had thrown at Dominic. "Er, yes, thank you . . . r
"Daisy, ma'am." The girl smiled broadly and bobbed a curtsy. "At your service. Will your ladyship be requiring anything else? I have to run down and get your breakfast."
"No . . . thank you, Daisy. That will be fine."
When the girl had gone, Brie got out of bed, draping a sheet around her naked body, and crossed to the window to pull the curtains aside.
It was barely dawn, she realized with a start. The morning was still gray and gloomy for the sun had not even risen. Then Dominic could not have sailed! And the maid had said—
Not yet daring to draw any conclusions, Brie inspected the items the girl had brought. To her surprise, she found an elegant travelling suit of forest green merino, along with a hooded cloak trimmed with luxurious sable. There were also appropriate accessories to the outfit, including gloves and kid half-boots, and a small dressing case containing toilet articles. Brie found herself blushing at the sheerness of the undergarments and wondering how Dominic had managed to come by them so early in the day, but she was too grateful for his thoughtfulness to be anything but pleased.
Finally conceding that Dominic meant for her to accompany him, she let relief and elation sweep through her. She didn't understand why he had changed his mind, but whatever his reasons, it didn't matter. She wanted to go with him, wanted to be with him. It seemed that she had no pride or shame where Dominic was concerned. But he had been kind to find a proper outfit for her to wear—and to let the servants think she was his wife. His wife, Brie murmured, and then quickly shook her head. She would be a fool to read anything at all in the tale Dominic had fabricated to explain her presence at the inn. But at least he had been considerate of her reputation.
She washed and dressed quickly, finding to her surprise that her new clothing fit superbly. When Daisy returned, Brie asked for help with the more troublesome buttons, then ate a hasty breakfast while her hair was brushed till it shone.
"Cor, you're beautiful, you are, milady," Daisy said as she finished pinning the auburn tresses in a smooth chignon. "His lordship will be mighty pleased, that he will."
Brie wasn't so certain, but she thanked the girl before going downstairs to join her alleged husband.
She found the coach waiting in the yard while Dominic impatiently paced the cobblestones. When he gave her a swift. appraising glance, Brie thought she saw approval in his eyes, but her tentative smile was met with cold silence.
He had shaved, she noticed as he handed her into the coach, but the shadows under his eyes suggested he hadn't slept well, and the furrows between his dark brows indicated he was suffering a headache as a result of all the wine he had drunk the night before. Indeed, his expression was so forbidding that Brie decided now was not the time to thank him for providing her clothes. She even held her tongue when Dominic gruffly informed her he would ride in the box, although she couldn't help wondering if he were doing it to spare himself the pleasure of her company. If so, it was hardly a propitious beginning for a journey.
His surliness annoyed her, but during the short drive to the docks, Brie reminded herself just what she owed him. Not only had he rescued her from those horrible men the previous evening, but he had let her come with him this morning, in spite of his obvious reluctance. Perhaps she should make allowances for his foul mood, she decided. It was no more than Dominic deserved if he were feeling the effects of a hangover, but she could repay his kindness by overlooking his churlish behavior.
Her resolve was put to the test almost immediately, for when the coach drew to a halt, Dominic came to the door and told her to remain seated. "Jacques will escort you to the ship," he said brusquely. "He will be along when he has seen to the horses."
Brie stiffened at his tone, but she held back the retort that sprang to her lips. "Very well, if you wish it," she replied meekly.
Dominic's features darkened into a scowl. "The docile lamb hardly suits you, ma belle. I liked you better when you showed some spirit."
Brie's eyes kindled, but before she could reply, Dominic had turned abruptly and was striding away. She stared out the window after him, thinking that it was just as well she had no riding crop with her at the moment.
She was not obliged to wait long, for the burly Jacques appeared almost at once. "If you will come with me, mademoiselle," the coachman said as he took her dressing case. "Monsieur instructed me to show you to your cabin." When Brie hesitated, betraying her indecision, Jacques lowered his voice to a murmur. "Mademoiselle, you must not be distressed. He has a temper, that one, since he was a leetle boy, but he is a fine man. I think you will do him much good."
In spite of the Frenchman's presumptuousness, Brie could not be affronted, for she read only kindness in his intent. She responded with a grateful, albeit doubtful smile.
If Jacques' words had bolstered her flagging courage, the sight of the graceful ship riding in the harbor, with its flashing white sails and elegant lines, made her spirits rise even further. The Falcon was Dominic's yacht, Brie was told as Jacques assisted her on board. The two-masted schooner had been built for speed but carried its own cannon, and the captain and crew—some of whom Brie saw as Jacques led her below deck— had been in Lord Stanton's service for many years. Brie was tempted to ask why his lordship felt it necessary to retain such an expense or why they needed cannons on board, but she decided her curiosity might be misconstrued.
When Jacques conducted her to a small cabin which he said had been allotted for her use, Brie was surprised to find it quite comfortable and rather elegant. Going to the porthole, she settled herself in the window seat where she could watch the numerous other vessels in the harbor and listen to the raucous cries of the sea gulls.
She could easily tell when the ship got underway, for the waves slapped against the hull with greater force and the rolling motion of the Falcon increased drastically. Although it was not her first time on board a ship, it was her first seafaring experience, and the rocking floor had an unsettling effect on her stomach. Having read somewhere that fresh air helped to cure seasickness, Brie wished she had thought to ask for permission to go up on deck.
r /> She soon had another reason for wanting to leave her cabin; she was used to an active life, and with nothing to occupy her time, she shortly became bored. After nearly an hour of fighting nausea and restlessness, Brie decided to risk Dominic's disapproval and go topside. Retracing her steps along the companionway, she made her way up a steep flight of steps and found herself on the gleaming, well-scrubbed deck. A cold sea breeze stung her cheeks and whipped her skirts around her, but once she was in the open air, her queasiness disappeared. She found an unobtrusive spot on the aft deck where she could watch the receding shores of England shining golden in the early morning sunlight.
No one bothered her, and after a while Brie found herself paying more attention to the fascinating activities of the crew than the scenery. All of the sailors were busy with something—raising and lowering sails, securing lines, calling out signals, or climbing the rigging. Brie's heart jumped to her throat when she saw a young man slip and make a grab at one of the topmast stays, but he didn't fall. The next instant he was scurrying up the ratline like a monkey, as if he hadn't just nearly missed a thirty foot plunge to his death.
Dominic was also on deck, she noticed. He was near the helm, talking to the gray-haired man at the wheel, but he seemed to be ignoring her presence entirely. Brie could not dismiss him as easily. He looked so vitally masculine, standing there with his feet apart, well braced, and his hands stuffed in the pockets of his greatcoat as the wind ruffled his ebony hair. Just looking at him brought a tingle to her skin. His body was superb, muscular and hard to the touch, and he knew so very well how to use it to make a woman . . .