He put his ear against the door and heard her deep breaths whispering against the polished wood. “Summer?” he begged low, desire refusing to be denied.
Her eyes slitted like a cat’s when it was being stroked and the corners of her mouth lifted in a smile of triumph as she tiptoed across the cabin and slipped into bed.
By morning it was as if there had never been a storm. The English Channel seemed calm as a duck pond and she surmised they must be somewhere off the Isle of Wight. She hummed a little tune as she bathed and dressed in the pale lavender silk with its prim high neckline. She heard a tap on the door and called, “What is it?”
“Breakfast, m’lydy,” came the voice of Mr. Cully. She unbolted the cabin door for him and said, “I could have gone to the galley. Thank you very much. When I’ve finished, I’m going up on deck for some fresh air.”
Mr. Cully shook his head. “Wouldn’t do that, m’lydy … trouble brewin’.”
“What sort of trouble?” she asked.
He shook his head again. “Best stay syfe in yer little mouse’ole.”
“What’s up?” she demanded.
He hesitated then blurted out, “A floggin’ … Cap’n found a man drunk on watch.” He bobbed his head and ducked out.
Surely Helford wouldn’t order a man flogged for taking a drink? Especially after the horrors of sailing through that storm. She pushed the food aside and reached for her cloak.
When she arrived on deck, she realized with horror that she was too late. Not only had Helford ordered the flogging, he was carrying out the punishment himself. The sailor had been stripped to the waist and lashed to the mast. His back was already bloody. Helford stood wielding a bull whip, immaculately garbed in navy breeches and snowy shirt and stock. His long black hair was clubbed back into a cue as neatly as if he wore a wig.
Outraged, she ran across the deck and cried, “Stop!”
He looked at her with disbelief. “Go below!” he commanded.
“No!”
His eyes narrowed dangerously. “No? On my own quarterdeck you dare to say no?”
She swayed forward and he saw that she was close to fainting. A foul oath fell from his lips as he threw down the whip and strode to her side. “Cut him down,” he called over his shoulder, then he took hold of her wrist in what felt like an iron vise and half dragged her belowdecks to his cabin. The cabin door crashed back against its frame.
“What in the name of God was that all about?” he demanded. His eyes were cold and hard and glittering with anger.
She stepped back from him, half afraid. She had stopped the whipping, so there was no point in exacerbating his temper. Breathlessly she said, “A flogging is so brutal.”
“He got off easy … I should have hanged the bastard; and will next time.”
“For drinking?” she asked hesitantly.
“He may get blind drunk anytime he likes, except under my command, when he is on watch. Our lives and my ship are in the hands of my sailors when they are on watch. I was the most detested officer in His Majesty’s navy because I insisted on discipline. Soon I’ll be the most detested man in Cornwall. I’ve been appointed high commissioner and magistrate to put an end to the blatant smuggling. The trees will soon bear the fruit of my hangings.” He stopped and bit his lip.
“I shouldn’t have interfered,” she murmured. It was the closest she’d ever come to an apology.
Suddenly he saw himself through her eyes and he winced inwardly. A well-bred lady who had lived a sheltered life in the country must have been shocked to the core by what she had seen up on deck.
Summer was glad she had held her tongue. She had almost flung at him the terrible accusation that because she had bolted her door against him he had vented his spleen on the first hapless sailor he had encountered. Now she realized she had had nothing to do with it.
“Lady Summer, I should never have exposed you to such brutality. Do you forgive me?” She nodded slightly.
“Show me you forgive me by taking supper with me this evening. I have to make port in Plymouth this afternoon, but I will have you home by ten o’clock tonight.”
“I am happy not to have to spend another night aboard,” she said softly.
“And supper?” he pressed.
“If you insist, Lord Helford,” she conceded graciously.
When she returned to her cabin, she removed the gray velvet cloak and sat down upon the cushioned window seat to think. She had a few very tricky problems which she must work out if she was not to drop her candy in the sand. No doubt remained that Lord Helford was in pursuit of her … that was good. She had only slightly less than a month before the mortgage came due again … that was bad. He was already deeply attracted to her and couldn’t hide the fact that he longed to woo her … that was good. She was a smuggler and he was the law … that was bad.
