A rogue by night, p.8
A Rogue by Night, page 8
Katherine tied the rope around her waist in movements long remembered. She took a few deep breaths and stared at the surface rising and falling beneath her. Without giving herself time to reconsider, she dove.
She had, however, forgotten just how cold the water was. It stabbed at her everywhere, rendering her stultified and motionless for a fraction of a second. And then old instinct took over, and she pulled herself ever downward through the darkness, her eyes fixed on the brilliant sphere that hung before her eyes. It was always deeper than it looked, she remembered, and she forced herself to measure her motions.
In moments, she had reached the float. She slipped the rope from around her waist and looped it deftly over the glass sphere with old, practiced movements that hadn’t faded with time. By feel, she knotted it neatly to its tether and gave the rope two hard tugs before kicking upward, her lungs beginning to protest.
Her head broke the surface, and she sucked in a deep breath. The small boat was just in front of her, and she could see Hervey already hauling up the heavy load, hand over hand. Katherine stroked over to the boat, her teeth beginning to chatter, feeling unaccountably weary as she treaded water, waiting with her knife. She heard Hervey curse softly as he strained against the weight, and then she heard the bump of the tubs as they hit the hull of the boat. Quickly, she swam over and cut through the portion of net weighted to secure them. The stone weights fell away, sinking immediately, and Hervey hauled the net and the tubs into the boat. He offered Katherine his hand, pulling her back into the vessel with the same quick efficiency.
“Got it on your first go, Miss Kate,” Hervey said, sounding impressed. “Like ridin’ a horse, isn’t it?”
Katherine wrapped her arms around herself and hunched against the cool air. “Horses are warmer.” Another breeze caressed her skin, and the air seemed to shimmer and brighten. “Better hurry,” she said. “Wind’s picking up, and the fog will clear. I’d prefer not to be caught sitting out in the middle of this cove with a fortune of French brandy at my feet.”
“You and me both.” Hervey resumed his position by the oars and hauled.
The little fishing vessel leaped forward, wind now chasing them. On the starboard side, the cliffs loomed above, the crevices and crags much clearer than they had been only minutes ago. Katherine shifted, feeling dangerously exposed, even though the fog on the surface of the sea was still thick.
“I’ll take ’er as close to the caves as I can get,” Hervey said. He looked worried.
She tipped her head and scanned the tops of the north cliffs. Patches of green were now visible, as the sky beyond lightened further, silver starting to give way to blue.
“Hurry,” she urged. If there were soldiers up on the edges of those cliffs, if they had been detected, then they would be sitting ducks. Fish in a barrel.
“I’ll get—”
“Shh.” Katherine put her hand up, a sound that was out of place on the water reaching her ears. Bouncing across the surface, it was difficult to tell what it had been, where it had come from, or how far away it was.
“What do you hear?” Hervey whispered, going still.
Katherine shook her head. There. It came again. A dull grinding sound, followed by a muted splash. The sound of an oar rotating on its pin as the blade hit the water.
“We’ve got company,” she murmured, moving soundlessly to the port side, her eyes straining to see through the fog.
“Up top?” Hervey whispered.
Katherine shook her head. “On the water.”
“Shit,” Hervey swore.
Katherine knew as well as he did that there would only be one other person out on the water. No fisherman in his right mind would risk taking his boat out in fog like this.
Another gust of wind danced across the sea’s surface, and the fog dispersed, just enough for Katherine to see the unmistakable shape of a boat nearly the same as theirs, drafting low in the water under the weight of a dozen soldiers bristling with guns held at the ready.
A shout went up as the fog closed back in, but it was too late. They had been seen. And with only a single man at the oars, they were at a distinct disadvantage. Katherine’s heart lodged firmly in her throat. There came more shouts, and now the sounds of oars plunging into the water with hard frequency was audible.
A vision of Hervey Baker—a bullet hole in his barrel chest, his wife and children sobbing over his body—assaulted her.
Katherine whirled on Hervey. “Take the boat in. As quietly and as quickly as you can. Get it unloaded and get out of this cove.”
“Wait, what—”
She didn’t hear whatever he was going to say because she had jumped overboard and was underwater now, angling away from the boat and the beach. She surfaced, slapping her palms on the water and kicking furiously. Her efforts were rewarded with a frantic cacophony of shouts and orders and the sound of oars banging against the hull. They were reversing in her direction. Thank God.
Katherine treaded water, trying to control her breathing and trying to get her bearings. She looked up, focusing on the tops of the cliffs, just visible in the dissipating mist. She was much closer to the beach than she had thought, which was good news for Hervey and the rest of the men. Now she just needed to keep the attention on herself for a few moments more. And try not to drown or get caught in the process.
She started stroking toward the base of the cliff that jutted way out from the beach, her body rising and falling with the swells. The hissing of the surf as it broke and slid over the rocks became louder. Somewhere on this edge there was an indentation—an almost flat ledge of rock that she had swum to as a youth. Above that ledge, the sea had carved out a deep crevice. Almost impossible to see from the water, it was her only choice. Her only hope, really.
Even if she wasn’t trying to draw the soldiers away from the beach, she could not possibly outpace a boat full of men. If she swam deeper, closer to the mouth of the cove, there was a very good chance that the ocean would save the soldiers the trouble of shooting her. She was a good swimmer, yes, but not invincible. The sea was king, its justice impartial and instant, and she had seen far better swimmers than she drown from arrogance and recklessness.
Something slapped at the water close to her, and a sharp crack echoed above her head. Another smack, another delayed report. They were shooting at her. Shooting blindly in the direction of the noise she had made.
Katherine swallowed her terror and focused her concentration on the dark shape of the rocks just in front of her. She let the swells push her closer, trying not to fight the sea, trying not to tax limbs that were already heavy and sluggish with cold and fatigue. She was looking for a point, a jutting formation of rock— There. It suddenly loomed out of the fog before her, and she kicked hard, reaching out a hand to keep herself from getting pushed into it.
Beneath her touch, the rock was rough and covered with slippery vegetation. The swell dipped, and she was sucked around the side. Another bullet cracked off the face of the cliff above her head and sent fragments of rock raining down above her. She gathered her strength and made one more effort, trying to reach the ledge before the ocean pulled her away and out of its reach. Her fingers touched rock and then slipped away. She was going to get pulled out toward the sea—
A hand clamped around her wrist in a merciless grasp. She was unceremoniously hauled up and over the ledge, the rock scraping painfully at her legs. Had she not been so shocked and exhausted, she might have fought. As it was, she simply allowed herself to be yanked from the sea like a half-drowned mermaid.
Katherine was deposited on her rear, and instantly her wrist was released and a strong pair of arms snaked under her arms and across her chest. She found herself pulled to her feet from behind.
“We have to hurry,” a voice whispered in her ear.
A very familiar voice. Her head snapped around in shock and confusion.
“We’re losing the fog,” the Lord Doctor murmured against the side of her head.
His arms slipped from under her arms, apparently satisfied that she was steady enough on her feet. But then he grasped one of her hands with his and half pulled, half guided her across the ledge, farther up and away from the sea, the surf hissing around their ankles. He put his free hand over her head as they ducked beneath the overhang that Katherine remembered well. With an unerring sureness that no bloody Lord Doctor should have about coastal caves, the baron led the way deeper into the twisted shadows, not letting go of her hand as she stumbled on unfeeling legs.
The sound of her ragged, gasping breaths echoed off the surfaces around them, but she didn’t stop. Nor did she yank her hand from the Lord Doctor’s. There was a time for questions and a time for demands, and this was not it. Not until they were safe.
“Follow me.” She felt, rather than saw, the Lord Doctor turn as he led her even deeper.
Katherine wondered where he thought he was going. The wide crevice wasn’t that deep, and they were concealed as they were. Still, she allowed herself to be guided forward, her legs numb, the rock rough on the soles of her feet.
“Through here.” The Lord Doctor had stopped, urging Katherine in front of him. She balked at the darkness that lay before her, the light filtering in from the entrance not enough to penetrate all the way back here.
“Through where?” she managed through chattering teeth.
The Lord Doctor took a firmer grip of her hand, stepping in front of her, and once again guided her behind him. She felt the air change, the coolness replaced with a damper, more stagnant air, and the darkness became absolute. The back of the crevice as she knew it wasn’t a back at all, but a doorway to a deeper chamber.
Gently but relentlessly, he kept pulling her forward until they came to an abrupt stop. She stumbled into him, her muscles clumsy and tired, his arms steadying her.
She should move away, she knew. And she would. In a minute. But right now, the warmth of him after the freezing cold of the ocean was too great a temptation. Add to that the sudden weakness of her limbs as terror drained, leaving her shaking. For this moment, she would simply rest against him, regaining her breath, her wits, and her strength. Let his warmth soak through the pitifully thin cotton of her clothes. Which reminded her that she was dressed essentially in a shift. With legs and arms. She would worry about that too.
In a minute.
The Lord Doctor twisted and moved, and then something gloriously warm settled over her shoulders and against her back. His coat, she realized. His arms pulled her tightly against him once again. Only this time, only two thin layers of damp linen separated their bodies.
“What the hell were you doing out there?” he asked in a mild voice.
Dammit, he didn’t get to ask questions. She didn’t have appropriate answers prepared. Besides, she should be the one who got first stab at this line of inquiry.
“F-f-funny,” she stuttered, her teeth chattering. “I w-was going to ask you the s-same.”
“You first.” He sounded angry now, though he was pushing her wet hair away from her face with the tenderness of a lover.
She should move away, she told herself again. Instead she closed her eyes and let her head rest against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “I c-crawled out my lover’s w-window and fell into the s-sea.”
“Try again.”
“Th-that excuse worked for my brother.”
“No lover worth his salt would ever let you crawl out his window.”
Katherine would have blushed if she hadn’t been so cold. “W-went for a m-morning swim.”
“A morning swim?”
“I f-find it invigorating.”
“Invigorating.”
“Are you going to continue to r-repeat everything I say?”
“Just the parts that are preposterous.”
“Well, then, you should know that I w-was having a lovely time until I came across a Lord Doctor hiding in a damn cave.”
He exhaled. “A lovely time.”
“Why is that part so preposterous?” Her shivers were abating.
“Because you were being shot at.”
“Mmm. Yes, I suppose I could have done without that bit.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“Mmm.” It was a possibility. She was, after all, being embraced by a baron-turned-doctor she shouldn’t trust. She was half-naked and sopping wet, having narrowly survived a smuggling run. That she had lost her mind was more than a possibility, she reflected. It was quite probable. And that was one more thing she would care about. In a minute.
“What about you?” she asked in the interim.
“What about me?”
“Have you lost your mind? Or perhaps just your way? Awfully few patients in this neck of the woods, I should think.”
“Jesus Christ, Katherine. We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you and how you could have been killed.”
Her fingers had curled against his shirt, where they were trapped between them at the sound of her name on his lips. It stole whatever breath she’d just regained. Katherine suggested an intimacy even greater than two bodies crammed into a cave.
“What were you thinking?” the baron muttered against the top of her head.
“I was thinking,” she said into the front of his shirt, “that I could draw the soldiers away from the boat. I was thinking that a father of five should return to his family today. Hervey Baker is needed.”
“So are you.”
“That is kind,” she said, her voice still muffled. “But Matthew and my father have both managed to get along just fine without me. I’m not saying they wouldn’t miss me, but they certainly don’t need me. Not the way Hervey’s family needs him.”
The Lord Doctor was quiet, only the sounds of their breathing audible.
Katherine lifted her head, wishing she could see his face. “How are you even here?”
“I stopped at the Bakers’,” he said, not loosening his arms. “Their youngest had an abscessed tooth last week. Frannie told me that Hervey was down at the cove. It didn’t take much imagination to guess why. I thought I’d stay close, in case someone needed medical attention. Especially after what happened the other night.”
Katherine frowned into the blackness. “But how were you on that ledge? And in this tunnel or whatever it is?”
“I was on the beach when I heard the shots out on the water. I came around to get as close as I could.”
“You came around?”
“There really is an echo in here.” It sounded like he was grinning.
Katherine ignored his humor. “So there is a back door.”
“Yes. It’s more of a crevice than a door. In the north corner of the cove, just above the high-water mark. If you know where to look.”
“And you just happened to know where to look?”
“Yes. The Earl of Rivers has two aunts who are very fond of fossil hunting—”
“Yes, I’ve met them. They told me as much.”
“And years ago they told me about this passage that they stumbled across. I explored out of curiosity.”
Katherine could feel herself scowling at his neat, tidy answers.
“I’m not an idiot, Miss Wright,” he said. “I know what Baker was doing out there. Or at least, I have a good idea—I don’t want to know the specifics. But what I do want to know is what the hell you were doing with him?”
“I have retrieval skills,” she muttered.
“Retrieval skills?”
“Did you hear that? Another echo.”
“And you’re making yourself sound like a bloody spaniel sent over the heath after a brace of dead pheasants.”
Katherine pulled away from him a little more, and cool air snaked up to whisper unpleasantly against her damp skin. She tugged his coat more tightly around her.
“I swim,” she allowed. “Which is occasionally required in the recovery of…certain lost items.”
“I see.”
“I doubt you do, but it is rather irrelevant at this juncture and of little concern to you.” She took another step back for good measure, only to be brought up short by a wall of rock at her back. She frowned again. “As much as I’ve enjoyed this little parlay, do you think we might remove ourselves? I am, if you recall, due to be teaching a class this morning at Avondale, and while your sister seems like a remarkable woman who doesn’t put a great deal of weight on appearance, I think that even she would have a problem with mine currently.”
“You might be right.” He sounded amused. “What is it that you call your current outfit?”
“Freezing,” she gritted between clenched teeth.
“Ah. Well, we can’t have that.” In the darkness, he found her hand and tucked it into the warmth of his palm. Katherine knew she should remove it but couldn’t bring herself to do so.
“And were you planning to wear this home?” he asked reasonably.
“No. There was—is—a dry shirt and trousers hidden on the beach.”
“Ah. I can retrieve them for you if you like.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I want my coat back. It’s my favorite.”
“Right.” Katherine wasn’t sure if she should believe him or not. “I’d appreciate it, thank you,” she said gruffly. She owed him that at least. The alternative was to…what? Wait until darkness fell and creep home? Shiver and shake until she dried in this damp cave or hope Hervey or one of the men came back looking for her and brought her clothes?
She almost snorted. None of the men were going to come anywhere near this cove for a good long while now. Another thought struck Katherine. “Will you tell her? Your sister? About me and this…” She trailed off, belatedly considering that she might have sunk her chances at a generous salary before she had even cast off. It was unlikely that a smuggler would be welcomed in the hallowed halls of the Haverhall School for Young Ladies.
“Tell her what? That you swim in the morning for the good of your constitution? I don’t see why it would be important to her.”
“Right.” Instant relief trickled through her, followed quickly by suspicion. “You seem rather cavalier about this.”
