So, the Governor is in the clear, Averil thought. That would make things easier for Luc.
‘Any more papers on board? I’ll have the vessel stripped down in any case, but it’ll go better for you if you hand it all over now.’
‘Nothing. I’ve got stuff in my house, though.’ The man seemed eager to talk now. Averil eyed him with distaste—he had known exactly what he was carrying to pay for those French luxury goods. ‘I’ll give it all to you, if you’ll save my neck.’
‘I’m sure you will. And when we come alongside the Frenchman, you’ll act as though nothing is wrong or you’ll get a knife in the ribs and won’t have to worry about the hangman at all.’ Luc got to his feet, went out to the foot of the steps and shouted up, ‘Two men, down here, now!’
When Trethowan was bundled out Luc turned, finally, to look at Averil. His expression did not soften in the slightest from the way he had looked at the traitor. ‘And your excuse for being here is what, exactly?’
‘You were a man down.’ She wanted to wriggle back against the bulkhead and vanish, but it was solid against her shoulders. Luc neither raised his voice nor came any closer, but her mouth had gone dry and her pulse was pattering as though he had shouted threats at her. ‘If I took Ferret’s place in the gig then he could come up on deck and fight. I gave him the pistol as well, so you had one more weapon.’
‘Very noble,’ Luc
said.
‘There is no need to be sarcastic,’ Averil snapped. ‘I couldn’t bear being stuck back there, not knowing what was happening. But I wouldn’t have come if I hadn’t been able to do something helpful.’
‘Helpful!’ The change from cool sarcasm to a roar of fury had her jerking back so violently that her head banged on the wood behind her. ‘Do you call shredding my nerves helpful? I saw Ferret, asked him what the devil he was doing on deck and he said you were in that damned gig and I nearly throttled the little rodent. We still have a French brig to capture. You will stay down here. You will not so much as put your nose above deck until I send for you. Is that clear?’
Chapter Ten
What did I expect? To be welcomed with open arms and to be told I am a heroine? ‘Yes.’ Averil nodded. ‘Yes, I promise to stay below deck. Is anyone wounded? Ferret said something about Tom Patch’s shoulder. I could dress that if there are any medical supplies.’
‘Have a look round,’ Luc said as he stuffed the papers into the breast of his coat and strode out. ‘And if you find anything incriminating, let me know.’
‘How am I supposed to do that without putting my head out?’ Averil enquired of the unresponsive door panels. Oh, well, it could have been a lot worse, she supposed. At least no one was seriously hurt and Luc could have been even more angry. It occurred to her after a moment’s thought that he was probably more furious than he appeared, but was controlling it well. She could only hope that the fight to capture the French brig would take the edge off his temper.
She began to search the cabin systematically and found several cupboards built into the woodwork. None of them contained any sinister papers, which was a disappointment, but she did find a workmanlike medical kit rolled up in waxed cloth.
‘You all right, miss?’ Ferret poked his nose round the door, then sidled in. ‘Thought I’d keep out of sight a bit.’
‘Could you tell the captain that I have found a medical case and if someone could bring me some water and send anyone who is hurt down I will see what I can do for them?’
‘I’ll do that, if ‘e don’t throw me overboard on sight.’ He vanished and a few minutes later Tom Patch arrived with a bucket in one hand and the other thrust into his bloodstained shirt.
Averil had been brought up to deal with far nastier injuries amongst the servants or sustained by her father or brothers on hunting expeditions, although Tom was reluctant to take off his shirt and show his wound to a lady.
‘Don’t make a fuss,’ she said as she poured water into a bowl. ‘I had to dig a bullet out of my brother once when the doctor couldn’t be found.’ Actually it was buckshot in the buttocks, the result of drunken horseplay. Still, bathing and bandaging a simple bullet hole was easy enough, and it kept her mind off Luc’s scathing tongue.
‘That’s better, miss, thank you.’ Tom got to his feet. ‘Better get back up top, we’ll be up with them at any moment, I reckon.’
Averil discovered that she could obey Luc’s instructions and still catch a glimpse of what was going on by sitting on the second step down. It was frustrating, for all she could see was legs, but she could hear orders being given and listen to Luc’s voice.
When it happened, it all happened at once. The brig slowed and came around. There was a hail, the redheaded man answered in poor French, then there was a shouted exchange and the brig lost more way. She almost tumbled down the steps with the bump as the small ships came together with a grinding of fenders and, suddenly Luc shouted, ‘Board them!’
Gunfire, the clash of steel on steel, shouts in French and English. Averil gripped the steps in an effort to stop herself bobbing up to see. But if Luc saw her he would be distracted, or think he had to protect her; it was her duty to stay here, she told herself. Once being dutiful had been second nature, now it was something she had to struggle to achieve. Averil held on and prayed.
She did not have long to wait. The gunfire ceased and the voice she could hear clearly was Luc’s, in French and then English, giving orders. Averil unclenched her reluctant fingers and went down to the cabin. She was seated at the table, rewinding bandages with mechanical precision when the door opened.
‘There you are.’ Luc came in and closed the door behind him, then leaned back against it like a man falling on to a soft feather bed, eyes closed. ‘Come here.’
So now he was going to shout at her. Averil put down the gauze and went to stand in front of him. ‘Is everything all right? Did you get what you needed?’
‘Everything.’ He kept his eyes closed. ‘We got their orders, before they had a chance to throw them overboard, we took the captain and the officers unharmed. Je te … I have the proofs.’ His educated English accent had changed. He had been speaking and thinking in French, she realised.
‘Très bon,’ she ventured and his lips quirked. Her accent was probably laughable. ‘What happens now?’
‘This.’ He opened his eyes and looked at her and she saw the fire in them, the life, the fierce energy. The desire.