“Good. Come on.” He caught her hand.
“Don’t you need to pack?”
He shook his head. “My ship’s still at anchor in the cove, always ready to go at a moment’s notice.”
“How convenient,” she murmured sarcastically.
She’d forgotten that he kept his own ship in the bay. During the war he’d regularly posed as a smuggler to slip unnoticed into France, and only a few months ago he’d rescued her brother Nic; his now-wife, Marianne; and the French aristocrat Louis-Charles de Bourbon, in a daring nighttime raid from Brittany.
The only people they encountered in the hall were an amorous couple entwined in a doorway. The man ushered his giggling partner backward with an audible “Shhh!” and the door clicked closed. Heloise felt her face flame and glanced up to catch the slow, mocking curl of Raven’s mouth.
Instead of using the main stairs, he led her to another service staircase and through an enormous, and deserted, reception room.
Heloise gasped. Whereas the hallway depicted gods and goddesses in joyful abandon,thisroom depicted hell, all red, black, and orange. All four walls enclosed one huge battle scene—with rearing horses, and soldiers in billowing capes with slashing swords. Above, on the ceiling, a grotesque catlike animal with a yawning mouth depicted the entrance to the Underworld itself. Gruesome souls writhing in torment were wreathed in smoke and flames, surrounded by more battling gods and goddesses. The trompe l’oeil effect was so well executed that the real green marble pillars of the room were almost impossible to differentiate from those that had been merely painted on. The whole effect was uncomfortably disorienting.
There was the Grim Reaper, with his sickle and hood. And Hades, thundering up from the Underworld in his chariot. The tale of Hades and Persephone had been one of her favorite Greek myths as a girl. Her younger self had thought it breathtakingly romantic; imagine having a man desire you so much that he’d defy the gods to have you.
Heloise suppressed a snort. Ha! It was just another kidnapping. And there wasnothingromantic about that. Raven wasn’t stealing her away because he loved her. He was only doing it out of duty and friendship.
Raven shot her a teasing look over his shoulder as they crossed the marble floor. “I’ll be honest, Hellcat. I expected more histrionics.”
“I haven’t seen where it would help,” she said bluntly. “If you’d like me to start screeching like a banshee, you have only to say.”
They reached a side door without encountering another soul, not even a servant. Raven retrieved a dark leather satchel waiting on a hall chair, slung it over his shoulder, and drew Heloise out into the kitchen garden.
The slap of the cool night air brought the reality of the situation home with a jolt. This wasn’t a joke or a nightmare. Raven reallywasplanning to put her on his ship and sail away. He was completely mad.
Clouds covered the moon, but he led her unerringly through the shadows, apparently unconcerned that whoever had shot at them earlier could still be loitering in the darkness. Heloise was about to point this out, but she found she needed all her breath to keep up with his brisk pace. She flinched at every snapped twig and looming bush but they navigated the gardens without incident and plunged into a bank of huge rhododendrons. When they emerged on the other side, the moon slid out from behind the clouds and Heloise stopped dead.
They were standing at the top of a cliff. A gust of wind flattened her dress against her legs, bringing with it the bracing tang of seaweed and brine. Below them, in a rocky inlet, the dark outline of Raven’s ship bobbed on the tide.
A set of rough steps had been cut into the side of the cliff. Raven let go of her wrist and took her hand and Heloise was glad of the reassuring strength of his fingers. Her legs seemed to be alarmingly shaky. He helped her down onto a wooden jetty attached to the rocks and she suppressed a shiver. The ship creaked and groaned like an invalid and the waves sucking at the rocks sounded like a monster smacking its lips in anticipation of a good meal.
Raven hailed a shadowy figure on the deck with a shout. “We’re here. Prepare to weigh anchor.”
Heloise’s feeling of doom persisted as her feet left the solidity of the dock and she ventured up the swaying gangplank; she glanced down at the dark, unfriendly waves and shuddered. Raven ushered her across the unsteady deck and down a set of steep wooden steps. The area below was extremely cramped. A number of small wooden cots had been set in rows on one side, presumably where the crew slept, and the air was warm and close.
“They double as coffins if anyone dies at sea,” he said cheerfully, noting the direction of her gaze. “Not an inch of space in a place like this.” He led her to a narrow door and opened it with a flourish. “Only one cabin, in fact. Mine.”
And with that, he shoved her inside.
Chapter 10
Heloise glared over her shoulder at him and straightened. Sothiswas what a smuggler’s cabin looked like.
She stifled a spurt of disappointment. It looked like an ordinary, rather cramped study. A chair and leather-topped desk competed for space with a large bed, apparently built into one wall. There was a set of shelves with odd, low brass railings running along the edges—presumably to prevent items from falling off—and a couple of wooden trunks. Small, glazed portholes provided little illumination.
She gestured at the ceiling and summoned her most imperious tone. Raven might have bullied her onto his ship, but he wasnotgoing to order her about. “Don’t you have to be up there, captaining or something?”
“Trying to get rid of me?”
“Yes.”
Raven opened a cupboard set into wall. She heard the chink of glasses and the splash of liquid, and he turned, holding two tumblers. “I’m going. But first, drink this.” He handed her a glass filled with liquid the color of a sunset.
She eyed it with deep suspicion. “What’s that?”
“Pink gin to combat seasickness. It’s just a precaution. Don’t want you ruining my nice clean cabin.” He glanced down at his feet. “This is anextremelyexpensive rug.”