Almost a Lady Read Free Page B

the declaration finally brought the grim reality of an unimaginable situation home to her. She thought of her parents and of Arabella and Jack. They would be frantic. “If I am not returned to Folkestone immediately, I can’t imagine what will happen. I
have
to go home.” Her desperate gaze fixed upon the cabin’s bank of windows . . . at the ceaseless, inexorable movement of the sea as it slipped beneath the stern, carrying her heaven only knew where.
    “I can’t do that,” he said, and there was an almost regretful note beneath the implacable statement. “Even if the tide was not against us, time is. My mission can only be accomplished at a certain juncture. I cannot lose the opportunity.”
    And Meg slowly understood that she was indeed trapped. She could not turn this ship around. If its master would not, then where it sailed so did she. “Who are you?” she repeated.
    “My name’s Cosimo.” He gave her a little bow as if in a formal introduction.
    “De Medici?” she inquired with unconcealed and disbelieving sarcasm. Such a name was a perfect fit with all this nonsensical talk of missions and vital enterprises.
    Disconcertingly he merely laughed. “My mother combined a love of Italian history with a somewhat fanciful temperament.”
    “So if it’s not de Medici, what is it?” Her lip curled a little.
    “Just Cosimo,” he said, untroubled by her scorn. “You need know me only by that name.”
    “I have no wish to know you at all.” She turned away and went over to the bank of windows. She knelt on the cushioned bench beneath and stared out at the sea, trying to control the tears that filled her eyes.
    “When you’re ready to dress, you’ll find clothes in the cupboard. I’m sure that like the nightgown they’ll be a perfect fit.” He spoke quietly as ever behind her. “Come to the quarterdeck whenever you feel like it.” She heard the door open and close.
    “G’bye . . . g’bye . . . poor Gus . . . poor Gus,” the macaw muttered.
    “Oh, be quiet,” Meg said fiercely through the infuriating tears that clogged her throat.
    “Poor Gus,” the bird murmured and tucked his head beneath his wing.

Chapter   2
    C osimo went up on deck, the serenity of his expression belying the fierce turmoil of his thoughts. The helmsman offered him the wheel as he climbed the steps to the quarterdeck but he shook his head. “I’ll take it later, Mike, when we come close to the harbor.”
    “Aye, Captain. The rocks around the island are as treacherous as any on the Brittany coast,” the helmsman said solemnly.
    Cosimo laughed slightly and patted the man’s shoulder. “I’m not implying that you’re not up to the task, Mike. But I like the challenge myself.”
    A grin twitched the other man’s mouth. “And there’s none better to do it, sir.”
    Cosimo looked up at the sails that barely stirred beneath a faint breeze. “It’ll take us hours to make landfall with this wind.”
    “You know what they say about calm following the storm,” Mike observed with a sagacious nod. He leaned sideways and spat over the rail. “Sea’s a millpond.”
    Cosimo nodded and walked over to the stern rail, where he stood leaning his elbows on the topmost bar gazing out at the faint outline of land on the horizon. The Channel Islands, just off the coast of Brittany. With a good wind they’d be maneuvering through the rocks to the harbor on the island of Sark within four hours. At this rate it would be nightfall and they’d have to stand out to sea during the night. Only a fool would attempt the landing in pitch dark. And although his anxiety and the urgency of his mission made him impatient, Cosimo was no fool.
    What had happened to Ana?
A simple accident that had delayed her arrival at the rendezvous? Or something more sinister?
    He forced himself to consider the latter possibility. If Ana had been betrayed to the French, if she was now in the hands of their expert interrogators, it would not be long before