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Cyrus gave the servant a warning stare.
The woman dropped her eyelids.
Rightly so, and heaven help anyone else who stood between him and Margaret. Pushing past the housekeeper without further ceremony, Cyrus left.
* * *
Under limited sail the Libertas passed out of the Thames estuary and into open seas. Only then did Roderick breathe easy. It had been a near miss back there at Billingsgate. They’d had similar scrapes many times before, of course, but it was essential they were not stopped now. They were due in Dundee to meet with Gregor Ramsay, the fellow shipman with whom he owned the Libertas. Roderick had been ready, though. If he’d been arrested back in London the men were under strict instructions to sail with the tide without him.
“Full sail,” Roderick instructed.
Clyde relayed his orders, scurrying about as fast as any of the younger men, despite his hunched form and his advanced years. The man refused to rest. He also refused to make his home on land, swearing he would end his days at sea.
Men leaped at Roderick’s command, climbing the rigging.
More sails unfurled, quickly capturing the wind. He turned the wheel hand over hand, held course and inhaled the salt on the air. The creak of the boards and the snap of spar and sail reassured him, for they were a heartbeat that raced in concert with his own. Married to the sea, he was, and it was where he felt at peace. He directed the wheel awhile longer, then handed it over to Brady, the first officer. “Bear northeast awhile longer, then we turn full north.”
Brady took the wheel, but stared at him, making it obvious he had something on his mind. Roderick could already guess what it was. Brady was waiting until they were in open waters before he confronted him, but the leaden stare had already conveyed enough.
“Do you intend to inform us about your passenger,” the officer eventually said, with sarcasm, “or are we supposed to pretend we did not see the woman you brought aboard?”
Roderick frowned. He and Brady often held each other to account in Gregor’s absence, but he did not appreciate the challenge in the seaman’s tone. “The woman needed passage to return to her family home in Scotland. Would you have me leave her alone in London?”
“We take no passengers, especially not a woman.”
Roderick bristled. “I am the captain of this ship, and if I deem it necessary on occasion, you will accept that and act accordingly.”
Brady shook his head. “Since when has a woman swayed you so easily, Roderick Cameron?”
Again he frowned. Brady’s comments needled him, for Roderick was determined his captainship would be a resounding success. In the six months since Gregor had been away from the ship the men had answered well to him, yet only days from reuniting with Gregor he now risked having the crew turn against him.
“What a spectacle you made, arriving with a slip of a girl in tow and God knows how many men after you.”
“Enough!” Roderick barked. “Think on this. What if she was your sister, desperate to find her way home?”
Brady left that hanging in the air between them a moment. “But it was not your sister you were thinking of when you brought her aboard,” he finally said with a wry smile. “I saw the way you looked at her as you took her below deck.”
“It is easy for you to judge, when you have a night with your wife to look forward to.”
“A fair point, I’ll allow,” Brady said with a mock bow. “As long as she gives the men no trouble, I will back you up and remind them of...what was it?” He gave a sharp laugh. “Oh, yes, their sisters.”
Roderick was about to reply when Clyde appeared at their side.
“I gather from the raised voices that you quizzed him about the Jezebel.” He directed his question to Brady, and followed it up with a chortle.
The Jezebel. Roderick gave an internal groan. It was what Clyde called all women, but it only served to implicate Roderick.
“I did, and he said he was thinking of his sister.”
Clyde chortled again. “That Jezebel is a whole lot prettier than any sister of yours would be,” he said to Roderick. “Lord help any woman saddled with your looks.”
“I was concerned for her safety,” Roderick insisted, “and she is a Scot.”
Clyde rubbed at his beard. “Concerned for a warm bed tonight, I wager.”
“How is it you have survived so long at sea, when you show such cheek toward your captain?” Roderick snatched the eyeglass from Clyde’s hand and turned away to scan the waters behind them, straining his eyes in the darkness. There was no sign of lights on the water, no flash of a navy flag in the moonlight.
Still he stared into the darkness.
