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She pushed herself to her feet, clinging to the safety railing on the wall, her hair sopping and sticky. “I think so.”
“Good.” His eyes narrowed and grew almost cruel. “I wouldn’t want to deliver damaged goods to your duke, now would I?”
And then he was gone and there was only a square of sky above her.
Tears stung her eyes. Coombe or the highwayman or whoever he was had planned this all along. He’d tricked her. The rest of them must have known, too; she saw it all now. The Wonicots and Mary, sniggering away at her expense, while she attempted to bribe Coombe into helping her escape. How they must have laughed!
Remembering some of the things she’d said, Antoinette felt outraged and humiliated by the trick that had been played on her. Oh, he’d been clever, keeping her at a distance, changing his mannerisms and his way of moving, as well as his voice, so that although she might occasionally feel he was familiar, she never actually connected the two men.
She was trapped. Here she was, on board a yacht, with nowhere to go but into the sea. Even if she could swim, Antoinette doubted she would be brave enough to leap into those cold, deep waters. And she still didn’t know what this man planned to do with her, despite what he said about changing allegiance. It was quite likely that once he had the letter from her he would throw her into the sea himself.
The tears began to drip faster down her cheeks, and she let them come. There was no one to see her. She was frightened and alone, and her lover had lied to her and betrayed her. She didn’t know what to do or whom to believe, and now the rolling of this dreadful boat was making her feel sick.
Eventually she began, shakily, to make her way toward the cabin with the bed in it. The boat was rolling even worse now and the movement threw her about. She clung to anything that was fastened down and finally reached the bed. As she lay down she told herself she would rest but she wouldn’t sleep. No matter how weary and miserable she was, she mustn’t sleep. She needed to keep alert and watchful, then if he was going to hand her over to Lord Appleby, she’d be ready.
Except if he’d been going to do that, then why did he leave Wexmoor Manor? Antoinette hadn’t known Appleby was on his way until he told her. If he was Appleby’s man, then he didn’t need to tell her and he didn’t need to help her run away. So he wasn’t going to give her up. That part of his story must be true at least. He’d spoken of the duke, but that was just something she’d made up for Coombe’s benefit, although now it might be useful to her. She might be able to bribe him by promising him recompense from the “duke.”
But that still didn’t tell her what he wanted from her.
She supposed it was possible he’d heard she was wealthy and wanted her money, or perhaps he really did want to own a racing stable and expected her to find him one. It was all too much to take in, and as hard as she tried to keep her eyes open, they began to drift shut. Despite the rolling of the boat and the wash of the waves, Antoinette sank into oblivion.
Chapter 24
Gabriel sat back in the cockpit with one hand on the tiller, steering his yacht and breathing deeply of the salty air. The weather was blustery and perfect for sailing, he couldn’t have asked for better, and they were making good progress down the coast. He was enjoying himself and he felt free again, knowing he was beholden to no man out here. It was the first time he’d felt this free since he learned the news from his father and had gone storming to Appleby’s house in Mayfair.
Where he’d first seen her. Antoinette.
She’d stayed below since she’d had that soaking as they left the harbor, and the only time he’d ventured down to check on her, he’d found her fast asleep in his bed. She looked so sweet, so peaceful and innocent, he was almost ashamed at the hot imaginings that sprang into his head. And then he remembered the duke and he felt like wringing her neck.
He shifted the tiller slightly to port, and the flapping sail
filled again as they heeled over, the wind buffeting them along at a cracking pace.
Of course she’d been very angry when she finally realized who he was. And he’d expected anger, yes; he’d even been looking forward to meeting it head-on. But that shattered expression…he’d wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her and tell her over and over how sorry he was.
Except he hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact he’d done exactly as she asked him: helped her run away from Appleby. After she’d recovered from her shock he was expecting some gratitude, some sweet, passionate kisses.
Until she’d mentioned the other man.
At that moment something inside him had begun to burn, a slow, intense heat that threatened to consume him. Antoinette had lain with him, sighing and moaning, clasping him in her arms, and all the time she wasn’t thinking of Gabriel, and she wasn’t thinking of Appleby. She was thinking of the duke.
No doubt he was everything Gabriel was not, could give her her heart’s desire and more.
His hand clenched on the tiller, and it was only as the boat began to shift off course that he realized what he was doing and straightened her up. What was the point in speculating? He’d get the truth out of her. There was plenty of time. Gabriel meant to drop anchor at dusk and spend the night in one of his favorite sheltered coves. They’d be far from Appleby’s reach, just Gabriel and Antoinette…and the letter.
He knew she’d never have left it behind. It was here, somewhere, and he was going to get it from her. After all, what possible use could she have for it now? And once he’d regained Wexmoor Manor and persuaded Appleby not to pursue any charges against him, he’d be able to live the life of a wealthy landed gentleman.
Would a man like that appeal to Antoinette?
Gabriel despised himself for thinking it, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted her, and he’d use all the weapons in his possession to win her.
Antoinette sat on the edge of the bed, trying to decide what to do. Her stomach lurched. She’d awoken confused and disoriented, wondering where she was. The next moment she made a dash for a bowl she’d noticed earlier. It was probably used for washing water, and fit securely into the top of a wooden chest, but Antoinette found another use for it. The retching made her feel a little better, but as soon as she straightened up, nausea returned.
Seasickness. Antoinette moaned and closed her eyes. She needed fresh air, and to get that she’d have to go up on deck where he was. No matter what he said to the contrary, she didn’t trust him. Another roll of the boat and her stomach lurched again. With a whimper she headed toward the companionway.
Gabriel raised his eyebrows in surprise as her face appeared through the hatchway. It was an interesting shade of green. She swallowed, a hand covering her mouth. She wasn’t wearing her spectacles and her eyes were enormous.
“I wondered if you might have something to help my stomach,” she said in a stiff little voice, as if she was afraid of opening her mouth too far.
