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“None,” the captain retorted, a taunt in his tone. “It appears you’ll have to take me at my word.”
Slayde’s jaw set. He was on the verge of revoking his earlier claim that he’d brought the diamond with him, ready to swear that it was, in truth, ensconced at Pembourne Manor, when his gaze fell on the squirming sack on the first mate’s arm. From the partially open end at the top, several long tresses tumbled free, hair whose color not even the fog could disguise.
A shimmering golden red.
Aurora.
Reassured that his efforts were about to be rewarded, Slayde nodded his compliance, now eager to complete the transaction and be gone. Aware he was being scrutinized, he allowed none of his impatience to show, instead remaining impassive while the first mate completed his descent and paused three rungs above Slayde’s deck.
“The diamond, m’lord,” the sailor requested, extending his hand.
Wordlessly, Slayde studied him, noting—with some degree of surprise—the twinge of regret on the first mate’s face; it was almost as if the rogue were being forced to act against his will.
“Please, Lord Pembourne,” the sailor reiterated, balking beneath Slayd
e’s probing stare, “the stone.”
“Very well.” Deliberately, Slayde leaned forward, slipping his hand inside his boot. “I’m fetching the diamond, not a weapon,” he clarified, taking pity on the cowering fellow. “My Hessian is unarmed.” So saying, he extracted the gemstone, holding it out so the first mate could see the truth to his words.
Relief flashed on the weathered features.
“Take it, Lexley,” the captain bit out.
With a start, Lexley jerked forward, snatching the diamond from Slayde’s palm.
Simultaneously, the woman in the sack began struggling furiously, catching Lexley off guard and toppling from his arms.
With a sickening crack, the sack smashed against the boom of the fishing boat, the impact hurling it outward, where it plummeted down to the railing below.
It hit with a hollow thud.
Slayde lunged forward, grasping nothing but air as the small craft pitched, upsetting his balance and butting the sack yet again, this time overboard.
A glint of silver struck his deck.
Then, an ominous splash as the sack plunged headlong into the rolling waves and vanished.
“Dear God.” Lexley made an instinctive move toward the water.
“Get back on board,” the captain bellowed. “Now.”
The first mate froze. “M’lord—” He turned terrified eyes to Slayde. “You must…”
Slayde never heard the rest of the sentence. Having regained his balance, he charged forward, pausing only to gauge the distance to the enveloping swells that divulged the sack’s location.
Then he dove.
He sliced the surface in one clean stroke and was swallowed up by darkness.
“Please, God,” Lexley prayed, staring at the foam in Slayde’s wake, “let him save her. And God—please forgive me.”
With that, he scooted up the ladder and onto his ship, dragging the ladder in his wake.
Slayde propelled himself downward, groping blindly in the pitch-black seas. The eclipsing combination of fog and night made it impossible to distinguish anything. He could only pray his calibrations had been right.
Perhaps his prayers were heard.
With a surge of triumph, Slayde felt the coarse edge of the sack brush his fingertips. He latched on to it, hauling the cumbersome bag against him, locking it securely to his body. Kicking furiously, he battled both the weight of his own water-logged clothing and the additional constraint of his unwieldy bundle.
