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But a jaw you could break rocks on. And eyes, dark and coloured like the sea…
I shook myself. What bloody use was his eye-colour going to be to them for fishing him out of the ocean?
Focus, Lilly! Focus on what’s important!
‘Hm. No beard… He’s not an old man, then, Miss Linton? I would have thought to have reached his position in life…’
‘No. I don’t know how old he is exactly, but no more than twenty-five, I’d guess. His face is as smooth as polished granite, and as hard and unmoving, most of the time.’
But his lips… They can be so very soft.
Blast! I was supposed to give a description here! Clenching my hands, I bit back the tears that were threatening to spill over and concentrated on one thing, and one thing only: Rikkard Ambrose.
‘His figure?’ the captain enquired, taking notes in a small notebook he had snatched out of his pocket.
‘He’s leanly built.’
But he has muscles, even though one doesn’t see them at first glance. And you’ve felt every single one of them.
‘His voice? Just in case we hear him calling for help?’
‘Quite deep, but most of all curt and cold.’ My lips twitched. So curt and cold… ‘If you hear him calling, he’ll probably not be calling for help but ordering you to come.’
What wouldn’t I give to hear him snapping at me again, making demands, ordering me around. Before, it had almost driven me crazy. Now that he wasn’t here anymore, I missed the bloody tyrant! I missed his eyes, his voice, his overwhelming presence. I even missed his stinginess and gruff, biting remarks. But most of all, I missed the knowledge that he was safe and well. I missed him. All of him.
Blast! That’s all you need! After the way he treated you, you’ve gone and become fond of the bastard!
Although ‘fond’ might not be exactly the right word to describe the way I was feeling, I admitted to myself, my ears still burning.
‘Miss Linton?’ The captain’s voice pulled me from my reverie. ‘Miss Linton, are you all right? You look a little unwell.’
‘It’s just… seeing that poor, unfortunate soul,’ I lied, gesturing to the corpse on the floor, from which any remnant of a soul already had departed.
‘Oh, of course, Miss Linton. How thoughtless of me. Men, wrap him up and carry him away! Now!’
‘I… I’m sorry, Captain. It’s just… I’ve never seen a dead man before.’
My goodness, you’re good at lying today, aren’t you?
The captain made an impatient gesture. ‘Lieutenant! Fetch a glass of brandy for Miss Linton! And signal the other ships to keep looking.’
‘Aye aye, Sir!’
When the brandy came, I didn’t say no. On the contrary. I tossed the whole contents of the glass back in one large gulp. When I lowered the glass, the lieutenant was looking at me, wide-eyed, as were all other members of the crew in the vicinity.
‘What’s the matter?’ I asked. ‘Never seen a lady take a sip of brandy before?’
‘Not quite like that, Miss, no.’ The lieutenant bowed. ‘If you’ll excuse me… I have to get back to my other men, to oversee the search.’
And so we continued around the white cliffs of Dover and past beaches and bays. For hours and hours and hours we scoured the water and the coastline, now and again exchanging flag signals with another ship, but mostly just staring into the water, searching, always searching. The monotony was almost as bad as the bone-deep fear.
And when the monotony was interrupted, that was even worse. Because the only possible interruption was another corpse.
‘N-no. That’s not him, either.’ Shaking my head, I turned away from the dead form on the deck. ‘Please… take him away?’
‘Of course, Miss Linton. Remove that thing at once, men!’
‘Aye aye, Sir!’
