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For a moment I ignored her question, letting the fragrant steam settle the chills running through my body. “Of course,” I said finally, striving for more confidence than I honestly felt. “This council doesn’t worry me.”
“They don’t worry me, either. Rafe, though, could give you a harder time.”
I agreed with Margaret, although saying the words out loud made them more real, so I held my tongue.
“At any rate,” she said briskly, “while you’re gone, I’ll do some exploring. Della’s beginning to trust me, I think, and if—“
Della’s arrival cut her off. “I think I see the sails off to the south. Whoever they’ve sent should be able to drop anchor in another twenty minutes or so.”
“I’m at your disposal.” I raised my mug in toast, giving Margaret a grateful nod, filling in the rest of her thought in my own mind. If Della trusted Margaret, she might give her some clue as to the location of the Ferox Cor. My own errand was likely to be less directly helpful, though I’d keep my eyes and ears open.
An undercurrent of sadness weighed down Della’s smile. “Rafe should be along any time. I swear, if you do nothing else, keep him from angering them. You don’t want them to refuse you a return trip.”
My smile never faltered, though her warning heightened my nerves. “They’ve only offered us a one-way ticket?”
“I’m sure they mean to bring you back.” She clasped her hands in front of her belly, a protective gesture that gave more of a warning than her words. “Unless they won’t.”
“Then I will do my best to charm them like they’ve never been charmed before.” I gave her a little bow, and her answering laugh had more life to it.
“If anyone can do it, it’d be you. Rafe has many gifts, but sweetness isn’t one of them.”
I murmured something noncommittal. It’d never do to agree with too much enthusiasm. Finishing my coffee, I bundled up and went out to the beach.
Either the sun rose later than normal, or the thick clouds prevented the passage of light. Rafe waited on the small lawn, his attention somewhere over the horizon. Certainly, he didn’t notice me.
Clean-shaven, his hair was neat under a sporting bowler hat. Rather than his leaf-and-twig bedecked cloak, he wore a handsome overcoat. His boots were glossy black and he’d even traded his normal cane for one of ebony. I approached him slowly, giving myself a few moments to enjoy the view.
As soon as he opened his mouth, I had no doubt he’d be back to his old acerbic self.
“He’s out there.”
Surprised by his acknowledgement, I stopped at his side. The boat – ship? – was some two hundred yards offshore. It had two masts and was larger than most fishing vessels. Across the Sound, mist softened Bainbridge Island’s deep green profile. “Looks like he’s lowering a rowboat from over the side.”
“The sandbar makes the water too shallow for any vessel with a keel.”
“Therefore, the lighthouse.” Stupid of me not to recognize that before now. “I blame my Midwest upbringing.” He greeted my confession with silence.Lord, he is a stiff one. Rather than give up, I tried a different approach. “I confess there are excursions I’ve been more excited about.”
“Stay here, then.”
If I’d hoped to put him at ease by sharing my own uncertainty, the attempt failed. Whatever measure of cordiality we’d reached last evening had not carried over.
I dared a glance in his direction. His stern profile gave little away. “Generally, when approaching a meeting like this, I find it’s helpful to anticipate as many possible outcomes as I can conjure up.”
I took his silence to mean I should keep babbling. “It’s possible they will invite you to join them.” No response. “Or perhaps they’ll ask you to leave the city, to tell you they’ve assigned the lighthouse to someone else.” They had nowhere near the authority to do that, but they could try.
“No.”
“They won’t ask you to leave, or they won’t assign someone else to the lighthouse?”
He stood so still I wondered if he was even breathing. The man in the rowboat made steady progress in our direction.
“Neither.” He spoke quietly, but with utter conviction.
“How do you figure?”
“They’d have to kill me first.”
Interesting. “All that would take is a well-placed bullet.”
