Knight Errant (19 page)

Juliana did not care. She would not let Robert drown. She looked about her. Sodden coils of rope lay scattered in a corner. She grabbed one, struggled to knot it around her waist, then grabbed a second coil. Battling wind and wave, she tied both lines securely to the ship’s rail. Next she tied her skirts around her waist, and before anyone could object, she crawled out onto the pole.

“Get rid of that mast,” the captain yelled. “If the madwoman wants to die, so be it.”

Waves crashed water into her nose and mouth. Lack of air made her weak, but she refused to give in. She hauled herself along the wood until she reached Robert. Keeping a grip on one length, she tossed him the coiled portion of the unused rope. “Take this and fix it ‘round you,” she screamed, praying he could hear over the howling wind. “Use it to pull yourself and the sailor to safety.”

When she saw him working with the rope, she turned herself around and began to inch her way down the tortuous path along the mast toward the ship and relative safety. Her arms ached with the strain. Cold numbed her fingers. She did not know how much longer her strength would last. Wind and water pulled at her in a deadly dance. The roar of thunder and waves drowned the
thud
of axes, but the mast quivered with the blows. She prayed that Robert and the sailor were able to use the rope to pull themselves to safety behind her.

Half a man’s length from the end, with the deck so near she could see the pitching boards, the axe-wielders finished their work, and the mast slipped sideways.

She had failed. Sorrow greater than any she had ever known filled her. She flung herself at the sea in the opposite direction from the fall of the mast. Salt water filled her mouth, and she sank.

Robert!
God forgive me.

“Wake up, Juliana! Do you hear me? Do not dare to die. I will not permit it.”

Robert tore at the rope around her chest. It had saved her life, allowing the sailors to pull her back to the ship. But now the tightened loop kept her chest from expanding. At last the knot came free.

Water bubbled from her nose and mouth.

“Breathe, Juliana,” he pleaded, shaking her limp form. “For God’s sake, breathe.”

She coughed and drew in great gulps of air and rainwater. “Robert?” She raised a feeble hand to his sea-soddened whiskers and smiled. “You live.”

Robert threw back his head. Laughter stuttered from him. “Yes, Juliana, I do indeed live.” He buried his face in her drenched hair and kissed her temple. He knew with unquestionable certainty that nothing—not even his sins and guilt mattered as long as this woman drew breath. Knowing Juliana, he almost believed absolution possible. Perhaps his actions could be justified as defense of an innocent from a monstrous evil. With Juliana in the world, Robert might make peace with his anger and guilt.

He lifted his head to find her eyes closed but her breathing even.

“Juliana, you cannot sleep yet,” he ordered.

She stirred and huddled closer to him. “I know. But I am so very tired and cold.”

His own body screamed with exhaustion from the strain of the rescue. They both needed rest desperately. “Shelter and dry clothing first. Then you may sleep.”

“Very well,” she mumbled but made no move to pull away from him or get to her feet.

In truth he was loath to let her go. So he would carry her. ’Twas the least he could do. She had brought the rope that saved his life and the sailor’s.

He struggled to rise. Hands reached out to help, some to lift him, some to take Juliana’s weight from him, but he refused to let her go.

“Come, sir,” a sailor said. “You must let us aid you.”

“No. Tend to your vessel. Give us but one man to assist us get to shelter. ’Twill do none of us any good if the ship founders after all that trouble.”

“Aye, sir. The captain and crew are making all fast now.” The sailor nodded. “He sent me to help ye and ye’r lady to his cabin.”

The captain’s cabin sat perched on the after deck and was the driest place on board. Which meant the floors were awash and every surface was slick with damp.

With the sailor’s aid, Robert stumbled to the room’s only chair and sat with Juliana still in his arms.

They rested there while the sailor went in search of dry clothing. He was back within moments.

“Leave us,” Robert said. He would not have the sailor watch him remove Juliana’s sopping clothes.

Setting her in the chair, Robert latched the door and turned to find her staring at him.

“You’re safe.” She smiled, her eyes tired, and her entire posture slumped with exhaustion.

“As are you. Can you manage to get out of those wet clothes? The captain has provided dry raiment.” He gestured to the items.

“Aye, but what of you?”

“I must return to help the captain.”

“He would have let you die.”

“He was doing what he thought best for his ship.”

“But . . .

“Now is not the time to argue over this. Please care for yourself.”

“If you will do the same.”

“I promise to return safe and sound.”

“Very well then.”

He left before she could say more. He longed to rest beside her, hold her, and in the holding comfort them both, but doing so would be wrong. He’d not return to her until he was so exhausted with labor that he would scarce notice she lay beside him.

• • •

Robert woke slowly to sunshine streaming in through a small window. Juliana’s damp warmth snuggled against him. His sleep had been dreamless. Not once had visions of his father bent over a bloody and naked victim jerked Robert from slumber. He shoved the thoughts away and savored the moment, for it would have to last a lifetime. She was safe, yet to keep her that way would fall to some other man. Even so, somewhere in the world Juliana would smile and that would gladden his life. He’d always thought that no man burdened with guilt as he was deserved to know a woman like Juliana. Yet he did know her, and having known her, he might someday find balm for his spirit. The light gilded her hair, and glowing health dusted her cheeks. No ill effects lingered from their stormy adventure. Desire teased him to run his hands over her form, checking for bruises and breaks. He resisted and left the bed. The pleasure of waking beside Lady Juliana Verault belonged to another man.

Leave this room
, he urged himself,
before you do something you may both regret
.

He emerged to a deck bare of mast, sail, and a large number of the goods intended for English markets. Even without the mast and cloth, sailors scurried about, bent on tasks that only their captain might comprehend.

As if conjured, the man strode up beside Robert. “I see you are finally awake.”

“Aye.”

“And the lady?”

“She sleeps still.”

“No injuries, I pray? We wondered if the two of you would ever wake ’Tis now a full day since the storm ceased.”

“That long? Nay, she is as hale as I, or will be once she has slept enough.”

“Good. I regret that all we had to give her for clothing belonged to one of the smaller sailors. We had to lighten the ship and tossed much of our cargo overboard. We lost milady’s bags to the ocean. All that remains of your freight, sir, is that small casket of
caffe
beans and the lady’s cloak.”

Robert cursed silently. Had that casket gone to the bottom of the sea, the problem of the letters would have been solved. “I thank you for your thoughtfulness.”

Juliana would need new garments—chemise, gown, surcoat, belt, shoes, nightclothes . . . the list was endless. Robert had a small amount of coin hidden in his own clothing. However, he doubted ’twould be enough to provide all she needed.

“You may wish to break your fast. The cook has bread and fruit that came through the storm. ’Tis a good thing you decided not to bring your horse. The beast might not have survived such a gale.”

“Aye.” Robert nodded and headed for the cook’s place in the bow of the ship.

The captain kept pace. “I will join you, if I may.”

“I would be glad of the company. Tell me, are we still on course for England?”

“Nay, we are blown far off our intended track.”

“Do you know where we are?” He took the food the cook handed him.

“I have not often sailed this stretch of sea, but I believe we are a day from the northwest coast of Italy, perhaps less.”

Despite the day’s heat, worry shivered through Robert. Italy was a big place. Even in London, it was possible for two people not to meet for weeks on end. Juliana no longer traveled as a Beguine. They had little need to fear Basti or his deputies, especially so far from Rome. Still, Robert would have preferred to avoid Italy altogether.

“You will replenish and repair at the first port, no doubt, Captain. We will continue on with you to England.”

The man cast a glance toward the money pouch tied to Robert’s belt. “I thank you for your confidence, Sir Robert. ’Tis a miracle that she still floats. However, repairs would cost more than I have, even had I a full cargo to sell. I am beggared. When we make land, all of us will have to find other means of getting to our destinations.”

Robert shrugged. “Such is the hazard of the seafaring life, is it not? I am sorry for your troubles, but thanks are all I have to offer for your care and your advice. So, thank you, Captain. ’Tis good to know what lies ahead.” Robert swallowed the last of his bread and walked off, wishing he knew if Basti lay ahead of them as well.

• • •

They made port the evening of the next day. Juliana stood at the ship’s rail; her cloak shrouded her borrowed sailor’s clothing, and her hair was tucked beneath a sailor’s cap. Robert stood by her side.

“I have spoken with the captain. He will stay here with you while I go to find lodgings for us. Tomorrow, I will visit the local authorities to obtain horses and supplies so that we may continue our journey with all possible speed.”

“Is speed so necessary?

Robert placed a gentle hand on her arm. “We cannot linger, Juliana.”

“Then why not another ship?”

He raised a brow at her. “Each captain I spoke with told me that almost every ship now in port suffers damage from that storm. ’Twill be several days before any vessel sets sail.”

“Basti,” she whispered.

“Aye.”

“Since we must ride,” he said more briskly, aware of the crew moving about them, “we must go quickly. Snow may already choke the mountain passes. If so, ’twill take much time crossing them.”

They fell silent, turning to watch the activity on the approaching dock.

The captain had been wrong about how far north they were. The port that lay before them sat a scant ten leagues south of Rome. They would have to pass through that great city on their way. To go around would take too much time.

Waiting for another ship was not an option. The longer they delayed their journey, the more likely Basti was to hear of Juliana’s presence. No, the roadways offered smaller risks, as long as they could escape the priest’s notice.

“As you wish,” she said. “But I still think that I should go with you.”

“Nay,” he said emphatically. “Any record of your name will get back to Basti.”

He watched her quail, despite her smile, at mention of the priest’s name.

“I could use a different name.”

He stared at her for a long while before replying. “Do you really think a different name will mislead a man like Basti?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“’Tis best if you stay aboard ship. If no one sees you in port, we won’t have to spend time we can ill afford to throw Basti off our trail.”

“Are you certain?”

“Absolutely. Until we are well past Rome, keep to your sailor’s clothing. It offers excellent disguise. Also, remain in our rooms whenever we stop for the night. Do this for my peace of mind, if not for your own safety.”

Juliana watched Robert’s long strides carry him onto dry land. She hoped he would find lodgings quickly. She yearned to escape from the boat’s rocking motion and feel solid ground beneath her feet.

Dusk crept in on a thick fog, and Robert still had not returned. She was tired of waiting, but he had asked her to remain on the ship. She paced the deck, finally settling at the aft rail behind the captain’s quarters and nearest the dock where she could watch for Robert’s return.

Freedom stretched before her, only a few steps away. Her feet itched to descend to the dock. But fear of watchers prevented her, as well as Robert’s request that she stay put.

She looked over her shoulder. From the bow of the ship, the captain nodded at her and moved away. The glow of his pipe disappeared around the tall stack made by the few items of cargo that had not fallen victim to the storm. She turned back to stare at the dock. ’Twas not the captain’s observation of her that made her skin crawl but rather the worry that Basti might find her, even here where no one knew of her.

What harm lay in a quick stroll down the dock and back to break the monotony of watching daylight fade to dark and the fog creep over the street? Was someone out there in the shadows of the buildings, waiting for her to take one step beyond the line of safety? The part of her that had once bashed the head of an intended bridegroom urged her to take the chance. What was life without a little risk, temptation whispered? She shook her head at her own folly. If she decided to take chances with her life, ’twould not be on a darkened dockside street in a strange city.

She stared at the shapes that seemed to shift in the gathering mist and shivered. Too much time alone had her imagining things. She turned to go in search of the captain.

She passed the cabin, headed for where she had last seen the man. A hand circled her arm and tugged. She was spun about, landing against a solid male form. Fear thundered in her chest. She opened her mouth to scream. A second hand covered her mouth before she could so much as squeak.

“Silence.”

The harsh whisper grated in her ears. She sagged against Robert’s arms as he wrapped both of them around her.

“You scared the life out of me,” she whispered back.

“I am sorry.”

“No matter. Now let me go.”