Smuggler's Moon

by Cynthia Wright

  “Of course not, my lord, but we happen to know that he is in a position to offer you the best kind of assistance. Not only is Captain Raveneau the owner of several extremely fine ships, some of which are anchored at Falmouth, but he has wisdom and experience—”

  “I suggest that you stop talking before you insult me outright.” Taking Lucifer’s reins from the manservant, he walked down the hill toward the stables. “I shall expect an apology from you after this first expedition has reached an immensely satisfactory conclusion!”

  * * *

  While Sebastian was having a bath, and the household servants were occupied with keeping it hot enough for his comfort, Julia sneaked Daisy upstairs. Trevarre Hall was a maze of small chambers, and she had converted one into her dressing room. It was much more than a place to keep her clothing, though; it held the trunk she had brought from Turbans, filled with cherished books and all the keepsakes she had gathered in nature.

  Now, after quickly changing her torn gown, Julia brought the badger cub to the bed she had made inside an empty drawer. It was filled with rags and handfuls of meadow grass, which she hoped would smell like home. Daisy, however, continued to sleep and her snout was warm and dry.

  “Look what I’ve brought you, little girl,” Julia whispered. From her dressing chest, she fetched a small wooden bowl containing a handful of walnuts and some freshly excavated earthworms. As a child, she had read in one of the books from her father’s shop that badgers liked to eat small rodents, insects, berries, and nuts, but their favorite food was earthworms. She’d never forgotten it.

  Now, to her delight, Daisy began to sniff. Carefully, Julia crouched beside the little cub, took one of the earthworms, and put it on her black mouth. A few moments later, Daisy’s tongue came out and half the worm was gone. Julia was flooded with relief and elation. She wanted to hold Daisy in her arms and pet her, but for now she knew she must keep her distance.

  “I don’t believe my eyes.”

  The sound of Sebastian’s voice was so unexpected that Julia gasped out loud. As she looked up to find him towering over her, frowning, her first thought was for Daisy.

  “You might have knocked!”

  “The door was ajar.” He was wearing a slate gray dressing gown, his hair was damp, and he held a glass of brandy in one exceedingly attractive hand. “For God’s sake, Julia, what the devil are you doing with a badger in my house? It’s a wild animal and you could be hurt!”

  She scrambled up from the floor to face him, determined to protect Daisy. “I’ll have you know that this is my house, too, whether you like it or not.”

  “See here, I didn’t mean to imply—”

  “And she is not a ‘thing.’ Her name is Daisy.”

  “You are outrageous.”

  She faced him unblinkingly. “Would you care to sit and discuss this as two adults?”

  He sat on a hard bench by the chamber’s single mullioned window. “I am listening.”

  Surprised, she joined him, but kept a little space between them. “Thank you.”

  Julia quickly became aware of his potent magnetism. Sebastian’s sage-gray eyes were hooded and the candlelight threw shadows under his cheekbones and over his hard, sensual mouth. As she glimpsed the damp surface of his chest through the loose front of the dressing gown that he dared to wear without a stitch underneath, Julia knew exactly how he would smell if she pressed her face there.

  Instinctively, she shifted farther away and started to tip off the edge of the bench. Sebastian reached out with one hand and pulled her back just before she lost her balance and toppled to the floor. Now their legs were touching.

  “Perhaps you’d like a sip of brandy to calm your nerves,” he offered.

  Julia sighed. “All right.” She welcomed the burn of it on her throat, and the warmth that spread over her.

  “You can drink it all if you’d like. I have another bottle.” A faint smile touched his mouth. “Are you ready to tell me why there is a badger in your dressing room?”

  She stared at Daisy’s still form, nestled in the drawer that was now her bed. “I came upon her while walking home today from Pont. Her back leg was caught in a snare, and although at first I thought she might be dead, she was not. I brought her home and Keswick helped me remove the rest of the snare and clean the wound.” After another sip of brandy, she handed the glass back to him. “I brought her upstairs for the night because I know that she might need me. She may not survive until morning.”

  “You just carried an injured badger through the woods all by yourself? Are you aware that they bite, especially when hurt and afraid?”

  “Daisy is only a cub. She wasn’t very heavy, and I made a covering for her out of part of my gown. I wrapped it completely around her, so she felt snug and safe, and she couldn’t see me if she did awaken.”

  “Sometimes it seems impossible that you are gently born and bred, and that I met you in the elegant town of Bath.” Sebastian shook his head. “You are like a wild creature yourself. You won’t be tamed, no matter what anyone says.”

  “It’s quite true that I will not be tamed, especially by you.” She wrinkled her nose and looked away from him.

  “Is the concept of a wife’s deference to her husband so impossible to accept?”

  She pretended not to hear him. “Part of the reason I love Cornwall, and don’t miss Bath in the least, is that I can be myself here. Being in nature, especially in this place, allows me a sense of freedom that I have yearned for all my life.”

  Sebastian’s gaze moved around the crowded chamber until it fell on the open trunk that overflowed with her treasures. “Do I see a bird’s nest there? Are there more animals in this room that I don’t know about?”

  “No. That’s the trunk you asked about when it was strapped atop the coach at the Raveneaus’ house in London.”

  “You said it held books…and keepsakes, as I recall.”

  “It does.” Julia went to kneel beside the chest. “The books are packed on the bottom, and the top is filled with treasures that I have collected since I was a tiny girl—not gems or gold, but treasures of nature.” She held up two long, white swans’ feathers. “I still remember finding this one when I was just four years old, and the other belongs to our swan at Pont. Do you know that her cygnets have hatched? I saw them swimming today!” She turned to the nest he’d mentioned. “This belonged to a song thrush. Can you see the speckled eggshell that remains inside? And these are shells that I gathered during a family holiday in Devon.”

  As Julia lifted the keepsakes one by one and described them, Sebastian rose and crossed over to sit on the floor beside her, leaning against the wall and stretching out his legs so that his bare calves were exposed against the oaken floor.

  “My favorite times, growing up, were when we left London for the countryside,” she said, growing animated as the memories cascaded back. “Sometimes we visited Cousin Archibald at Turbans, and I would wander over the grounds and gardens for hours. My mother’s sister lived in Moreton-in-Marsh, in the Cotswolds, and I found some of my best treasures there: flowers and leaves to press, and many of the prettiest stones. My father often walked with me, just the two of us, and it was he who taught me about the birds and animals we saw.”

  Sebastian leaned forward and wiped a tear from her cheek, watching her intently.

  “When we would return to London, Papa would take me to his bookshop and give me beautiful books about the wildlife we had seen, many with hand-painted illustrations. He always inscribed the date and a little message inside.” She looked into the trunk and gave a deep sigh. “I have them all, still.”

  “We must make a proper case for them,” he said quietly. “For all of your things. One with glass doors, to protect them from our clumsy servants—and Dick the cat, who we know can’t be trusted. Would you like that?”

  Julia closed her eyes and allowed herself the luxury of leaning against his shoulder. “I would, very much. Thank you.”

  Sebastian ga
thered her onto his lap and held her close. Something in the air seemed to dissolve the armor he usually wore so relentlessly. “I am sorry that you lost your father, Julia, but at least you have good memories of your years together. At least he was a loving father to you.”

  “Yes, that’s true, and a comfort,” she whispered. “Sebastian, won’t you tell me more about your father?”

  He fought the instinct to lift her away and get to his feet. “Ah, well…there’s nothing to say that you would enjoy hearing, I’m afraid. It’s really a subject that’s best discarded.”

  “Please.”

  His eyes stung. He wanted to ask her what she was doing to him, and how, but instead he turned his rough cheek against her soft curls and surrendered, just a bit. “There isn’t much to tell. My father couldn’t be bothered with me, nor really with any of us, though he did give George some attention because he was the heir. I’m not even certain if he ever cared for my mother. He wore her on his arm like an expensive jewel, and whenever she was in his presence, there seemed to be a shadow over her.”

  “How sad.”

  “I warned you—”

  “I want to hear it. You know all the nasty bits about my family, after all.”

  They shared a grim smile before he continued, “My father often had business in France and he insisted that Mother be at his side, always. It was almost as if he was afraid that she might run away if he left her behind. So, we came quite frequently to Cornwall, especially in the summer, and they would sail on to France. Even as a young boy, I pleaded to stay at Severn Park with the horses, but as soon as Father discerned my true wishes, he always did the opposite.”

  “And then something bad happened…?”

  “Yes, at the time, it seemed impossibly bad.” The only person Sebastian had ever spoken to about that day was Keswick. All his instincts urged him to stop this conversation with Julia, and yet when she turned toward him with a gaze that was at once direct and compassionate, he felt an invisible barrier give way deep inside. “I never liked Cornwall or Trevarre Hall. The people seemed odd to me, and many still spoke Cornish, which I couldn’t understand. The Hall was gloomy. My mother wanted to make improvements, but Father was always impatient to leave. I sometimes felt that we only came so that they could leave me behind here…”

  “What about your brother? Was he not with you?”

  “No. George was either away at school, or with my parents.” In a tone that dripped acid, he added, “My father was obsessed with instructing him in the endless duties of the aristocracy.”

  Julia wrinkled her nose, but made no reply, and Sebastian continued, “One summer when I was fourteen, Mother took pity on me and persuaded my father to let me bring Apollo, my favorite horse, with us from Severn Park. He wasn’t used to the twisting tracks or the hedgerows, though, and one day, as we descended that steep path that drops down to Pont, a heron took flight and spooked him. Apollo reared up, then lost his footing, fell, and broke his leg. I heard it snap. I had no choice but to leave him alone, writhing, and go for help.”

  Julia continued to listen quietly, her eyes soft with emotion. When Sebastian’s voice caught, she reached for his strong hand and squeezed it. “Truly, I cannot imagine.”

  He took a painful breath as the past returned in a flood. “God, I hate talking about this! I ran full out back to the Hall and brought Keswick, who was our stable master, back with me. Of course he told me that nothing could be done.” Tears clouded his vision. “I held Apollo while Keswick shot him. It was the most horrible moment of my life. I knew that it could never have happened in Hampshire, only in a wild, terrible place like Cornwall, and I hated it here more than ever. Later, when my father learned of Apollo’s fate, he blamed my horsemanship, my judgment, and he said—”

  After a long moment, Julia whispered, “Yes?”

  “He said, ‘Be a man! If you can’t hold onto the things you want, you don’t deserve to have them.’ I despised him.”

  “I am so very sorry. What a tragic experience for a boy to suffer!”

  Abruptly, Sebastian felt that the walls of the tiny room were closing in on him and he had to get away. As he disengaged from Julia and rose to his feet, he muttered, “Yes, well, it happened, and it’s best left in the past where it belongs.”

  She scrambled to her feet, too, and touched his arm. “Your father was an appalling person!”

  “Exactly so,” he replied. “He was just as unpleasant as he looked in that portrait downstairs. And now you know why I didn’t want to discuss him with you.”

  “You mustn’t let him poison your life, Sebastian.”

  “On the contrary, I never think of him.” His composure restored, he crossed the cluttered chamber to look into the drawer that served as a warm, snug bed for the badger cub. “If it lives, you can’t keep it, you know.”

  “Of course I know that, but what a thing to say—”

  “It’s a wild animal. If it survives the night, you must release it.”

  “Stop calling Daisy it, as if she didn’t really matter.”

  “All right then, you must release her as soon as possible. She’ll be needing to return to her sett, to her family, to the pleasures of her life searching the hedgerows for worms and wasp nests. Hopefully, her family will welcome her back.”

  “It’s hard to believe, looking at her so small and helpless, that she is a wild creature.”

  “Indeed? Have you taken a close look at her claws?” Sebastian found his glass of brandy and took a long drink. “I need some air. Will you excuse me?”

  “Of course.” Julia’s voice had gone flat.

  Ducking to exit through the low door to the little dressing room, he resisted a strong urge to look back at her.

  Chapter 21

  Peaceful Lerryn Creek, tucked away off the River Fowey, was so wide that many called it a river. Just before the quaint village of Lerryn, there was an inlet that branched north, but few vessels sailed in that direction unless they were visiting the Penrose estate of Lanwyllow.

  The manor house that stood a good distance away on the top of the densely wooded hill, had its own boathouse, and farther up the inlet an old stone quay nestled against the hull of the light, two-masted lugger Tristan called the Peregrine. Leafy green branches bent all around the craft, providing effective camouflage.

  “This is one of the most beautiful places in Cornwall, I believe,” Sebastian said to Tristan as they stood on the scrubbed deck. “Julia would be enchanted.”

  The younger man glanced over, brows raised. “Perhaps I’ll bring her here while you are at sea. Would you mind?”

  Sebastian felt unaccountably annoyed. “Why would I mind? But I wouldn’t recommend it. She might get into mischief here. She’s much too clever for her own good, and who knows what she might notice.”

  “I see. All right then.” But Tristan’s expression suggested that he didn’t see at all.

  “She’ll lead you on a merry chase as it is. Did I tell you that I came home yesterday to discover that she’d rescued an injured badger and brought it into our house? By tonight, she may have dressed it in a lace gown and be rocking it in a cradle.”

  “Her ladyship has a very tender heart,” Tristan said, smiling. “If she sees fit to lead me on a merry chase, I will be happy to follow.”

  Sebastian knew an urge to toss his friend overboard. Instead, he changed the subject before his temper got the better of him. “Your friend at the Polruan boatyard has done well with these sails he has added to Peregrine. But, there is a great deal yet to do if we are to sail with the tide. Why don’t you show me the other alterations he made before we meet with Jasper and Keswick?”

  Tristan led the way past the crewmembers who were laboring to make certain that everything was in working order for tomorrow’s voyage. Although Keswick was on hand to oversee preparations, the crew had been well prepared and needed little supervision.

  Below decks, space was severely limited. There were a couple of dark, tiny cabins fo
r crew members, outfitted only with bunks and buckets. Between the cabins, Tristan paused to touch a panel on the bulkhead. It gave to the pressure of his fingers, revealing a generous length of hollow space.

  “Voila,” he murmured with a roguish grin. “Perfectly sized for casks of brandy.”

  “Well done.”

  “There are several more false bulkheads like that, all expertly concealed, and a secret cargo hold that will be perfect for the rather bulky salt you intend to transport.”

  “Very ingenious.” Sebastian surveyed the surroundings and rubbed his jaw. “I’m impressed, though I must confess that this lugger is a far cry from the ship I served on with the Royal Navy. I wasn’t really prepared for how small it would be.”

  “A bigger vessel couldn’t maneuver these tidal creeks, with their fluctuating water levels. And since most smuggling ships are even smaller and more spartan than this, I think you’ll approve of your own quarters. If you will follow me…” Tristan crooked his finger and led him to the captain’s cabin. It was the only one that allowed any light to come in, through a modest transom that spanned the Peregrine’s stern. Although the space was restricted, there was a comfortable-looking bunk. A compact desk was built in nearby, and there was extra storage and a wooden binnacle to hold the captain’s extra navigational equipment.

  Sebastian gave a dry smile. “It will do nicely. I’ll let Keswick organize my things, since he hasn’t given up on being my manservant.” Pausing, he took a good look around. “There isn’t a hidden compartment in here, is there? I can’t see any sign of one.”

  “Excellent!” Laughing, Tristan approached the bunk. There was already a latched door that opened to a storage area, large enough to hold the captain’s trunk, but the expanse of varnished wood next to it was completely smooth. Tristan pressed there and an opening appeared, swinging back on concealed hinges. Behind this secret panel was a cavity that extended beyond the bunk and spanned the width of the ship.