“Indeed, I admire your trust in Lord Harkom,” Crispin remarked. “He’s hardly renowned for dealing honestly with anyone.”
“Come on, Faith.” Lady Vernon ignored him. “I’m going to lock you in your cabin now where you can expect a visit from Lord Harkom as soon as he’s feeling up to you. As for you, Mr Westaway,” she shot him a look as if unsure what to do, then shrugged. “I daresay I can’t order you to your cabin, and these sailors apparently won’t take orders from any but their captain, so enjoy your view of the high seas. I’ll be glad when land is sighted. Like Lord Harkom, I was not made for boat travel.”
There was only so long that Crispin could spend in the biting wind. When he went in, he tried Faith’s door, but it was securely bolted. He tried Lord Harkom’s door and found that similarly bolted from the inside. However, instead of the silence that had greeted him when he’d knocked lightly for Faith, he could hear retching and a drawn-out groan from the other side.
On the quarterdeck, he located the bosunthe only crew member who could speak English it appearedand asked him if Lord Harkom was in need of assistance.
“Like the ol’ woman, the seas ain’t the thing fer ’igh-born stomachs. All ‘e needs is ter put ‘is two flat feet on summat that doesn’t move.”
“Is Lord Harkom so seasick?”
The bosun sniggered. “Can’t drag ‘imself from ‘is bunk.”
“And how is the young lady who is locked in her room supposed to eat her dinner?”
“I’ll take summat to ’er. The gennulman gave me orders ter see she were well attended.”
“If his lordship is so indisposed, perhaps you’d allow her some fresh air at the same time she takes some refreshment.”
“I can do that fer ‘er if it’s worth me while.” The bosun offered him a gap-toothed grin, and Crispin obligingly dug into his pocket and withdrew a pound note. The bosun’s eyes grew large. “She can ‘ave all the time an’ all the vittels she wants, sir,” he said, taking the note with a shifty glance to ensure he’d not been observed by any of his fellows.
Crispin went to his bunk and lay down.
He presumed they were not going to dock within the next few hours, perhaps longer. And it had been a very long day already. But how could he sleep after Lady Vernon’s ominous words?
Lord Harkom was involved in the white slave trade, and Faith was his next victim.
He’d learned that she’d been ready to consume a vial of poison and kill herself only a few hours before. What might she contemplate doing now? The thought terrified him, but he was powerless to help her. Yet again, he’d failed her.
Despite his best efforts, sleep claimed him at last, and when he woke at the sound of his door being slowly opened, he was refreshed enough to have a weapon ready. The candlestick was clutched in his right fist, and Lord Harkom was going to receive the full force of a hefty blow until, in the darkness, he heard Faith’s tentative voice.
“Crispin. Can I slide in next to you? There’s not much room, is there?”
Her words sounded so ridiculous under the circumstances that he laughed as he drew aside the covers and brought her close against his side.
She rested her head on his shoulder, and he stroked her face, staring into the darkness.
“The bosun forgot to bolt the door when he took me my food.” She laughed. “Can you believe that?”
“I can.”
“Of course, it was you, wasn’t it? And here I am.” She snuggled in closer and hooked one thigh over his, partly to stop from falling out of bed, he supposed, while a tremor of longing shook him to the bone.
“And Lord Harkom is terribly indisposed. He hasn’t left his stateroom since he spoke to us.” She sighed. “Maybe he’s afraid of being accosted by you, Crispin.”
“A terrifying proposition.” Crispin felt his inadequacy. “Harkom is a champion pugilist, and I’m hardly fighting material. No, he knows he holds the upper hand. As soon as his strength returns, he’ll carry on as he pleases.” He began to stroke her cheek. It was soft and smooth, but also hot to the touch. In the darkness, he imagined its flush of colour. He’d have liked to have been able to see her. He was a painter, after all. But simply touching her filled him with a deep peacefulness. “He may also choose to stay in his room because he realises he’s miscalculated. He’s on a boat that wasn’t prearranged for nefarious dealings. The crew will answer only to the captain, and the captain has no interest in breaking the law. Harkom realises this, I think.”
“Then we could enlist the captain’s help?”
“I’ve tried. The captain says his orders are to take us to Rotterdam, and that’s all he’ll do. He’s not taking sides.
“Will you kiss me, Crispin?”
“It might be dangerous.”
“I like danger.”
He found her lips easily in the dark. She’d been waiting for him, and she drew him into the kiss with a light hand upon his cheek.
He’d not been exaggerating when he’d voiced concern about the danger. The simple touch of his lips against hers ignited him from within. The feel of her breasts pressing against him, harder with each rising breath, became a conflagration that threatened to consume him.
“I love you, Crispin,” she whispered, shifting over him so that her body covered his and his hand came in contact with her naked thigh when he sought to hold her as the ship pitched.
“And you, Faith. I love you, too.”
She wriggled a little, and suddenly she was positioned directly above him, and he was straining to keep his basest impulses in check. But her hand was on him, her little fingers working the buttons of his trousers, and he was in no doubt what she wanted.
There were no words to be said. No doubts or fears to be allayed. Their time was limited and their need for one another all consuming.
He skimmed her smooth, moist thighs until his hand was on her heated mound. With a sigh, she cupped his cheek and kissed him more deeply.
The need to protect her was uppermost in his mind, but so was his need to communicate his real feelings for this brave and beautiful young woman.
She wanted him. She was ready for him. She made that clear enough as she felt for him.
Another pitch of the boat, and he was as one with the woman for whom he’d sacrifice everything.
Their sleep was short, but deep and reviving.
When Crispin awoke, it was to find Faith gazing down at him, her eyes luminous in the gloom.
“Lord Harkom will come for me soon, and you won’t be able to stop him. I don’t want you to die in some fruitless attempt to save me.” Her voice was determined; her mouth clenched.
“And fail you a second time? Lord, Faith, we were so nearly man and wife. How different things would have been if the timing had been in our favour. We might not be bound before the law, but I feel as if we are.”
“You didn’t fail me before. Circumstances conspired to put us both in an impossible position.” She hesitated. “I don’t blame you for believing what everyone else did. And nor do I blame you for not following through on a marriage that would have bound you to a woman who would surely have ruined your career.”
“Oh Faith, my career is not as a diplomat, I see that now.” He stroked her cheek. “You made me see that. This last year has been anathema to me. I thought following the path that would make my father happy would earn me his approval. But, here with you…” It was difficult to put his feelings into words. “You’re what’s important, Faith.”
“Because of that letter? Because you think that you’re no better than me after all?” She twisted within the circle of his arm and looked down at him. “How can it be proved?”
Already, Crispin’s mind was turning on what the immediate future held for both of them. The question of his origins seemed almost unimportant when he very much feared he’d not ever make it home to England. If Harkom really planned to spirit Faith away using a distribution ring that had yielded success and financial rewards in the past, he’d not s
cruple at disposing of a man he not only hated for personal reasons, but who had the power to see him face the noose.
Faith seemed to grasp this at the same time for she gripped his arm tighter. “Crispin, what are you thinking? That it doesn’t matter? But it does. It matters because you will escape. You will return to England, where you’ll prove that you’re every bit the son your father would be proud of. I’m sure he is very proud of you, even if he doesn’t show it. Yes, I overheard your conversation the last night before I left. That’s when I realised I could never make you happy. Not if I were the reason you’d have to make a choice between your father’s wishes and your own.”
He held her tighter and felt a stab of pain for what she must have experienced to have been so belittled by a man Crispin felt less and less affiliation with, regardless of his true parentage.
What he had, now, was what he had to fight for. Faith was his responsibility; his true love. If they survived their ordeal, he’d sacrifice everything for her.
“As long as I have breath in my body, I will fight for you, Faith,” he vowed.
“I will not be a burden.” She pressed her lips together. “Love does not survive when it means sacrifice and duty at the cost of what’s truly in your heart. I pushed for you to marry me—quickly—because I was afraid for my future. Yes, my future. I didn’t think about yours, Crispin; only that I believed I could make everything up to you by making you happy…pleasing you during the years we had together as man and wife. I’ve been taught how to please men. Yes, listen to me and don’t shy away from the awful truth. When I met you, it was by design. I’d spent three years groomed in how to entice you. You owe me nothing. You certainly don’t owe me your life!”
He felt her tears raining down upon his chest, and tenderly brushed her wet cheek with his fingertip. “My dearest Faith. Because of you, I feel more alive in this moment than I ever have. I owe you everything!” He kissed her again. And then, because he was afraid of her wilfulness, he cupped her face as he angled himself over her, and said softly, “Your place is by my side. While you are here, I will do all in my power to protect you. I would give my life to see you safe, Faith. You need to know that.”
And Faith was very much afraid that this would be the cost Lord Harkom would extract.
She also knew the time would come, sooner rather than later, when her nemesis would recover sufficiently to make his overtures.
When she was sure Crispin was sleeping, Faith quietly climbed out of their shared bunk and slipped out of the room.
Breathing in the fresh air on deck, she spied land and her heart sank. On board the ship, they had the protection of the crew who, although they’d offered little in the way of overt assistance, nevertheless refused to lock them up.
And, with Lord Harkom so indisposed, Lady Vernon had not enforced Faith’s prisoner status. But soon matters would come to a head.
She tapped softly on the door. “Lord Harkom, it’s me, Faith. I’m alone, and I want to speak to you.” The sound of footsteps made her cringe, and hurriedly she added, “I have a crew member with me so don’t try to take advantage. I just need to speak to you.” She glanced over her shoulder at the Frenchman who showed no understanding, but who stood implacably nearby, as she’d requested.
“I’ll go with you willingly if you’ll release Crispin,” she said, leaping back with a squeal when he flung open the door.
He looked ill and haggard, his appearance not improved by the ironic curl of his lip. “Do you think that’ll please me, Faith?” He laughed. “To have you submit to me, meek as a little lamb.” This time he threw back his head and indulged in his mirth even more. “Why, what did Madame Chambon teach you? Certainly not how to tread carefully with men of my proclivities which, I daresay, is all to the good. Now, where’s your Mr Westaway. I was feeling mightily indisposed a few minutes ago and certain I’d not have the strength to crawl from my bed, but your delightful little proposition has fired me up.”
Faith darted back at his approach, but he gripped her shoulder to stop her fleeing and barked out the order, in French, to the seaman behind her, to fetch Mr Westaway.
“I’m already here,” Crispin announced, arriving behind Faith and attempting to pull her to his side.
“The little wench has offered herself to me, Westaway, so hands off, thank you.” Harkom waved a pistol in his face.
Faith died inside to see the expression on Crispin’s face, and to realise how badly she’d compromised both their safety.
“Yes, she came here, of her own volition, and offered herself to me if I’d allow you to return home safely. Isn’t that sweet? Especially considering the way you treated her all those months ago. Now” With a jerk of his wrist, Faith found herself in the circle of Harkom’s arm, before he’d pinned her by her neck, his other hand holding the revolver.
“How easy to claim self-defence for your death, Westaway,” he snarled. “But that would be letting you off too easily. No, you can come in and watch your beloved debase herself at my command. And you will die, knowing that her fate is to do the same for the pleasure of the various Far Eastern nabobs who are willing to pay a high price for an English princess with the treasured golden hair and white skin.”
Unable to move, Faith shuddered as he caressed her cheeks, sliding his hand the length of her neck to skim her décolletage.
“Stop!” Crispin lunged forward but was halted by a sharp crack as Harkom fired in the air.
“Yes, loaded, in case you thought otherwise. Now, would you kindly step inside, Miss Montague. I’ve been waiting for this a long time now.”
Faith screamed and gripped the lintel as Lord Harkom proceeded to pull her inside, slamming the door in Crispin’s face.
“You can listen to her wail and beg, Westaway!” he shouted. “Unfortunately, I can’t do what I have to do and keep my pistol trained on you.”
Raising his leg high, Crispin kicked at the door, but it held fast. He could hear Faith’s whimpers within and the sound of Harkom’s harsh laughter, before the thud of a body landing on the ground.
He tried to kick in the door, but it was solid, and locked.
“Faith! Are you all right! Harkom! For God’s sake! You don’t need to do this to have your revenge on me. You can shoot me now if it’ll please you! Let her go!”
Another muffled cry from Faith was too much. With a howl of rage, Crispin hurled himself against the door, but still it would not yield.
“You might have more luck if you had a key, Mr Westaway.”
Crispin turned at Lady Vernon’s silken tones. She looked like a crow of ill portent as she hovered at the end of the corridor, her back to the light so Crispin could see only her illuminated form. And then he heard the clink of keys, and saw she held up the keyring upon which a dozen keys dangled.
“No! Don’t, please don’t!” Faith’s cry from indoors was tortuous, but Lady Vernon seemed unaffected.
“Don’t try to take it from me or I’ll cast it overboard,” she warned as he began to stride towards her. “I’ll give it to you on one condition.” The sea was only a few feet from her. She could throw it over her shoulder with ease, and he would never have it.
“What is your condition?” There wasn’t much time, but if he could save Faith from Harkom’s final assault he’d agree to anything.
“I fear we’re being followed.” With a jerk of her thumb she indicated a schooner much closer than Crispin would have believed. There was no time to investigate further, but it seemed to be heading straight for them. “If we are apprehended, you’d better swear on your life that you’ll say Harkom took me captive, as Faith’s chaperone. Do that, and not only will you have the key, you’ll have my testimony as to what he’s been doing. Otherwise,” she shrugged, “I can’t see there will be any case for Harkom to answer. Not to mention there’s the matter with the letter from your fond, cash-strapped mother. Your real mother, that is.”
“Give me the key and you have my word.”
And then
it was in his hand, and Crispin was striding back down the corridor, inserting the rusty key, and thrusting open the doorway upon a scene of vile degradation.
Faith knew there was no point in struggling, and yet she could not do otherwise. To submit without a fight went against any grain of survival instinct she had, while the hope she could cause Harkom damage made the penalty she’d pay worth it.
“You are more a fighter than I gave you credit for, Faith. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to break you in,” he panted as he caged her body with his.
“I’ll die fighting, Lord Harkom,” she vowed, jerking her head upwards to try and bite his ear.
He slapped her then, and she yelped with the pain, her world hazing into red and black for a moment before her consciousness became refocused on what he was doing with his other hand.
She tried to wriggle free for it was now beneath her skirts, while his other was busy unbuttoning himself. She felt like a moth in the maw of a giant, deadly spider, and her efforts were futile.
Crispin was just on the other side of the door, but it was solid, and he was as helpless as she. If she could only lie still. Stop herself from reacting and it might be better for all of them. Harkom might lose the ability, even, if he were confronted by meek passivity.
It would certainly be better for Crispin who’d be tormented by what he was helpless to remedy.
“You’ll die, any way I take you. You’ll die in a Turkish harem far away from here, unmourned by any, Faith, for you gave up your right to respect a long time ago.”
“And you did not, Lord Harkom?”
“Ah Faith, but you are a fine sparring partner. Why did I not make you my mistress when I could have set you up so nicely after Westaway forsook you?”
“I never forsook her!”
Keeping Faith Page 30