"And you want to go with him?"
She searched his face. "I have to, Geoffrey. Can you understand?"
"Yes, my dear." The answer was soft as his lips touched her brow. "I do understand. And if it means anything, you have my full blessing."
"It means a great deal to me." Softly she smiled her thanks, but then her smile faded as a fresh urgency gripped her. "I only hope I am not too late. Nicholas meant to sail for the Caribbean at high tide."
"Then you have another hour or more. High tide will not come until close to ten o'clock. But you haven't much time to pack. You should go."
"Yes." She rose abruptly, her thoughts spinning feverishly as she tried to plan. She would return home long enough to gather some clothing and a few necessities for the weeks she would be at sea – Aurora stopped suddenly, remembering another obligation. "I should say farewell to Harry first and explain why I am leaving… although perhaps he won't mind excessively. He idolizes Nicholas."
"Harry is acquainted with him?" Geoffrey asked, puzzled.
Aurora returned an uncertain glance. "Nicholas has been posing as his American cousin, Brandon Deverill."
"Ah, Deverill," Geoffrey said wryly. "I heard an earful about the fellow when Harry recounted tales of his London excursion. My brother does indeed idolize him."
"Your mother won't be as forgiving, I imagine."
"Only because she doesn't yet know about my Simone. Once I tell her, she'll be more amenable to losing you. If you like," Geoffrey offered, "I shall escort you to your house and then to the docks. I take it that is where your Nicholas can be found?"
"Yes, but you needn't put yourself to such trouble."
"It is no trouble. And I confess I should like to meet the man who won your heart."
Aurora turned to go, her mind whirling with anticipation and anxiety. What if Nicholas had already sailed?
Then she would simply follow, a determined voice replied in her head. If he left without her, then she would hire a ship to take her to America. She would not let Nicholas get away.
He owned her heart and nothing else mattered.
Almost an hour had passed before Aurora found herself nearing the docks, feverishly searching for Nicholas's schooner, the Talon. The mist rising off the Thames obscured most of the ships alongside the wharf, but she remembered the general location from her last visit, and then she spied one vessel among the skeletal masts whose ghostly white sails had been raised.
The gangway was still in place for boarding, she saw with relief, although the crew was scurrying about, setting rigging and securing lines in preparation for casting off.
Geoffrey had some difficulty negotiating the gangway and winced when he stepped down onto the deck on his bad leg. They were immediately challenged by a seaman, who directed them to the captain. The captain, in turn, led them to the same cabin where Aurora had made love to Nicholas what seemed like a lifetime ago.
The cabin door was open, but at first she didn't see Nicholas. The man lounging on the bunk was his cousin, Lucian Tremayne, Lord Wycliff, while the nobleman sprawled elegantly in a wooden chair was Lord Clune.
Nicholas stood with his back to her, staring out the porthole window at the dark night. Aurora felt her heart wrench with love. Thank God she wasn't too late.
"Sir, you have visitors," the captain announced before making a polite bow and withdrawing.
She saw Nicholas go totally still, but the other two gentlemen rose to their feet.
"I do believe I've won our wager after all," Clune said in an amused drawl.
"So you have, Dare," Lucian replied. "But this is one wager I don't mind losing. Welcome, my lady. We were just bidding our American friend farewell."
Nicholas turned slowly, as if not daring to let himself hope. His gaze riveted on her face, his eyes dark and intense as he searched hers.
Aurora took a step inside the small cabin and halted, suddenly at a loss for words. How could she say all the things she wanted, needed, to say to Nicholas in front of an audience?
When she remained mute, his gaze dropped to her traveling suit, then moved beyond her to Geoffrey. Nicholas froze, his expression turning bleak.
"So you have come to say good-bye," he said tonelessly.
"No," she replied, her own voice hoarse.
Geoffrey intervened then.
"I don't believe we have met," he said, entering the cabin and taking a step past Aurora. "I am March." He offered his good arm to shake hands, but Nicholas made no attempt to accept.
"I understand why you would not welcome me," Geoffrey remarked lightly, not taking offense. "But you needn't be concerned. I am not your rival any longer. Aurora and I have reached an understanding."
"An understanding?" Nicholas replied warily, his face still shuttered.
"Yes. I believe your wife has something to tell you."
His gaze shifted again to Aurora, intense, questioning.
"I am not here to say good-bye," she said, returning his gaze steadily. "I am going with you."
For an instant she saw a blazing flash of what might be joy. Then suddenly his expression darkened with anger. He was looking beyond her at the doorway, Aurora realized.
Behind her she heard a voice she dreaded. "So, I wasn't wrong," Captain Gerrod said tersely. "You are Nicholas Sabine after all."
Her heart faltering, Aurora glanced over her shoulder. Gerrod stood in the doorway, a deadly pistol trained directly at Nicholas's heart.
Chapter Twenty-six
Only now do I understand: Bonds of love are stronger than the mightiest chains. There is no escaping.
As he stared at the deadly pistol, Nick felt a jolt of emotion stab at his heart – not fear but fury. No way in blazes would he allow Gerrod to take him prisoner. Not now, when he could dare hope that heaven was within his grasp.
His fingers clenched around the crystal snifter in his hand. With his friends earlier tonight, he'd plowed halfway through a consoling bottle of brandy in an attempt to drown his sorrows, even knowing no amount of spirits could numb the pain of losing Aurora. But he'd sobered abruptly when she appeared like an angel sprung from his fevered imagination.
Then Gerrod had shown himself, evidently having followed her to the docks. Unless perhaps March had somehow arranged it in order to eliminate his chief rival…? But this was no time to worry about how Gerrod had found him.
The captain pushed his way into the cabin, brushing past both Aurora and March. "In the name of the Crown," he intoned with no little satisfaction, "I am placing you under arrest, Sabine."
Nick's eyes narrowed as he measured the distance to the pistol. He could perhaps wrest the weapon away from Gerrod, but a struggle might well endanger Aurora. Was there a way other than physical violence? He wasn't certain he could count on his friends' intervention. They were British citizens, after all, and it would be treasonous to interfere with a naval officer in the execution of his duty. This was his fight, in any case.
When Nicholas remained silent, Gerrod took another step toward him. "What do you have to say for yourself, Saber?"
Nick smiled. "I say get the hell off my ship, Captain."
Gerrod scowled. "I have every right to apprehend you. You will accompany me – "
"Or what? You will shoot me in cold blood?"
"If you force me to. But I would rather see you dancing on the end of a rope. There are a half dozen of my men waiting on the dock to escort you to Newgate prison, where your sentence will be carried out."
Casually, without appearing to move, Nicholas balanced on the balls of his feet, preparing to spring. Just then, however, his cousin spoke up.