empty stomach was growing queasy from the motion. “I have a great deal to make up to my husband. Perhaps Miles was right and there was something I could have done the day you came to us in the crofter’s hut. You’ve never been one to listen to reason, but perhaps I could have at least tried.”
“You insult me! I have always been good to you.”
“No! You’ve always taken advantage of what good you’ve done for me. Now listen to me. However we got into this mess, we must get out. You must cooperate.”
“With a Montgomery?”
“With two Montgomerys!” she snapped.
For a few moments Roger was quiet. “Alice,” he muttered. “She brought me the letter from Gavin Montgomery’s wife. She knew where you were meeting your…”
“Husband,” Elizabeth supplied. “Oh Roger!” she gasped. “Nicholas. He’s with Alice, alone. We must get back to my son.”
Roger put his hand on her arm. “The child has a guard and they have orders not to let Alice near the boy. They won’t disobey me.”
“But what will happen to him if we don’t return?”
“No doubt the Montgomerys will take over his care.”
Their eyes met and it was a moment before Roger realized what he’d said. He was very close to admitting that, just perhaps, he’d been wrong in his accusations of the Montgomerys. Maybe all Elizabeth’s thousands of words had begun to sink in.
They turned, breath held, as the hatch door opened, and expelled it when Miles entered.
Elizabeth flew to him, clasped his neck, nearly knocking the bundles from his hands. “We think it was Alice who arranged everything. Oh my Miles, you weren’t hurt?”
Miles looked at her suspiciously. “You blow quickly from hot to cold and back again. No, I had no trouble. I brought food and clothes.” He tossed Roger a loaf of hard bread and handed a bundle of clothing to Elizabeth. After one glance at the bound and gagged sailor, silent, eyes wide open in fear, Miles sat down with Roger and Elizabeth.
Besides the bread, there was dried meat and a vile-tasting grog which Elizabeth gagged over.
“What did you see?” Roger asked.
Miles realized that Roger was swallowing a great deal of pride to ask such a question. “It’s an old ship, falling apart, and it’s run by a crew that’s mostly drunk or dying. If they know we’re prisoners, they’re not interested.”
“They sound like the type of men Alice would know,” Elizabeth said in disgust. “Are we headed toward France like you thought?”
“Yes. I recognize the coastline. When it’s dark we’ll slip out, take one of the rowboats and row ashore. I don’t want to risk a welcoming party when the ship docks.” He looked to Roger and Roger gave a nod of his head.
“And how do we get back to England?” Elizabeth asked, chewing.
“I have relatives about four days’ ride from where we’ll land. If we can get to them we should be safe enough.”
“Of course we have no horses or food to last us the journey,” Roger said, drinking deeply of the awful brew.
“Perhaps we can manage,” Miles said quietly, taking the jug. There was a slight emphasis on the word “we.”
“Yes, maybe we can,” Roger answered just as quietly.
They ate in silence and when they’d finished, Roger and Elizabeth dressed in the sailors’ clothes. The striped cotton shirt stretched taut across Elizabeth’s breasts and she was pleased to see a flicker of interest in Miles’s eyes. She’d already proved that though he might still be angry with her, he still desired her—and hadn’t he said he’d thought of her “every moment”?
When it grew even darker in the smelly little room, Miles again slipped up the ladder and this time he was gone a frighteningly long time. He returned empty-handed.
“I stocked the rowboat with all the food I could find.” He looked at Roger. “I must trust you to protect my back. Elizabeth will be between us.”
Roger, like Miles, was too tall to stand in the hold. Miles could pass as a sailor in his ill-fitting clothes, a day’s growth of black beard on his cheeks, his eyes wild and fierce, but Roger couldn’t. Roger’s heavier form had split the seams of the shirt and his aristocratic blondness could not be mistaken for that of a dirty seaman. And Elizabeth in the form-fitting clothes was hopeless. Her features were too delicate to ever look like a man’s.
Under the watchful eyes of the bound sailor who was trying to disappear into the woodwork, they made their way up the ladder. Miles stayed several paces ahead, a small knife in his hand. It was the only weapon he’d returned with and he’d offered no explanation as to how he’d obtained it.
The cool night air made Elizabeth realize how hideous the hold had been and her head began to clear as a breeze rushed over her. Miles caught her arm, giving a slight impatient jerk, and she gave her attention back to the moment.