For a moment her cousin remained silent, as if giving her time to compose herself. Then he took her hands in a gentle grasp. "My dear, this is obviously a wretched time, but I have a serious matter to discuss with you."
Still numb with shock, Aurora scarcely heard what her cousin was saying.
"There has been an unanticipated turn of events." He paused, a troubled look on his face. "Nicholas Sabine has a… request to make of you."
"A request?" she repeated hoarsely.
"I spoke with Nick after the admiral's decision became known," Percy explained in a low voice, "and he sought my opinion of a rather wild notion. I did not refuse him outright, for I thought you should hear him out and decide for yourself. It is an extraordinary proposal… but then these are extraordinary circumstances."
"I… don't understand. What does he wish to ask of me?"
"He would like your help, actually. It seems he has a duty he must fulfill, yet now he will no longer be alive to do so."
"What duty?"
"Sabine has a ward, a half sister who lives on Montserrat. The young lady urgently needs the protection of someone of your consequence, as well as an escort to England. And since you are planning to return there shortly… Well, there is more, but I don't want to influence you unduly. You should hear the proposal directly from Sabine himself. If you are willing to listen, I will accompany you to the fortress at once."
"You mean now, at this moment?" Aurora asked in confusion.
"Yes, now." He released her hands. "Time is growing short, I'm afraid. The hanging has been put off until tomorrow, but after that…"
His voice trailed off, yet Aurora was grateful that he failed to put the rest of his sentence into words.
She had never again expected to see the bold American who had touched her life so fleetingly. Thus it was with a heavy heart that Aurora returned to the fortress prison. She felt a hollowness in the pit of her stomach as she preceded her cousin into the dim cell.
Nicholas Sabine stood with his back to her, a shaft of sunlight gilding his fair hair. He was fully clothed this time, she noted absently. Someone – perhaps Percy – had provided him with a coat and a pair of Hessian boots, so that he more closely resembled a gentleman of means than a savage pirate or a condemned prisoner.
When he turned slowly to face her, however, he still had the same powerful effect on her; she felt her heart quicken in her chest as she met the dark intensity of his gaze.
"Thank you for coming," he said in a quiet voice. He glanced at her cousin. "Might I presume further upon our friendship, Sir Percy, and ask that you allow us a few moments in private? Lady Aurora will come to no harm, I give you my word."
Percy nodded, although reluctantly. "Very well. I shall wait outside in the corridor, my dear."
Her cousin withdrew, leaving the door partly ajar. Sabine's half smile was fleeting, almost ironic, as he noted the precaution.
Returning his gaze to Aurora then, he gestured with his hand, indicating the cot. "Would you care to sit down, Lady Aurora? I think you might want to be seated to hear what I have to say."
"Thank you, but I prefer to stand," she replied politely.
"As you wish."
His dark gaze was riveted on her as he contemplated her in silence. Aurora withstood his piercing assessment with uncertainty, wondering what he intended to ask. When he didn't speak, her gaze went to the bandage at his temple. It seemed clean and a bit smaller than yesterday, as if it had been freshly changed. She was about to inquire how his head wound was faring when he spoke.
"What has Percy told you?" Sabine asked.
"Only that you need my help for your sister."
"I do." He eyed her speculatively another moment, then turned to pace about the small cell like a caged cat – lithe, graceful, on edge. "You may call me mad, but I ask you to hear me out fully before you decide."
His sense of urgency communicated itself to her, making her uneasy. "Very well, Mr. Sabine," Aurora prodded. "I am listening."
"I suppose I should begin by telling you a story – a love story, if you will. But I fear it may shock a lady of tender sensibilities. Are you game to hear it?"
"Yes," Aurora murmured doubtfully.
He continued to stalk the floor, keeping his voice low as he spoke. "There once was a man – an American – who went to England and fell in love. The lady returned his affection, but any union between them was doomed from the start. Not only was she quite young, but her family would never have permitted her to wed beneath her class. Even more damning, he already had a wife and a young son, with another child expected shortly.
"Refusing to dishonor her or his marriage vows, he left England, determined to vanquish his feelings and never see the young lady again. But business concerns required his return a few years later, and he discovered her nearly in despair. She was to wed an older gentleman whose physical deformities rendered him a monster in her eyes: As his bride, she would reside on her husband's remote estate, away from everything she held dear.