Velvet Angel Read online

  “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.

  There were three men on deck—one at the helm, two sauntering about on opposite sides of the ship.

  Miles ducked, to disappear in a tangle of enormous ropes, and instantly Roger and Elizabeth followed his example. Crouching until her legs ached, they inched along the ship wall, slowly, carefully so as to make no sound.

  When Miles stopped, he waved an arm and Roger seemed to understand. He slipped over the side of the ship, and Elizabeth held her breath, expecting to hear a splash as Roger fell, but none came. The next moment Miles motioned her over, too. Without another thought, she threw a leg over the side of the ship and the rest of her followed. Roger caught her and silently lowered her to a seat in the rowboat.

  Her heart was pounding as she watched Roger, Miles helping from above, begin to lower the little boat down the side of the ship. Muscles in Roger’s arms strained as he took the weight, not letting it drop and hit the water loudly. Elizabeth made a move to help but Roger impatiently motioned her away. As she moved back to her seat, her foot caught on something. It was all she could do to stifle a scream as she saw a hand near her foot—the hand of a dead sailor.

  Suddenly, the rowboat lurched and she heard Roger’s intake of breath as he fought to control their plunge. For some reason Miles had abruptly released the ropes overhead. Roger managed to set the boat into the water with only a whisper. Pulling back, he looked up toward the ship.

  Miles was nowhere to be seen and for a moment Elizabeth felt panic. How deep did Roger’s hatred run? Could she fight Roger if he decided to leave Miles behind?

  But Roger merely stood in the boat, looking up expectantly, his legs wide apart and braced against the rolling boat.

  When Elizabeth was near tears of worry, Miles looked over the side, saw where Roger was and the next minute he tossed a body into Roger’s arms. Roger seemed to be waiting for just this and he didn’t fall when the body hit him. The next moment Miles was traveling down the rope with lightning speed and he was only half-in when Roger pushed off and began to row. Miles kicked the second dead sailor’s body beside the other one, grabbed the second oars and started rowing.

  Elizabeth couldn’t say a word as she watched the two of them working together, the boat gliding away into the night.

  Chapter 16

  “LET’S GET RID OF THEM,” WERE THE FIRST WORDS SPOKEN after an hour of silence.

  Miles nodded in agreement and kept rowing as Roger slipped the two bodies into the water.

  Roger resumed rowing. “We’ll have to have other clothes. Something plain that won’t arouse suspicion.”

  “Suspicion of what?” Elizabeth asked. “Do you think the sailors will try to find us?”

  Roger and Miles exchanged looks that made Elizabeth feel like an outsider.

  “If we let it be known that we’re of the Montgomerys or Chatworths,” Roger began patiently, “we’d be held for ransom within minutes. Since we travel without a guard we must travel incognito.”

  “As musicians perhaps,” Elizabeth added. “We should have Alyx with us.”

  The mention of Miles’s new sister-in-law made Roger reminisce about the time Alyx saved his life. The telling took until dawn, when the men finally reached shore.

  “Keep your cloak about you and stay close to me,” Miles ordered under his breath. “They’ll be setting up a market soon and we’ll see if we can find some clothes.”

  Even though light was just breaking, the town square was alive with people bringing in goods to sell. Roger, in his clothes with burst seams, his arrogant stance, caused many looks, as did Elizabeth, her hair dirty and tangled but her body covered in an expensive cape. But it was Miles who received the most looks—all from females.

  A pretty young woman, surrounded by young men, looked up from her wares and met Miles’s dark eyes.

  Elizabeth stepped forward, hands made into claws. With a chuckle, Miles caught her arm. “How’d you like to have the lady’s dress?”

  “I’d like to have her hide nailed to my door.”

  Miles gave Elizabeth such a hot look that she felt her heart begin to beat faster. “Behave yourself and obey me,” he said, walking toward the woman who was giving him such heated looks.

  “And what can I do for you?” the woman fairly purred, her language a gutter French.

  “Could I persuade you out of your clothes?” Miles half whispered, his fingers caressing a large cabbage as he spoke a perfect, classical French.

  Elizabeth could have been part of the roadway for all the attention the woman paid her.

  “Aye, you could,” she whispered, her hand closing over Miles’s. “And what would you like to offer in return?”

  Miles drew back, his eyes alight, that half-smile of his that Elizabeth knew so well on his lips. “We’ll barter a cloak, fur lined, for three suits of clothes and provisions.”

  The woman looked Elizabeth up and down. “Her cloak?” she spat.

  By now two of the men had walked toward the group and from the look of them, they were the woman’s brothers. Elizabeth, angry at Miles’s flirting, even if it were for a good cause, looked up through her lashes at the men. “We have had a most unfortunate accident,” she said in French, not quite as good as Miles’s, but adequate. “We were hoping