She said, 'I wanted to go to the jetty and watch you come ashore. To meet you and hold you. I wanted it so much. Instead……'
They both glanced down as an old dog turned over, panting in the sunshine before dragging itself into the retreating shadows.
He tightened his hold around her waist, thinking of the haste with which he had cut short his immediate duties to come ashore, to this quiet street, to her.
She had told him about Sillitoe, how he had arranged this passage, how even this house belonged to one of his friends or associates, someone who owed him favours. He had felt no resentment or jealousy. It was as if he had known.
As he had slipped out of his heavy coat she had told him the rest of the story, or most of it. How Sillitoe had come with his men to her aid, and had saved her.
Then Bolitho had held her for the first time, pressing her face to his, stroking her hair, his words muffled until he had lifted her chin in his fingers and had said without emotion, 'I would have killed him. I will kill him.'
She had kissed him, and had whispered, 'Sillitoe is a law unto himself.
He will deal with it.'
'He is in love with you, Kate.' She had flinched at the familiar use of the name. 'Who would not be?'
'I am in love with you.'
He thought of the piles of despatches which had been brought by the last courier from England. Once so important; he had barely scanned them, and had left Tyacke to sift through them.
She turned again in his arms and looked directly into his face.
'I would have done anything to be here with you. When the ship sailed into the harbour and your Frobisher was not at anchor, I thought I would die.' She moved against him. 'And then you came. My admiral of England.' She struggled with the words. 'Will you be able to stay? Saladin is returning in a matter of days. If only……'
He kissed her face and her throat, and felt the pain draining away like sand. 'It is more than I dared to hope for.'
She led him into the room and closed the shutters. 'They know you are here?'
He nodded, and she said softly, Then they will know what we are doing.' He reached out for her, but she twisted away from him. 'Pour some wine. I must do things.' She smiled, and pushed some hair from her face. 'Oh, Richard, I love thee so!' Then, like the dream, she was gone.
Bolitho thought of Avery and Allday, who had accompanied him ashore. Each unwilling to abandon him in a strange port, and yet both so determined not to display their anxieties.
And she was here. It was not another dream, wherein she was torn away from him. He felt again the anger and shock as he recalled her careful description of the attack, and what
Oliphant had intended. It was as if Oliphant represented all those nightmare figures, the rivals and lovers which were always a part of his fears.
And she had shown a courage which he could only imagine; it was not even something he could compare with the shipwreck, or their first embattled meeting aboard the Navarra.
She called through the door, 'What of tomorrow?'
'I must meet the garrison commander, and receive some officials.'
'Afterwards?'
He felt the sudden excitement. 'I shall be meeting a very beautiful girl.'
She came into the room very quietly, her feet bare, her body clothed from neck to ankles in a fine, white gown.
She put her arms around his neck and held him tightly.
'A girl? If only I still were.' She gasped as he cupped her shoulders and ran his hands down her spine.
She said softly, 'And I missed your birthday. It was all done in such a hurry. Perhaps I shall buy something here in Malta.'
She stood quite still, her arms at her sides as he found the gold cord and pulled it towards him. The gown was so thin that, in falling, it scarcely made a sound, and she watched him, her lips suddenly moist and parted in the filtered sunlight, as he held her against him before lifting her, and carrying her to the bed.
Her fingers were like claws in the sheets as he kissed her nakedness, her mouth and her throat, each breast, with a lingering pressure which made her cry out as if in pain as her nipples hardened in his lips. Once she had dreaded that this reunion would only bring back the disgust and the terror of that night. But it was as if she had no memory, and no control at all; she felt her body writhing as he came to her and she drew him down, touching and caressing, taking him into her, as if it was for the first time.
He kissed her, deeply, and tasted what might have been tears. But their need of one another drove all reserve, all memory, into the shadows. She arched her back so that he could lift her, to join them even more closely; they were one.
She turned her head from side to side, her hair spreading across the disordered sheets, her face damp as if from fever.
'I can't wait, Richard… I can't wait… it's been so long
The rest was lost as they fell, entwined like broken statuary, and there was nothing, only the sound of their urgent breathing.
When, eventually, they stood again at the shuttered doors the shadows were deeper, and the old dog had disappeared. Together they drank the wine, neither noticing that the glasses were hot from the sun.
She put her arm around his shoulder, and did not look away when he turned his head to see her more fully.
'I know, dearest of men. I know.'
He felt her move against him, and the need of her again.
She tossed the mood aside. 'I am out of practice! Come, my love… I shall do better this time!'
Faint stars were in the sky when they finally fell asleep, in one another's arms.
There was a smell of jasmine in the room. The miracle was complete.
16. Lifeline
Captain Adam Bolitho walked slowly to the quarterdeck rail and, for only a few seconds, laid his hand upon it. Like the rest of the ship, it was cold and damp, and he felt a shiver run down his spine like some ghostly reminder. He was very aware of the crowded main deck, the upturned faces, still anonymous and unknown to him, the swaying lines of scarlet-coated marines, the blue and white groups of officers and those of warrant rank. Soon to be a ship's company. His ship's company. People, individuals, the good and the bad, but on this bitter December day they were strangers. And Captain Adam Bolitho was quite alone.
On the lively passage back from Halifax to England, he had still imagined that he would be replaced at the last moment. That his one hope would be gone.
It was not a dream. It was not a reward. It was now, today. What his uncle had sometimes described as the most coveted gift was his by right. His Britannic Majesty's Ship Unrivalled, a fifth-rate of forty-six guns, was in almost every sense ready to join the fleet and perform whatever task might be ordered. So fresh from the builders' hands that in places below decks the paint was not yet dry, but up here, even to the inexperienced eye, she was a thing of beauty. She moved restlessly on the current, her holds and stores yet to be filled, like her magazines and shot-lockers, to give the graceful hull stability and purpose.
It was an important day for all of them. The fruitless, bitter war with the United States was all but over. Unrivalled was not only the first ship of her name on the Navy List,
but also the first to be commissioned under the promise of peace.
Adam glanced at the taut shrouds and blacked-down stays, the new cordage touched with frost like entwined, frozen webs, and he saw the breath of one seaman hanging over him like smoke.
It was misty, too, and the houses and fortifications of Plymouth were still blurred, like a glass out of focus.
He felt the ship move again, and pictured the Tamar River which he had seen when he had first arrived. Beyond it was Cornwall, his home, his roots. He had heard that Catherine had gone to Malta to visit his uncle, and it had
