Part 7 (1/2)

I lifted my bound hands out from under the covers. ”When would you like me to start?”

He laughed at that.

”Michael might need help,” I explained. ”You wouldn't want him to run aground or anything, would you?”

”Nor would I want you to jump s.h.i.+p. I'm quite certain of Michael's eagerness to cooperate. He's in love with Trudy, and knows I'll rip her, so to speak, should he vex me. I trust him entirely. At least so long as I keep Trudy within reach of my blade. She means little or nothing to you, however.”

”I don't want you hurting her.”

”I shall, of course, if you cause me trouble. Nevertheless, your heart isn't bound to hers. You might choose to risk her for the sake of your own freedom.”

”I wouldn't,” I told him. To this day, I don't know whether or not I spoke the truth.

I surely was eager to get untied and up on deck where I could dive overboard and swim for sh.o.r.e. But if that meant cas.h.i.+ng in Trudy's life...well, I just don't know.

But I was spared the need to decide.

Whittle said, ”You'll remain here in the cabin with us until we're well out to sea.”

It wouldn't do to argue. Any kind of fuss from me, and he'd give Trudy a punch, or worse.

I laid back down and worked the covers up around my neck and turned my back to the both of them. Would've been a blessing to fall asleep, but I was in too much turmoil. Besides, my head hurt from the bash Trudy's father had given it.

He'd whacked me a good one, but I'd killed him just as sure as if the knife had been in my own hand. There he'd been, fixing to set sail for France with his daughter and sonin-law, and I'd led the Ripper right to him. It weighed on me. I told myself it was his own fault for knocking me senseless. If he hadn't been so quick with his club, I could've warned him. Together, we might've handled Whittle.

Well, I'd snuck onto his yacht in the wee hours, bare to the waist and a knife in my teeth. He couldn't be blamed for getting the wrong idea. Then Whittle'd rowed up, no doubt with a story about being attacked on the streets by me, and the old man must've allowed him aboard to take me off.

If only I'd picked a different boat, Trudy and her father and Michael, they'd all be on their way to Calais.

I'd done this to them.

For a spell there, I had a mighty hard struggle not to start crying. That would've given Whittle no end of amus.e.m.e.nt and besides I didn't want Trudy to take me for a sniveling boy.

I wondered if she hated me for bringing the Ripper into her life.

Right then I vowed to save her.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Ropes ”Trevor? Trevor?”

A sweet, quiet voice woke me, so I must've fallen asleep after all. Though I knew it wasn't Mother calling to me, just for a bit I thought I was home in my own bed.

But my hands and feet were bound and the bed was bouncing up against me and rocking from side to side. That reminded me, all too quick, of where I was and how I'd gotten there.

Opening my eyes, I rolled over. It was night. The cabin was aglow with murky light from an oil lamp.

Whittle was gone.

Trudy lay under covers, only her face showing.

”Where is he?” I asked.

”He went to the galley for food.”

I could scarcely believe that he'd left us alone. With Michael manning the boat and both of us tied, however, he had no choice but to fetch food himself or starve. I rather hoped he would bring some for us. The mere thought of it was enough to set my dry mouth watering, my stomach growling.

”We've got to do something,” Trudy said.

I sat up, dragging the bedclothes to my chest. They did little to warm my backside, but this was no time to worry about the cold. s.h.i.+vering a bit, I gave the cabin a study. It was narrow and just long enough for the two berths, with walls at each end. The wall near my feet had a door in it.

”Where does that go?” I asked.

”Aft,” Trudy said. She sat up, too. Her covers tumbled down to her lap. I could see she was still tied, arms pinned to her sides by ropes wrapped around her middle. ”We're in the forward cabin. The galley's aft.”

”Through that door?”

”There's the head, then the main saloon, then the galley.”

I didn't know what she meant by some of that, but figured she was trying to tell me that Whittle'd gone pretty near to the other end of the boat.

”He quizzed me about our supplies,” Trudy said. ”He wants a hot meal. So he's bound to be away for a while. Come over here and untie me.”

”Well...” I said.

”Quick!”

”Is there a way to get out out of here?” of here?”

”We shan't know that until we try. Now, don't argue.”

”I'm not wearing a st.i.tch of clothing, ma'am.”

”Do as I say.”

Some of my sympathy for Trudy leaked away. For a poor helpless damsel in distress, she seemed a trifle bossy.

But I gave it some thought and saw how this might be a chance to save ourselves. It'd be a shame to miss it on account of my modesty. So I swung myself off the bed. I stood up. Cupping my private parts, I hopped across the s.p.a.ce between our beds. Before the jumping floor got a chance to throw me down, I dropped to my knees.

The air fairly froze me. I clenched my teeth to stop their clicking, and reached up for Trudy.

The way my hands were bound at the wrists, I had free use of my fingers. I used them to pluck at the knot in front of Trudy. It was tight against her belly. The twisted bundle of hemp felt hard as iron. My shaky fingers picked at it, slipped off, and tried again.

”Use your teeth.”

I pushed my face in against her and clamped my front teeth on the knot. She was nice and warm through her gown. I could feel her press against me when she breathed. I tried to pay her no mind and only think about the job.