smell of a great seaport, filled her nostrils.
Which vessel were they to board? Lucy wondered as she tried to keep up with Nathan’s long strides. She could not believe that she would be standing on the deck of one of these great ships, to command a view of the swaying sail and lines, to stand at the prow and feel the wind and spray on her face. To know the rise and fall of the vessel as it leaned into the jaws of a squall. To feel the warmth of the sun brush her cheeks as they sailed close to Portugal.
There were several ships in the fleet. They boarded a sixty-four-gun ship with its large guns run out at the porthole. Depending on the weather, it expected to make the run to Lisbon in under two weeks. It was carrying soldiers. Some of them who had been wounded and sent home to recuperate were returning to their regiments. There were several women aboard, some with children, taking the voyage to join their husbands, willing to run the dangers of war to be close to their loved ones.
Nathan took in provisions for themselves of biscuits, coffee, sugar, butter and other edibles that could be purchased. He managed to secure Lucy a small cabin—not much bigger than a cupboard, but she was glad of it. She would appreciate the privacy.
* * *
It was dusk when she went to the quarterdeck to look around. Now they were underway she experienced a strange sensation in which anticipation mingled with excitement. The chill wind that was driving tattered regiments of cloud across a watery sky brought with it a sudden and vicious spatter of raindrops. As the ship sailed down the Channel, she watched the coast recede.
There was no way of knowing what she might find when they reached Portugal, but she was relatively confident that she would be up to it. Nathan obviously thought so, otherwise he would not have sought her out to make her part of his assignment.
* * *
Nathan came towards Lucy from the shadows and stood beside her. The deck was almost deserted. He was conscious of her closeness. She lifted her head and looked into his relaxed, unguarded face in the pale light of the newly risen moon.
Standing close to her, Nathan took in the vague and subtle perfume of her skin. She had a smudge on her cheek, which he found endearing. Since Lucy had broken off their engagement, all his contacts with women had been restricted to polite intercourse and nothing else. With her presence, it was inevitable that she would evoke thoughts and memories he had tried to bury. War made life uncertain, but he hoped at the end of it there would be a future—a home and a family and a woman’s love.
‘Are you all right—not too cold?’ he asked as a brisk breeze played among the rigging, billowing and snapping at the sails.
Lucy shook her head. ‘I’ve never been on board a ship before. It’s a new experience for me.’
‘We’ll soon be leaving the Channel and sailing through the Bay of Biscay. It can be rough so prepare yourself. Even the strongest stomach can be affected by seasickness.’ Turning sideways, he looked down at her. His gaze went deep into her eyes. ‘I’m sorry about what happened to you in London. I know how much the role of Portia meant to you. You are a good actress, Lucy. Portia was a role worthy of your talents. I’ve rarely read such plaudits. Your anger and disappointment must have been overwhelming. I imagine you will by pleased if the performance fails.’
‘On the contrary. I sincerely hope it will be a great success.’
‘And it will not sour your friendship with Coral?’
‘No, of course it won’t. Initially I was angry and resentful, but we have been friends for too long to let something like this come between us. I am happy for her. Coral has proved herself a consummate actress. She will be pure perfection as Portia. She radiates vitality, wry good humour and overwhelming charm in a performance that is sheer enchantment.’
‘You’re a good friend. You are indeed generous.’
‘Not generous. I’m
Which vessel were they to board? Lucy wondered as she tried to keep up with Nathan’s long strides. She could not believe that she would be standing on the deck of one of these great ships, to command a view of the swaying sail and lines, to stand at the prow and feel the wind and spray on her face. To know the rise and fall of the vessel as it leaned into the jaws of a squall. To feel the warmth of the sun brush her cheeks as they sailed close to Portugal.
There were several ships in the fleet. They boarded a sixty-four-gun ship with its large guns run out at the porthole. Depending on the weather, it expected to make the run to Lisbon in under two weeks. It was carrying soldiers. Some of them who had been wounded and sent home to recuperate were returning to their regiments. There were several women aboard, some with children, taking the voyage to join their husbands, willing to run the dangers of war to be close to their loved ones.
Nathan took in provisions for themselves of biscuits, coffee, sugar, butter and other edibles that could be purchased. He managed to secure Lucy a small cabin—not much bigger than a cupboard, but she was glad of it. She would appreciate the privacy.
* * *
It was dusk when she went to the quarterdeck to look around. Now they were underway she experienced a strange sensation in which anticipation mingled with excitement. The chill wind that was driving tattered regiments of cloud across a watery sky brought with it a sudden and vicious spatter of raindrops. As the ship sailed down the Channel, she watched the coast recede.
There was no way of knowing what she might find when they reached Portugal, but she was relatively confident that she would be up to it. Nathan obviously thought so, otherwise he would not have sought her out to make her part of his assignment.
* * *
Nathan came towards Lucy from the shadows and stood beside her. The deck was almost deserted. He was conscious of her closeness. She lifted her head and looked into his relaxed, unguarded face in the pale light of the newly risen moon.
Standing close to her, Nathan took in the vague and subtle perfume of her skin. She had a smudge on her cheek, which he found endearing. Since Lucy had broken off their engagement, all his contacts with women had been restricted to polite intercourse and nothing else. With her presence, it was inevitable that she would evoke thoughts and memories he had tried to bury. War made life uncertain, but he hoped at the end of it there would be a future—a home and a family and a woman’s love.
‘Are you all right—not too cold?’ he asked as a brisk breeze played among the rigging, billowing and snapping at the sails.
Lucy shook her head. ‘I’ve never been on board a ship before. It’s a new experience for me.’
‘We’ll soon be leaving the Channel and sailing through the Bay of Biscay. It can be rough so prepare yourself. Even the strongest stomach can be affected by seasickness.’ Turning sideways, he looked down at her. His gaze went deep into her eyes. ‘I’m sorry about what happened to you in London. I know how much the role of Portia meant to you. You are a good actress, Lucy. Portia was a role worthy of your talents. I’ve rarely read such plaudits. Your anger and disappointment must have been overwhelming. I imagine you will by pleased if the performance fails.’
‘On the contrary. I sincerely hope it will be a great success.’
‘And it will not sour your friendship with Coral?’
‘No, of course it won’t. Initially I was angry and resentful, but we have been friends for too long to let something like this come between us. I am happy for her. Coral has proved herself a consummate actress. She will be pure perfection as Portia. She radiates vitality, wry good humour and overwhelming charm in a performance that is sheer enchantment.’
‘You’re a good friend. You are indeed generous.’
‘Not generous. I’m
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