A Candlelit Regency Christmas: His Housekeeper's Christmas Wish. Louise Allen
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at its end. It opened out into a small area at the foot of another set of stairs so she gathered her skirts in one hand, took the handrail with the other and started to climb, one step at a time.
‘What we got ’ere, then? You’re trespassing into the crews’ quarters, sweetheart. Lost, are you? Or looking for some company?’
A sailor, big and burly, was descending the steps towards her. Tess retreated backwards, away from the smell of tar and unwashed man, the big hands, the snaggle-toothed smirk.
‘I want to get back on deck. Kindly let me pass.’
‘Kindly let me pass.’ He mimicked her accent and kept coming. ‘I don’t take orders from passengers.’ His eyes, bright blue in his weather-beaten face, ran over her from head to foot and a sneer appeared on his face as he took in her plain, cheap gown. ‘I can show you a good time.’ He put out a hand and gave her a push towards a door that was hooked open. Inside she could glimpse a bunk bed.
Tess turned, clumsy with her painful ankle, and he caught her by the shoulder. ‘Not so fast, you stuck-up little madam. What the—?’
He broke off as one elegantly gloved hand gripped his shoulder. ‘You’re in the way, friend,’ Alex drawled, his tone suggesting they were anything but friends. His gaze swept over Tess and she stopped struggling.
‘And something tells me this lady does not welcome your attentions.’ His voice was low, almost conversational, his half smile amiable. ‘I suggest you remove your hand from the lady.’ Alex was as tall as the sailor, but looked about half his weight. The man shifted his stance to face him, his posture becoming subtly more threatening as he dropped his hand from Tess’s shoulder.
Tess looked at the great meaty hands and the knife in his belt and swallowed. Then she began to pull off her gloves. If he attacked Alex, her only weapons were her nails and her feet. ‘This brute—’
‘This little lady came looking for some company.’ He leered at Tess. ‘Then the silly mort got all uppity on me.’
‘And you are?’ Alex sounded almost comatose with boredom as he drew off his right glove and tossed it to Tess.
‘I’m the second mate of this ’ere ship and I don’t take any nonsense, not from bits of skirt what don’t know their place and not from passengers, neither.’
‘Hmm. I wasn’t intending nonsense,’ Alex remarked, the last word almost a growl. He bunched his fist and hit the man square on the jaw. The sailor went down like a felled tree, hitting his head on the handrail as he went.
‘Damn.’ Alex shook his hand. ‘I hope I haven’t killed him. It means such a fuss with the magistrates.’ He sounded like himself again.
He gave the unconscious man a nudge in the ribs with one booted foot. ‘No. He’s breathing.’ Alex stepped over the sprawled figure and frowned down at Tess. ‘Are you all right? Did he do more than touch your shoulder? Because if he did he’s going to wake up minus his wedding tackle.’
‘No.’ She blinked at him, trying to square the carefree figure in front of her with the dangerous-sounding man who had delivered that sledgehammer of a blow. ‘You hit him very hard.’
Alex shrugged. ‘He deserved it and if you give a lout like that a tap, all you do is make him angry and more dangerous. Now, where can we stow him?’
‘In there.’ She pointed at the open door.
Alex dragged the unconscious man inside, then hunkered down, felt the sailor’s head, rolled back an eyelid and pushed him onto his side. ‘He’ll do.’
Tess sat down on the bottom step. It felt safer down there, less as though the deck was going to come up and hit her. She wasn’t used to violence, and facing that leering creature had made her stomach heave, but Alex... Alex had been wonderful.
She should have been appalled and frightened by the violence, but it had been thrilling, that explosive, focused power. Tess looked at Alex. Most of the time he was so kind and carefree, but she now knew he was capable of behaving like a storybook hero. She had forgotten those muscles.
‘Let that be a lesson to you,’ said her hero flatly as he pulled on his glove and shut the cabin door. ‘Do not go wandering off, do not speak to strange men.’
Tess felt her warm storybook glow vanishing. ‘I didn’t wander off. And I did not speak to him. He accosted me.’
‘You are far too trusting—as bad as that blasted kitten. You let yourself be carried about Ghent by a strange man, you spend the night with four of them...’
‘That is totally unfair! You knocked me down, you assured me I’d be safe!’
‘Not so much trusting as gullible,’ Alex snapped. The image of Sir Galahad wavered and vanished altogether. There were shouts on deck; the motion of the ship changed. ‘We’re coming into harbour.’ Alex climbed up the companionway and looked round. ‘We’d better get on deck before someone removes our baggage.’
Tess stalked after him with as much dignity as she could manage with a limp. As they made their way past sailors hauling down sails and securing ropes she saw that the harbour was getting closer by the second. England. Home? It will be in time, she reassured herself, trying not to glare resentfully at Alex’s back.
He reached their place under the mast and turned, flexing his hand as though reliving that blow. ‘I’m sorry, I should not have snapped at you. I was concerned when you did not come back.’ When she did not speak, he shrugged. ‘Look, I wanted to tear his head off and I couldn’t, not once he was unconscious. I was...frustrated.’
‘That’s a very primitive reaction.’ And an exciting one, I fear. When Alex simply grunted Tess smothered her smile and picked up Noel’s basket. ‘There’s a good boy. Did you miss your uncle Alex, then?’ There was a yowl and a ginger paw shot out of a gap in the weave and fastened on Tess’s sleeve. ‘Poor little chap, you want to get on dry land, don’t you?’
* * *
‘I have not made any promises about that hellcat,’ Alex said. ‘Any more nauseating baby talk and Uncle Alex will start thinking about glove linings again.’
Tess slanted a look at him that said she knew perfectly well he was bluffing. Minx. She seemed to be all right after that unpleasant scene. No vapours, no wilting into his arms at the most inconvenient moment. In fact, he had a strong suspicion that she would have had a go at the man herself, given half a chance. He managed to suppress a grin and checked their bags. ‘Don’t try to carry the cat basket. Wait there and I’ll get someone to fetch the lot.’
He walked to the rail and waited while the ship bumped against the quayside and the gangplank was let down, then he hailed a porter and made his way back across the now-crowded deck to Tess. She was sitting patiently where he had left her, looking around with intelligent interest. Drab, neat, brave little nun, he thought. She looked serious, a little anxious. Then she saw him and her face lit up in a smile that held nothing but pleasure at his return and something inside him went thud.
To have a woman smile at him was no novelty. The respectable ones were always glad to welcome him to their homes and their social events; the unrespectable ones greeted his interest with attention that flattered his title and his pocketbook, if nothing else. But Tess’s warmth, her lack of artifice, were like an embrace. He was going to miss the chit when he handed her over, and he never thought he’d feel that about a respectable female. Or a lightskirt, come to that.
‘Those bags there.’ He pointed them out to the porter, who reached for the cat’s basket, as well.
‘Oh, be careful!’ Tess caught it by the handle.
‘I’ll carry it.’ Alex picked it up, gave Tess his other arm and offered up a silent prayer of thanks that no one he knew was likely to be around to view one of the ton’s most stylish gentlemen in a travel-stained condition and escorting a nun and a ginger