shouldn’t. They were from different worlds, and he was almost certainly delirious, but what was the harm of one kiss?
‘Stop!’ The shout came from quite a distance away, but it paralysed Mia.
Slowly she raised her head and groaned. Coming towards her were four men wearing the unmistakable uniforms of the English soldiers garrisoned in Bridgetown.
‘No, no, no,’ she whispered.
She glanced down at her companion, wondering if he was able to make a dash for it into the trees that lined the beach. He had passed out on the sand with a contented smile on his face. She shook him none too gently and glanced once again at the soldiers. They were much closer now, making good progress over the powdery sand. She contemplated leaving Will and making a run for it on her own—he didn’t strike her as being a wanted man.
Too late. She’d just staggered to her feet when the first of the soldiers arrived and threw her back to the ground.
‘Don’t move,’ he shouted rather unnecessarily. With the rifle to her back Mia wasn’t planning on moving a single muscle.
* * *
Will felt as though he’d slept for a month. He contemplated rolling over and letting sleep consume him for another few hours, but the unusual sound of keys jangling was enough to make him open his eyes.
He was lying on mouldy straw in a fetid cell with only a sliver of light to illuminate his surroundings. Probably for the best, he thought.
The jangle of keys came closer and Will pushed himself up into a sitting position. Every muscle in his body screamed and begged him not to move again for another few days at least.
The door to the cell opened and through his half-open eyes Will could see a large figure standing in the doorway.
‘William Greenacre, what on earth happened to you?’
Will’s eyes opened fully and peered into the gloom. He recognised the voice, but couldn’t quite place the owner.
‘We thought you were dead.’
‘So did I,’ Will murmured.
The figure in the doorway strode into the cell and clapped Will on the shoulder.
‘Edward Thatcher,’ Will said. ‘It’s been years.’
‘Last time I saw you must have been at your old man’s funeral. Good fellow, sorely missed. That must have been what, seven years ago?’
‘Eight.’
‘Let’s get you out of this hellhole...’ Thatcher held out his hand to pull Will up ‘...then you can tell me how you managed to survive that awful storm.’
‘There was a woman...’ Will started.
‘Don’t you worry about her, old chap, we’ve got her safe. Let’s get you cleaned up and then I’ll fill you in on what’s been happening. The Governor is expecting you.’
‘But Mia...’
‘Good work there, Greenacre, we’ve been after her for months. You survive a shipwreck and apprehend the sister of Barbados’s most wanted in the same day.’
Barbados’s most wanted? Will screwed his eyes up, trying to concentrate. It had been a long day and he wasn’t sure he could recall exactly what had happened. He remembered the storm and the swim and the feeling of dread as he saw the cliffs towering above him. Then the vision of Mia on the clifftop, her saving him and finally the kiss on the beach.
He groaned. He’d kissed her. He owed his life to her and he’d assaulted her when all she’d been trying to do was help. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it. He had been pretty delirious, but really that was no excuse.
Will squinted as they emerged from cells into the bright Caribbean light.
‘It’s only a couple minutes’ walk to the Governor’s residence. Think you’ll make it, old chap?’
The muscles in his legs felt battered and achy, but it did feel good to stretch them out. If it was truly only a couple minutes’ walk he was sure his legs would get him there.
‘What are you doing out here, Thatcher?’ Will asked as they walked.
He’d known Thatcher from school—both boys had been at boarding school together—and whilst not in the same year they’d come across one another plenty of times on the sports field or during illicit night-time missions into the nearby town.
‘Advisor to his Majesty’s Governor of Barbados.’ Thatcher said it without much enthusiasm.
‘Can I deduce it’s not a post you care for?’ Will asked quietly.
‘The Governor’s a fool. I spend most of my time trying to right the mistakes he’s made.’
They’d reached the grand Governor’s residence and Thatcher knocked on the door. It was opened immediately and they were shown inside. Thatcher was obviously well known in the residence. The footmen nodded their acknowledgement, but otherwise let him pass unimpeded from the entrance hall to the inner corridor.
‘Mr Greenacre, or is it Lord Sedlescombe?’
Will stopped and turned.
‘I offer you my sincerest apologies. My men had no idea who you were. I regret you had to spend time in one of our cells—most unfortunate for a man of your standing.’
A man in a pristine white shirt and a decorated red dress coat was coming down the corridor behind them.
‘Governor Hall,’ Will guessed out loud, ‘it is an honour to meet you.’
‘Come, come, Thatcher, get the man a drink. He’s been through hell and back.’
The Governor led the two men into a cavernous dining hall which had a table laid out with food at one end.
‘Sit, eat, drink.’
Will sat and took a long draught from the cup in front of him. He savoured the liquid, allowing the cool wine to soothe his parched throat.
‘I want to hear all about what happened,’ the Governor said.
Will shrugged, running a hand through his hair, a delaying tactic so he could push the memory of the screams of the sailors from his mind.
‘We were only a few miles offshore. The storm hit and the Captain tried to make a dash for it.’
The Governor shook his head. ‘Captain Brent was a good friend of mine.’
‘The ship went down quickly and the few sailors who did survive the initial shipwreck wanted to wait for the Navy to rescue them.’
‘We’ve sent the boats, but I doubt anyone will be left now.’
‘I swam for shore and I’d just about given up when a woman dived in and saved me.’
‘Ah,
