Page 88 of Cocky August Rake

It dipped beneath her foot, the ladder shifting against the ship’s side.

“That’s my girl,” Reginald said above her. “One step at a time.”

She tightened her hold and drew herself up. For one breathless moment, she hung there, the river moving below her and the ropes trembling in her hands.

But Reginald was close.

And somehow, with him watching over her, Rose knew she was safe.

She found the next rung. Then the next.

Before she quite realized she had reached the top, Reginald’s hands were under her arms and he’d lifted her over the railing and onto the deck.

The ship shifted beneath her, sending Rose stumbling into him.

But she never came close to falling.

Reginald’s arm came around her, firm and sure, holding her against him.

“Steady, love,” Reginald murmured.

One heartbeat passed. Then another. Neither moved.

Reginald smoothed his hands down her arms, his silver eyes fixed on hers as though he might find the answer to his question there.

Rose saw the hope in them. Fragile. But guarded.

Had she come because she had chosen him?

The question hovered between them.

But he did not ask it.

Rose lowered her gaze before he could see the truth.

Reginald released her, though his hand lingered briefly at her waist.

“Reg,” Dyer called. “What about Sedgewick? Thought you were meeting him for supper to settle things.”

But all of Reginald’s attention seemed fixed on Rose, as though the rest of the ship had ceased to exist.

“Tell him not to wait on me.” He waved one distracted hand. “We’ll settle everything tomorrow.”

Mr. Dyer paused, but only briefly. “Aye, Captain.”

Without further hesitation, the first mate stepped onto the rope ladder and disappeared over the side, climbing down to the small boat below.

“Captain?” another man prompted. “Do you want the last of the water casks brought aboard tonight, or wait till morning?”

Reginald blinked, as though only then remembering that anyone else stood upon the deck.

“Tonight,” he said. “We’ll want everything secured before the tide turns.”

Then, almost as an afterthought, he gestured toward the men.

“Rose, this is Mr. Bell, our boatswain. And this is Mr. Finch. Gentlemen, this is Miss Rose Darling.”

Both men greeted her politely, though something flickered in Mr. Bell’s eyes before he looked away.