The walk up the stone steps and into the town concentrated Will's mind. What could have possessed Sarah to make her jump ship? While he was prepared to accept that her fiancé was likely a blackguard, he also suspected she was holding back much of the truth. From the way she spoke, he deduced that there was an actual fiancé somewhere in the story. What was not so certain however, was whether he was the real reason behind her fleeing the ship.

The Blade of Orion had been in port for at least several days, during which the passengers would have had to disembark and stay somewhere in the town. Why hadn't she sought help from the authorities while still onshore? Gibraltar was full of British naval personnel, anyone of whom could have been called upon to come to her aid.

He chanced a look in her direction.

She was pretty; in a keep you happy in bed in the middle of winter way. Her warm brown eyes alone could capture a man's soul. Her face, while not beautiful, still held the promise of laughter, which to a man of Will's experience was far more alluring. Beauty often failed to live up to its promise.

Her full lips were meant for long luxurious kisses. Instinct told him that whomever married Sarah Wilson would never feel the need to stray from the marital bed. She was a woman to cleave onto and be grateful for, for the rest of your life. If he had been asked to describe her in a single word he knew what it would be. Lovely.

Her fiancé had lost a special woman, though from the sound of the cad, he would likely never come to that realization.

With her sea soaked clothes still clinging tightly to her body, Will found himself appreciating the soft curves which were on display. Her ample breasts stretched the seams of the gown's water shrunken bodice.

He checked himself. It had been a long time since he had allowed the thought of a woman's body to pervade so strongly into his mind. For the past few years he had buried those thoughts and desires deep in the black hole of loss.

Grief was a thick, dark blanket to the joy of life. Once the sharp heat of it ebbed, it offered protection to the heart.

What am I doing?

For the first time since the death of his wife, Will was forced to accept that the girl walking beside him stirred his longing.

“So, we shall get you to the hotel, and you will be fine after that?” he asked. He was testing her, seeing how long she could hold her story together.

“Yes, yes of course. Thank you, Mr. Saunders,” she replied.

When they finally reached the top of the stairs which led to the entrance of the largest of the handful of hotels in Gibraltar, Will stopped and held open the door. Hattie stepped inside and he followed.

On the climb up the hill, he had silently evaluated her situation. He doubted she had any money. If she had thought to take some with her before leaving the ship, those coins were more than likely now resting at the bottom of the harbor. If his theory held true, then it was only a matter of time before she would be forced to admit the truth of her predicament.

As they reached the front desk of the hotel, which doubled as both reception and an extension to the tavern bar she stopped.

He could see she was ill at ease. The constant wringing of her hands gave her away. When she cracked the smallest knuckle on her left hand, he knew it was time to act.

His sister Caroline had the same nervous habit, one which made him grit his teeth every time he was forced to bear witness to it.

What sort of man are you? What could you possibly achieve from making her beg you for help? Will Saunders, you are a better man than this. She is not some operative you need to bend to your will. Offer her your full assistance.

He waved the hotel’s head porter away and taking hold of Hattie’s arm steered her away from the front desk.

“You don't have any money, do you?” he asked, once they were out of earshot of the hotel staff.

She winced. Her reaction confirming his assessment of her lack of skills as a liar. In his old life he would have viewed this as a character flaw, but in the young woman before him he knew this to be a sign of her true character and breeding.

It was refreshing to meet someone who did not practice deceit as part of their normal day to day existence.

She pulled away and turning on her heel headed for the door.

Will who until that second had thought himself a canny predictor of the reactions of others, suddenly found himself wrong footed. Any other woman would have thrown herself on his charity. Called all societies dictates to the fore, but not this girl.

He watched in amazement as she screwed her courage to the sticking place and walked away. She was not going to ask for his help.

She was so like Yvette. So bloody stubborn.

Stop her you fool.

“Sarah!” he called out, but she did not react.

She moved faster than even he expected. By the time he reached the door, she was well out into the street and headed for the nearby town square in which the market was being held. He ran after her.

Taking a firm hold of her arm he stopped her in mid stride. When he saw her tears, Will instantly felt lower than a gutter rat's paw.

“It's alright, I won't leave you,” he said, trying his best to offer reassurance.

Hattie's face said it all, she was in dire straits. Whether it was of her own making or not, it did not matter. He had to help.

“I just want to go home,” she sobbed.

His senses sprang to attention. A soft tingling in his left ear, which rapidly became a sharp ringing warned him that they were in danger. His gaze shifted slowly from Hattie to their nearby surroundings.

The people around them in the market place began to shoot disapproving glances his way.

It did not take a genius to realize that the locals had assumed he and she were a couple.

From the loud clicking of tongues and whispered bestia it was also obvious that they held him responsible for her current miserable condition.

Hattie’s hair was an unkempt disaster, plastered all over her head. Her clothes, though slowly beginning to dry, made her look like she had been dragged backwards through a hedgerow. She looked at best untidy, at worst mistreated.

A heavy knock on the shoulder from a passing stall holder revealed the depth of enmity beginning to build amongst the crowd. Will was the villain of the piece. If he did not bring the situation under control, and fast, he was likely to find himself on the receiving end of a solid fist or two.

“Alright, alright. I will take you home. Just please stop crying,” Will pleaded.

The local women who had gathered to stand behind Hattie looked to one another. Will caught the glimpse of a donkey whip in one woman's hand and sizeable pieces of rock in the hands of several others.

The buzz of the crowd rose in pitch.

Their adopted daughter however did not appear to comprehend what was going on around her. Hattie's head dropped and she stared at the stone paving. Unwittingly she held the crowd and therefore both her and Will's safety in the palm of her hand.

“They want to know if everything is alright,” he explained.

“What?” she replied, when she finally looked at him.

He took a step forward, intent on speaking more privately to her, but the crowd murmured its disapproval.

“Bien bien,” he said, taking two overly long steps backward, hands help up in surrender.

Hattie's gaze fell on the nearest of the women. The woman's finger was pointed at Hattie's disheveled gown.

Hattie looked down at her gown and frowned. “Oh, I see.”

As she attempted to straighten her skirts, a bright patch of red appeared on her cheeks. Will's heart went out to her once more. The poor girl was embarrassed at the bedraggled state of her clothes in front of these strangers.

The creased and partly shrunken gown refused to yield to her attentions. Nothing she did to make it appear more presentable made the slightest of difference. White sea salt lines had begun to appear on the few dry patches of the bodice.

Finally, with a sad huff, she gave up. Her hands hung limply by her sides.

The crowd, which was rapidly increasing in size coalesced into a single angry beast, and growled. The ringing in Will's ear rose to a deafening clang. It was like a bell being tolled inside his head.

Realization of the crowd's mood finally dawned on Hattie's face. She turned to the crowd and pleaded.

“No, no it's not his fault. He is trying to help me. He rescued...”

“Come darling,” Will interjected.

While it was all well and good for her to attempt to paint him to be a savior, it did not further their cause if those gathered in the town square got the wrong idea. Her Spanish was likely non-existent and he for one did not think the townsfolk were in any mood to listen to his explanation, no matter how eloquently or fluently it was given.

There was also the matter of exactly what he would say to the townsfolk if he was given any kind of hearing. He would be a dead man if they thought he was trying to accost an innocent stranger.

She, in turn would fare little better. The well-meaning people of the town would likely make every effort to have her back on board the Blade of Orion before it reached the next port.

“If you ever wish to see England again, you had better come with me now. If your new friends discover the truth of your situation, they will involve the local authorities. You do not want that to happen. Your fiancé has legal rights over you in this part of the world. They will hand you over to him,” he said.

He knew whatever lies she had told him so far would not stand up to any serious scrutiny. She looked once more at the assembled throng and to Will's utter relief accurately read exactly what the situation needed.

She took several stuttering steps forward and threw herself headlong into Will's arms.

The crowd cheered and applauded this delightful development. Love had triumphed all obstacles. Several of the women wiped tears away as they tucked their rocks back into their aprons. One even ventured a kiss on the cheek of a nearby man. Several bystanders laughed at the sight of the kiss, while Will prayed it was the woman's husband.

Watching this byplay unfold, Will took his cue. He bent down and placed a chaste kiss on Hattie's cheek. Her melodramatic gesture of forgiveness demanded the fullness of his acknowledgement.

The act of creating an impromptu facade was second nature to him. Spies were always having to think on their feet. Lives usually depended on it.

The townsfolk mumbled their disapproval. This was not the submission their hearts and minds craved from the wicked husband who had hurt his beautiful young wife. Truth was sitting quietly in the gutter at this point nursing a sore head. The crowd was making the love story up in its collective mind as it went along.

Will saw the pleading looks on the faces of several old senoras and knew a kiss on the cheek was never going to pass muster.

He looked down at Hattie and whispered.

“Forgive me.”

He bent his head and set his lips to hers.