Hattie allowed her maid to assist her for as long as it took to unlace her gown and take the pins out of her hair. Desiring solace, she politely dismissed the young woman once these tasks were done.

As the door to the room closed, Hattie felt the weight of the world descend upon her shoulders. Outside the sun had now set. There were only a few hours left in what felt like the longest day of her life.

Alone for the first time since earlier that morning, she sat on the side of the bed. Her fingers gripped the edge of the mattress.

She had done it.

Screwed every inch of her courage and then some to the sticking place. Where the line between bravery and recklessness stood was a matter for conjecture. What she did know for certain was that her bravery had its limits, and today she had touched the sharp outer edges.

If William Saunders had not come to her rescue, she had no idea where she would be right now.

Several glasses of wine during the afternoon had calmed her nerves, but as night approached the effect of the wine began to slowly wear off. Fear now crept into her mind.

Loud voices in the corridor outside her room, had her scurrying across the floor and locking the door before hurriedly retreating to the sanctuary of her bed. She was in a strange country, far from home and unfamiliar with the local language and customs. Who knew what went on in these foreign places?

Her parents and Peter had made sure she did not venture from the guest house at which they had stayed for the short stopover in Gibraltar.

“The monkeys of the Rock of Gibraltar are known to bite, and a fall from the top of the Rock would surely kill,” her mother had cautioned.

At that point, Hattie had been too wrapped up in her own turmoil to make mention to her mother that the place where they were headed had lions and tribes of cannibals.

Now she was alone and her parents were a half day’s sail from Gibraltar. The only person she knew within a hundred miles was William Saunders.

It was not as if she did not trust him. Only a cad with a death wish would swim all the way out into the harbor to rescue a stranger on the off chance that he could then betray her. She would bet every penny that she owned, which for the moment was none, that he was indeed the gentleman hero she believed him to be.

The Saunders were a good family of the ton. She had to count her blessings for having met Will.

Yet instinct cautioned her to keep as much of herself hidden from him as she could. The less he knew of her, the less likely it was that he could interfere with her slowing evolving plan.

“I must get home.”

With Will having secured passage back to London on a ship leaving in two days’ time, she would only have to keep up the façade of mistreated fiancée Sarah Wilson for two weeks. She knew enough of the background of the real Sarah Wilson to make a half convincing story. She hoped that Will would not be too deeply concerned with the intricacies of her life to press for anything more.

“Keep the story simple and you won’t trip up.”

Once they reached London, Sarah Wilson would simply disappear and Hattie Wright could go into hiding. Will would be gifted with the intriguing tale of the young woman he had rescued from the depths of Gibraltar Harbor. It would make for an entertaining dinner party story.

In time he would forget her.

She looked at the lady’s travel bag which sat on the end of her bed. Will was a man of means. Not only had he purchased her three new gowns, he had also managed to find a boot maker with a readymade pair of boots to fit her. Her own salt water stained leather ones were stuffed full of paper and drying in the window. Gibraltar was not cold enough to warrant a lit fire in the middle of October.

A knock at the door stirred her from her thoughts. She looked at her own recently washed and dried thin muslin shift. Will's sensible shopping had not extended to a nightgown nor a dressing gown. She crossed the floor and put an ear to the door.

“Hello?” she called out.

The door handle rattled.

“Let me in,” Will commanded.

“No, I am not decent. I don't have any suitable night clothes,” she replied.

Curses drifted in from the other side of the door. She glanced around the room for something to cover her state of undress. Seeing the bedclothes, she hit upon an idea.

“Just a minute,” she said.

She quickly pulled the blanket from off the bed and wrapped it around herself before reluctantly unlocking the door and opening it fully.

Will stepped into the room. His nimble fingers closed and locked the door before she had time to blink.

“I wanted to make sure you are alright. That you have everything you need,” he said, refusing to look directly at her.

She stifled a grin. For the first time since she had met him, Will seemed ill at ease. He shuffled his feet and kept his gaze downward toward the floor.

It was nice to see that he had a vulnerable side. She had had more than her fill of men in recent days who were cocksure about themselves. The chink in his armor made him even more of a hero in her eyes.

“I am fine, thank you Mr. Saunders. More than I expected to be after the events of today,” she replied.

Will cleared his throat.

“I must also apologize for the encounter between us in the market square. I had concerns about the crowd, but that does not excuse me for taking such liberties with your person. I should have apologized as soon as we got to the hotel. Please forgive me. I promise it will not happen again.”

The sting of disappointment pierced her heart. Then reminding herself of where she was and the impossibility of them being anything more than temporary acquaintances, she forced the emotion away.

Of course, he had regretted kissing her, he was a gentleman. From the little she knew of men, they never kissed gently bred women that way. And from the moment they had first spoken with one another, he had rightly guessed she was from a good family.

“I understand the need for what you did Mr. Saunders. Apology accepted,” she replied.

They shared an awkward silence for a moment. Will stared once more at the floor, while Hattie picked at her fingernails. The sea water had left the skin of her fingers rough and split.

“Is there anything else?” she asked.

Will's head shot up.

“Yes. Make sure you lock the door after I leave. This is one of only two places in Gibraltar where you can purchase liquor after dark. The downstairs of the hotel tends to get a little rowdy and full of inebriated English sailors later in the evening. I would not want one of them to accidentally stumble into your room. If you have any problems during the night, I shall be right next door. Do not hesitate to call upon me if you so need.”

“Thank you, I shall make certain the door is locked when you leave,” Hattie replied.

As soon as Will left, she locked the door. Then after hearing the bellowing of men from down in the street below her window, she dragged the dressing table across the floor and blocked the door.

“Better safe than sorry,” she murmured, climbing into bed.

Within minutes Hattie was sound asleep. The long swim in the harbor coupled with the rest of the day’s events had finally caught up with her. If a riot had broken out downstairs, she would surely have slept through it.

* * *

Back in his room Will paced the floor, his mind in a whirl. Had he been suddenly possessed of a kind of madness? Not only had he gone to the room of an unmarried woman, but earlier in the morning, he had kissed that same girl in public. The kiss they had shared was far more passionate than had been dictated by the situation. Worse still, he had enjoyed every second of it.

He stopped and checked himself. Since Yvette he had not laid hands on a woman. The temptation to take solace in the company of one of Paris' ladies of the night had taken him to the edge more than once. Instead, he had held fast to his grief and guilt, allowing long lonely nights to concentrate his mind.

Yet the first time he had held the girl he knew as Sarah in his arms, he felt the unmistakable stirrings of desire flare. He had wanted her in every way.

Perhaps today was the day when he would wake from the nightmare of Yvette's death and begin to move forward with his life. It had taken all his resolve to finally leave Paris behind for good.

He rubbed his hands over his tired, sun browned face.

“You did a good deed today William of the House of Strathmore, leave it at that.”

He slowly stripped off his jacket and cravat. The use of a valet was something he had been forced to forgo during his years in France. Having a man servant would have been difficult to explain when he was supposed to be living undercover as a simple shipping clerk.

Making a mental note to call for a bowl of hot water for his razor first thing in the morning, he sauntered over to the window.

Out of the window he could see the dark shadow of the giant Rock of Gibraltar. It dominated the landscape. You could not look anywhere without it being in view. The town of Gibraltar itself hugged the narrow strip of coastline to the west of the limestone monolith. It was so unlike anything in his native England.

He had spent enough years away from home to be comfortable with being in places foreign and unusual. The changing of coins and often illegal crossing of borders was just another of life's challenges he had learned to meet.

His mastery of the Spanish language was more than fair. He spoke French, the mother tongue of his father, like a native-born son.

He was well experienced in the life of an expatriate, a life he had chosen to lead. The girl in the room next door on the other hand had suddenly and unexpectedly found herself a long way from home, with only him to protect her. Seeing her safely back to England was now his solemn duty.

He put a hand up against the cold glass of the window. The night outside providing a dark backdrop. Staring at his reflection he made a vow.

She was one woman he was not going to fail.

He stepped away from the window as fatigue began to get the better of him. He normally slept fully naked, but tonight he thought it prudent to leave his trousers and shirt on. When the difference between life and death could be measured in seconds, time wasted in getting dressed could be crucial.

The hotel manservant who had serviced his room all week, and received generous daily tips in return, had left a bottle of port on the narrow white table to the left of the door. Will abstained from his usual night cap. Tonight he needed to sleep lightly.

From his travel trunk he withdrew a small pistol and loaded it. He then took out a dagger. Deadly sharp and with a handle that had been crafted to fit his grip to perfection it was a weapon that brooked no discussion. The blade gleamed steely silver in the candlelight. More than once it had run red with the blood of another man. He prayed neither weapon would be necessary tonight.

Lying back on the bed; pistol and dagger within easy reach, he closed his eyes. The sound of the sea drifted in through the window bringing a calm balm to his mind.

Within minutes he was asleep, dreaming of wet boots and long flaxen hair.