He couldn't imagine what his father would do when he found him. He shrank down as far as he could behind the sailcloth and closed his eyes tightly, trying to believe as he had when he was very little that if he couldn't see people, they couldn't see him.

"Oh, that's better." Gabby's voice penetrated his terrified trance. "It's so stuffy in there."

"It'll be very cold once we round the Needles and reach the open sea," Nathaniel replied. "You'll be glad enough of the shelter then."

"Maybe." Gabrielle held the deck rail and threw back her head, looking up into the overcast sky, where the misty shadow of the moon hung over them. The spray stung her face and she breathed deeply of the salt-tanged air. It felt good deep in her lungs. She looked back to the diminishing lights of Lymington quay. "I hope it stays calm. I'm not the world's best sailor."

"Goodness me," Nathaniel said in tones of feigned amazement. "Don't tell me you have a weakness."

"Unkind," she protested with a soft laugh. "I have many weaknesses." Being herewith you is one of them. But for the moment there was nothing to be gained by fighting that weakness.

"I'm hungry," she said. "It seems ages since dinner. It must be the sea air."

"You've been sailing for only half an hour," Nathaniel pointed out. "However, I had the forethought to bring some provisions. Shall we go below?"

"No, let's have a picnic up here."

The voices were so close to Jake, he could almost imagine touching Gabrielle. He wanted to jump up and run to her, bury his head in her skirt, feel her warmth and her arms around him, her lips brushing his cheek when she kissed him, her hand ruffling his hair. But then his father spoke again, and he huddled wretchedly back into his corner.

"So what did you bring?" Gabriel e turned from the rail as Nathaniel reemerged from the companionway. She smiled and the moon broke through a gap in the clouds, throwing her face into silver relief.

Her smile was candid, inviting, as if she had nothing to hide, and despite everything he knew, he couldn't prevent his own lips curving in response.

"You'll see. We'll use this as a table." He kicked forward an upturned crate and squatted down before it, feeling into the bag he carried with the air of a magician about to produce a litter of rabbits.

"Cognac, for the warmth," he declared, flourishing the bottle as if it were a prize. "Then one of Cook's special veal and ham pies…" This joined the cognac on the makeshift table. "Two chicken drumsticks, a round of cheddar, and some apples. How does that sound?"

"Inspired." Gabrielle sat on the deck, leaning her back against the rail.

"No utensils, I'm afraid. We'll have to drink from the bottle and use my pocket knife for cutting." Nathaniel produced the knife as he handed the cognac to Gabrielle. He cut a V into the golden raised crust of the pie.

Jake listened to the sounds of the picnic. He could smell the food and the nose-tingling aroma of the cognac. He was cold and hungry. His father's voice sounded quite different from normal-gay, lighthearted, full of laughter. Gabby spoke with her mouth full, choked, Papa patted her on the back, and they both laughed. It didn't sound as if they could ever be cross. Jake half rose from his cramped crouch, but his nerve failed him and he shrank back again.

"We're rounding the Needles." Nathaniel stood up and reached a hand down to pull Gabrielle to her feet. "Vicious, aren't they?"

The water boiled around the row of jagged rocks obtruding from the tip of the Isle of Wight. Gabrielle shivered and drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders. The moon had disappeared again and the beacon in the lighthouse glowed strong in the darkness. The mournful clanging of the warning bell carried across the water.

"I've never made this crossing," she said. "I've always crossed from Dover to Calais and vice versa. It seems alot less wild."

They were leaving the Isle of Wight and the sheltered Solent behind. The wind blew stronger now and the sea had lost its docile quality, stretching ahead and around in a rolling expanse of white-capped surges. The fishing boat seemed to ride the waves with ease, Gabrielle noted with some relief, running a mental check over the state of her stomach, it occurred to her that a greedy supper had perhaps been unwise.

"Let's go below," Nathaniel said. "It's getting chilly and it's late. We should try to snatch a couple of hours sleep."

"That cot's very narrow," Gabrielle demurred, but allowed herself to be urged toward the companionway.

"You can have it, I'll sleep on the floor."

"That'll be horribly uncomfortable."

"I've been more so," he said. "In general, I can sleep anywhere."

Jake listened to their voices fading away as they disappeared below. Despite his fear of discovery, he'd found their proximity comforting. His clothes were damp with the sea spray and he could taste salt on his lips, mingling with the salt of his tears. Unutterable loneliness washed over him between the dark, unfriendly sea and the cloud-thick sky.

In his wretched self-absorption he didn't hear the footsteps until they were upon him. "What the 'ell 'ave we 'ere!"

The violent exclamation brought a cry of terror from the child, who shrank back against the railing. A man towered over him, huge in his britches and sailor's jersey, very like Jake's own. Hands reached down and seized the boy beneath his armpits and hauled him un-gently into the air.

"You know what we do wi' stowaways?" the rough voice demanded. "We make 'em swim fer shore."

For a second Jake was held dangling over the railing and his shrill scream split the night air. "Gabby… Gabby!" He yelled the one name that meant salvation at the top of his lungs.

"What on earth is that racket?" Nathaniel, in the process of helping Gabrielle pull off her boots, dropped her foot abruptly and turned to the companionway. He stuck his head through the hatch. "What's going on?"

"Beggin' yer pardon, sir, but we've got ourselves a stowaway." The sailor held up the kicking, screaming child.

"Gabby!" Jake shrieked again. "I want Gabby."

"Dear God in heaven," Nathaniel whispered. "Jake!"

"You know the lad, sir?"

"My son," Nathaniel said quietly. "Give him to me."

"I want Gabby," Jake continued to bellow in pure hysteria, and suddenly she was there, pushing Nathaniel aside as she squeezed through the narrow hatch.

"Jake." She held out her arms and, as the sailor set the boy on his feet, he ran sobbing to her.

"All right," she said, stroking his head. "It's all right. I've got you. It's all right."

Nathaniel stood, watching. It seemed as if this had nothing to do with him, but it was his son. Gabrielle had known the child only a few weeks, and it was as if his father didn't exist.

She was curved over the child, her body in a graceful arc of comfort, her hair escaping from its pins, falling forward, blending with his son's fair curls. And it came to him that even if she had used the child in her scheming, the warmth and closeness between them was genuine. Gabrielle loved his son.

"I'm right sorry, sir," the sailor was saying, pulling on his earlobe. "I don't know 'ow 'e could 'ave got aboard."

"We'll have to turn back," Nathaniel instructed. "Immediately."

"Can't do that, sir. Tide and wind are runnin' agin us. We'll never make it back round the Needles."

Nathaniel produced a string of barnyard oaths that impressed even the two fishermen. Jake's sobs had faded to heaving gulps, but his head remained buried in Gabrielle's skirts.

"Get below," Nathaniel commanded harshly with a brusque gesture to Gabrielle.

"Come along, Jake." She chivvied the child ahead of her to the companionway, climbed down first, and then lifted him down after her.