Elizabeth Boyle (95 page)

She didn’t like the way he said that. As if there was something wrong with the
Retribution
. Why, it was the finest ship this pig would ever have the privilege of viewing from the wharf, for he’d never be welcome to serve on her.

“What things?” she asked.

The two men exchanged glances.

“Now you’ve spilled it, Sollie,” Ferg said, jabbing his companion in the ribs. “Might as well go ahead and tell the lad.”

Sollie leaned over, pointing his dirty finger under her nose. The eye without the patch watered, as if it wasn’t much better than the one hidden. “Don’t be spreading this around or think of telling your master, or I’ll find you and split you open like a mackerel and feed your guts to the rats.”

She’d like to see the cocky bastard try. Wouldn’t he be in for a surprise.

“You promise?” he repeated.

Maureen nodded.

“That ship was captained by a woman.”

Maureen waved her hand at him. “Do you take me for a fool? A woman? What kind of crew would sail with a woman?”

“A crew headed for convoy duty.” Sollie laughed.

“How’s that?” she asked. “My master was told they were still aboard and willing to serve the next owner.”

“Yer master should have looked a little closer at the auction notice. That there crew was convicted of smuggling, so they’ve all been sentenced to service in the Navy.”

Service in the Navy? But the Lord Admiral had promised that her men would be released.

Another of Julien’s assertions coming true.

Damn him, why did he have to be right?

“So there is no one aboard her?” she asked, looking out at her ship.

“Just the rats.” Sollie laughed again.

“And the captain?” she asked, almost unwilling to hear her fate.

At this Ferg spoke up. “Gonna hang. Don’t usually take to hanging a woman, but this one weren’t natural, ‘iffin you know what I mean. Thinking she could captain a ship and get away with smuggling right under the nose of the King’s navy. Not natural, I tell you.”

Maureen had stopped listening to his idiotic diatribe. But three words echoed and beat in her chest like the resounding clap of thunder on the horizon.

Hang. Gonna hang
.

And who would stop it?

She didn’t want to think of the one man she suspected could.

Julien.

No, it couldn’t be true! She wasn’t going to hang. She had a deal with the Lord Admiral. De Ryes in exchange for her life.

A deal her lofty friend obviously had no intention of keeping.

How had Julien known?

Having not paid attention to her companions, she suddenly found them on either side of her. They caught her by the elbows, their grips as sure as a reef knot.

“Unhand me,” she told them, struggling to free herself.

“Now, why would we want to do that?” Sollie asked. “We’re set to sail with the tide, and we are still short a few men. You look like a lively lad, well suited for a life at sea.”

They began dragging her toward the gangplank.

“Let me go,” she told them, twisting this way and that in a vain attempt to break their hold. “My master will be furious if I don’t return.”

“By the time he finds out, you’ll be halfway to the Horn,” Ferg told her.

The pair laughed and continued hauling her along.

“I don’t think so, gentlemen,” a deep male voice called out from behind them.

The command in the voice was unmistakable, so much so that her captors stopped immediately.

“Let the lad go.”

The seafaring pair turned around in unison, carrying Maureen with them. There, a few feet away, stood de Ryes. He wore a plain jacket of navy superfine and buff trousers. A white shirt and a cravat tied simply finished off his plain, almost mercantile ensemble. Yet from the tilt of his hat to the sheen of his boots, there was no mistaking that this was a man of wealth, despite his rather nondescript fashion.

“Are you both deaf? Unhand that boy.” He began taking off his gloves. He made each movement slow and deliberate, as if giving them time to consider their unlikely futures.

“And who might ye be, thinking ye can order the King’s navy around? This here be Navy business. Be off with ye,” Sollie told de Ryes, glancing over at his companion as if to see that he had the backing of his shipmate in this challenge.

Ferg had already released Maureen and had taken two steps backward toward the relative safety of their ship.

“If you must know,” de Ryes said, his drawl taking on an annoyed tone, “I am that lad’s
master
.”

While she didn’t like his emphasis on the word
master
, she couldn’t help but be pleased to see him.

That in itself annoyed her even further.

“And if you must further know,” Julien continued, “I am here to see what is delaying the lad in obtaining the information I need before I purchase that ship.” He paused and stared at the man.

Still the stubborn oaf refused to release her.

“We was just gonna give the lad a tour of our ship, like he requested, gov’nor. Didn’t ye, lad?” The man’s grip tightened until she thought he was going to twist her arm off.

“No,” Maureen said defiantly. “You were trying to nab me.”

“
Tsk, tsk
,” de Ryes clucked. “That would have been unfortunate. I take it you sail with the frigate that brought in that vessel and will share in the prize money. Correct?”

The man nodded.

“Well, if you don’t unhand my assistant this moment, not only will I not buy that prize, but I will tell every interested shipowner and investor at Lloyd’s that she has rot from stem to stern. She’ll sink into the river before your captain will find anyone willing to buy her.”

“Let the brat go, Sollie,” Ferg called out. “You’ll be gutted if the captain finds out you lost us the prize money.”

Sollie didn’t appear too worried. “What if I don’t?” he spat at de Ryes.

Maureen had never seen de Ryes lose his temper, so nothing prepared her for the ugly way his mouth twisted or the arrogant arch of his brow. He stalked down the quayside, eating up the distance between them with a menacing determination.

If Sollie hadn’t still had her anchored to the planking, she would have taken a step or two backward like Ferg to get out of the way.

De Ryes stopped within inches of the man’s foul-smelling breath. “Then I’ll gut you myself, Sollie,” he told him. And before the brawny sailor could react, Julien whipped out a knife and pressed it to the man’s throat. “I doubt even the sea gulls will want what’s left of you when I get done.” He smiled, as if the prospect before him would offer no end of pleasure.

Sollie took one big gulp and finally released Maureen’s arm. “Just havin’ some fun, gov’nor. No need to get all cross with ol’ Sollie. Just havin’ some fun. Ain’t that right, laddie?”

Maureen wasted no time. She whipped out her own knife and began fingering the edge. Glancing up at de Ryes, she added her opinion. “Gut him.”

At this Sollie’s one eye widened. Then the bulky man whirled around and fled, pushing his friend out of the way as they scrambled up the gangplank.

Julien moved to her side. “I think we should depart before Sollie finds himself some more reliable shipmates. The kind willing to defend him.”

“I doubt that will ever happen.” Maureen stowed her knife and turned in the direction opposite the one Julien had indicated, quickly moving down the quayside to where the mooring lines held the
Retribution
.

“Where do you think you are going?” he asked when he caught up with her.

“Onto my ship.” She didn’t know what she was going to do, but she wasn’t about to let anyone sell her beautiful ship out from beneath her. She’d burn it to the waterline before she let that happen.

“With the Navy tied up on either side of you? And in daylight?” he asked, as she paced on either side of the iron bollards where the heavy ropes holding the
Retribution
against the tide were tied off.

Maureen paused. She hadn’t really been listening to him; rather, she’d been gauging how best to board her ship with the least chance of detection, deciding whether to climb the lines or slip into the wretched water of the Thames and board her from the shadowed side.

De Ryes caught her arm and shook her. “Have you gone mad, Reenie? I can see the plans whirling about in that diabolical mind of yours. If you think you can retake your ship single-handedly, then I ought to let you do it. They’ll hang you for sure, and then I can wash my hands of you for good.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she shot back. “Especially considering how convenient it would be for you and your lovely Miss Cottwell.”

Even as she said it, she regretted the peevish words, because they obviously delighted Julien.

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy?”

“No!”

He moved closer and whispered in her ear, “Careful, Reenie, one might think you an aggrieved spouse.”

“Spouse indeed.” She moved away from him, crossing her arms over her chest. “What would your Miss Cottwell think of you having a living, breathing wife?”

“
My
Miss Cottwell? I think you struck your head when you climbed down that drainpipe.”

She whipped around. “How did you know that? For that matter, how did you know where to send your note yesterday?”

“As I told you before, information is my business. As for your whereabouts, that was simple. I followed you home from Almack’s. And I’ve had you watched ever since. Unlike the Lord Admiral, I pay my informants to stay awake.” He paused, glancing up and down the quay. “Enough of this; I think it is time for us to depart.”

Before she could protest any further, Julien caught her by the elbow and towed her along. As they passed the frigate, it appeared Sollie was licking his wounds by rallying his mates.

For now she didn’t mind being pulled up the steps that led from the quayside to the busy London streets and out of Sollie’s way.

It would hardly do her or her crew any good if she were caught around the docks, let alone trying to board the
Retribution
. The Lord Admiral would certainly view that as a breach of their agreement.

Hell, leaving the Johnston’s’ unescorted was a breach of their agreement.

Since yesterday’s confrontation with the man, she had more than a sneaking suspicion the Lord Admiral would take great delight in seeing her hang right beside de Ryes.

“Come along,” he told her. “My carriage isn’t far, and I’ll take you back to the Johnston’s’ before someone spots you in that outlandish outfit or, worse, someone spies me down here. I’d have a deuce of a time explaining what I was doing about the docks or even why I am up at this ungodly and unfashionable hour.”

She didn’t answer, because it would mean admitting that he was right again, so she followed him. Besides, a carriage would return her to Cheapside faster than her own two feet.

Once they were settled inside, Julien taking the seat opposite hers, he gave the directions to his driver through the opening in the roof, then drew the curtains to hide their identities.

Not long after they started out, Julien laughed.

“What is so funny?” she asked.

“I find it amusing that the Lord Admiral thought to stop you by posting only two guards. He’s a bigger fool than I suspected. Obviously, he’s never seen you climb rigging.”

“T’wasn’t all that much. The drainpipe is about the only thing on that house that isn’t falling down,” she told him, doing her best to ignore the tinge of wistful pride in his voice, as if he almost wished he’d been there to see her daring feat.

He leaned back in his seat, his long, muscled legs stuck out in front of him. Julien’s carriage was a fine sight better than the hired hackney the Lord Admiral had lent Lady Mary. Her fingers ran over the richly upholstered leather; at the windows, velvet curtains shut out the world. An even more expensive conveyance than the open barouche he’d been driving yesterday.

Maureen had no doubts as to how he could afford such opulence. Captain de Ryes was rumored to be one of the best privateers on the American side. She’d heard Captain Johnston telling Lady Mary one evening that de Ryes had brought home nearly a million dollars in prizes in the first nine months of the war, all of them taken from along the coasts of England and Ireland. This season, the Captain had said, would net the American even more wealth.

So Julien’s boast on the pier about buying the
Retribution
was probably true. He could buy her ship—and a fleet more like her. Before long he’d be able to buy the Admiralty, lock, stock, and barrel, with his rumored luck and skill at catching only the best prizes.

She looked up and found him studying her. Even in the dim light of the carriage, his eyes held an intensity that burned through her.

“Dammit, Reenie,” he said, his voice strangely choked. “You don’t know how good it is to see you. See you alive.”

She glanced away. She couldn’t look any longer into those familiar green eyes. The color of the sea after a stormy day.

Growing warm in the closed coach, she pulled off her cap, letting her hair tumble down.

Exactly how he liked it, she remembered only too late, hastily stuffing the cap back on her head.

“You look like you did the first time I saw you. High above the waves, the wind pulling stray tendrils from under your cap.”

He crossed the space between them, his fingers catching one of those stray locks.

“I wanted you then. Just as much as I want you now.” His fingers caught her chin and tipped it so she looked at him.

She’d heard the catch in his voice and didn’t like what it did to her heart. His voice whispered of intimacy, a sense of connection, the tie between them.

One she feared, looking into his mesmerizing gaze, that she would never be able to break. Not until the day she died.

Her fingers knotted into fists at her side. She wasn’t supposed to have any feelings when it came to this man.

None other than hate and revenge and anger.

But his declaration, like his arrival on the docks, had blindsided her heart. Breached the wall she’d built around her soul and kindled something she had no wish to see lit again.