Elizabeth Boyle (96 page)

Feelings for Julien.

She didn’t say a word, mostly because she was afraid that her own voice might betray the truth.

He still made her breath catch. Left her heart fluttering. Made her long for his arms.

“Reenie,” he whispered, drawing her closer. “Tell me you want the same things.”

She shook her head, but he ignored her. He brought his lips down on hers, taking possession of them with the fervent, pent-up passion of a man dying of thirst.

Stop him
, her mind screamed.
This is trickery
.

But that banshee cry, that lost part of her desire, was so much louder. It held back her reason, banished her common sense.

All the while his tongue teased her, enticing her to open up to him.

And she did.

He brushed her cap off her head, his fingers combing the tangled threads of hair until they streamed down her back in long coils.

For a moment he pulled back, both of them gasping for air. His lips found their way back to the nape of her neck, sending shivers down her spine. She arched toward him, and he pulled her tighter.

“I knew if you would just give me a chance, you’d forgive me,” he whispered into her ear.

Forgive?
It was as if she’d been dashed with a bucket of seawater from the North Atlantic.

She hadn’t forgiven him! She’d only betrayed herself. Let her weakness for him overtake her.

Clawing her way out of his arms, she fled to the far side of the carriage, panting and cursing.

“What the devil?” he said, trying to follow her.

In a flash she whipped her dagger out of her boot and let it fill the space between them.

Julien stopped just before the point found its way into his chest. He backed into his seat. “What did I do?”

She knew she had to say something. She glanced up at him and saw the open desire in his eyes. It cut through her more surely than if he’d sliced out her heart.

Say something, she told herself. Tell him to go to hell. If she didn’t say something, anything, she knew he’d try to cross the space between them again. That’s exactly what his glance told her he wanted to do.

Suddenly, his fine, roomy carriage seemed more like the smallest of prison cells.

“Why hasn’t someone blown you out of the water and saved me the bother?” she finally managed to stutter. Even after she said the words, she regretted them.

Mostly because, for once, she didn’t mean them.

He laughed, loud and hard. Better yet, he settled back in his seat and looked like he intended to stay on his side. “I suppose, I hoped you’d come back from the dead and that pleasure would be yours.”

“If I had my ship, I’d—”

He held up his hand. “I know, you’d hunt me down, you’d see me fed to the nearest school of sharks, you’d run me through a thousand times before you’d finish me off. I know what you’d do, Reenie. I know only too well.” It was his turn to glance away, part the curtains, and stare out into the London streets. “If I’d known you were alive, I would have probably given you the pleasure.” He looked back at her, the resignation in his voice matching the weary lines around his eyes. “And if we both manage to get out of London alive . . . well, we’ll see how you feel then.”

“I’ll get out,” she told him, though at this point she wasn’t too sure how she’d accomplish that. Before anything else she had to find her crew and see to their freedom. “And my feelings won’t have changed. Make no mistake, I’ll never forgive you.”

“I suppose not,” he said. It seemed as if he was going to say more, but he shook his head and looked away.

The silence between them was almost as uncomfortable as the memories of the kiss they’d just shared. “How did you know about my father?” she asked.

“He told me. When I was aboard the
Forgotten Lady
. One night after you went to bed, he told me he’d been in the Royal Navy. That he’d been court-martialed.”

“Why would he tell you?” Her question held an unspoken second part.
Why would he tell you, and not me?

“I don’t know.”

“Did he tell you anything else?”

He shook his head. “Not much. Just that the Lord Admiral had been instrumental in bringing the charges and testifying against him. What I’ve been able to learn since is that your father was convicted and sentenced to life on a prison hulk. As far as the world is concerned, Ethan Hawthorne died there.”

“But he didn’t die there,” Maureen said, more to herself.

Between them lay the obvious. Ethan Hawthorne had died later. Died by another’s treachery.

An uneasy silence filled the carriage.

After some time he said, “I can help you. I’ll find your men. And save your ship from the block as well.”

Maureen felt it was akin to taking blood money to accept his offer.

But she knew if anyone could locate her men, it was Julien. And he’d do it with the necessary speed. By the time she could gain access to that information, they’d be scattered to the four winds, trapped until their deaths in the British Navy.

She wouldn’t let that happen. They were her men. It was her fault they’d been taken off Sheerness, and she would do anything to see them safe.

Even bargain with the devil.

But the
Retribution
?

“You told me back there my ship couldn’t be taken,” she said. “How do you propose to steal it away from the Navy?”

“I don’t intend to steal it. I intend to buy it.”

“Buy my ship?” She nearly came out of her seat.

He shook his head at her. “Stubborn as ever. And what do you propose, to buy it back yourself? I’m sure the Lord Admiral will approve of that.”

He had her there. She crossed her arms over her chest and told him, “You’ll not buy my ship.”

“You don’t have any other choice. I won’t let you lose the
Retribution
. I owe you that much.” He paused for a moment. “She looks fast and trim. Good for smuggling. Probably even privateering.”

“She gets me where I need to go,” she said. Looking up, she caught him smiling at her, for there was no doubt he’d noted the pride in her voice. “Why should I trust you? Why do you want to do this for me?”

“You know why I want to do this for you.”

“It won’t change how I feel.”

He nodded. Carefully, he drew back the curtain and gauged their progress. After he let the fabric slip back into place, he looked up at her.

“In the meantime, Reenie, do we have to spend every moment we have together locked in a battle over the past?”

“That’s all you left me.” Well, almost, she thought. There was more, but not anything she would share with him.

Ever.

“Have you considered it was all I left myself as well? That everything that died for you that day died for me as well?”

Maureen wished she could close her ears off to the regret in his voice, the gut-wrenching guilt.

As fast as she could, she closed her heart to the impossible.

He hadn’t lost anything that day, she told herself. He’d gained everything he wanted. He’d made his name, started his fortune, all at her expense.

How dare he claim to have lost anything!

“Say what you will,” she told him, matching his gaze with one she hoped showed only the iron in her will. “I’ll nevertheless turn you in.”

“I know. And I don’t blame you. But I’ve still got some time to change your mind on that as well.”

“Not much. I can’t keep the Lord Admiral at bay forever. And he’s not a man to suffer fools gladly.”

Julien nodded. “It will take me at least a week to find and free your men. I’ll get them to a safe port on the coast, one I’ve used from time to time. By then I’ll have your ship there as well.”

“A week?” She shook her head. “You don’t need a week. What have you to gain by that much time?”

“Your heart?”

It was her turn to laugh. “Mark my words, de Ryes, or D’Artiers, or whoever you are, I’ll give you a week. For once I have my ship and my crew, you’ll be hanging from the front steps of the Admiralty, and you’ll have no need of my heart.”

M
aureen found climbing back into her room as easy as it was climbing out—until she turned around from the windowsill and found a wide-eyed Lucy watching her.

The always-garrulous serving girl didn’t stand gaping for long. “Miss Maureen, you could break your neck out there. Hasn’t anyone shown you the back stairs? ‘Tis a fine sight easier to sneak out from than down the drainpipe.” With that the girl grinned.

“You won’t tell on me, will you, Lucy?” Maureen asked, brushing her dirty hands over her rough trousers.

“Lol, Miss, if I was to tell on you, how would that make her ladyship feel?” Lucy put the bundle of laundry she held atop the bureau and started to put away Maureen’s freshly cleaned unmentionables. The girl glanced over her shoulder. “She’s happier since you arrived than she’s been in years. She doesn’t mind a bit ‘iffin I don’t get the silver polished or the ironing is behind. You’ve been a godsend to this house, that you have.” She winked at Maureen from beneath the white lace of her mobcap and then started to leave.

Before she got to the door, she turned and said, “Himself, her ladyship, and
that man
are downstairs. Have been most of the morning. They’ve asked for you. I told them you were indisposed, but now her ladyship is insisting you come down. What should I tell her?”

Maureen didn’t need to ask who the third party waiting for her in the salon might be—considering Lucy’s tone, it could only be the Lord Admiral. “Tell them I’ll be down presently.”

Lucy bobbed her head.

“And, Lucy,” Maureen said after the departing maid. “Thank you.”

The girl shrugged her shoulders. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to help you get into that day dress Lady Mary insisted you have. I think it is a fair sight better for company than what you’re wearing now, if you’ll pardon me saying it.” Lucy closed the door behind her.

Maureen let out a sigh of relief and set to work getting cleaned up. She’d have a hard time explaining to her hosts and their guest why she smelled like the docks.

With Lucy’s help she was brushed and dressed in no time, and as she came down the stairs, she heard the Lord Admiral’s voice rising in agitation from Lady Mary’s salon.

“Will, I tell you, this girl has to find de Ryes and find him fast.”

Maureen’s ears perked at the sound of desperation in the man’s voice. It seemed he needed her as much as she needed him. She moved closer to the salon, careful not to give her presence away.

“Whatever is the hurry, my lord?” Captain Johnston was asking. “Mary’s got the girl sailing every high-blown event in town. She’ll find this pirate, but it might take time.”

“I don’t have time.”

At this Maureen moved right to the edge of the door. If she was going to believe Julien and trust him to help her, she needed another week, time the Lord Admiral obviously was not about to allow.

The lofty man cleared his throat and then lowered his voice, though Maureen could still hear his confession.

“This is highly confidential, William. I wouldn’t tell you this if I didn’t trust you. But you have to see the importance of finding this man, if it means you and Mary escort that chit to every soiree, musicale, and ball I’ve managed to secure invitations to. The
Bodiel
sails from Portsmouth the end of next week. It must be underway by then if it is to get across the Atlantic undetected.”

“The
Bodiel
, eh?” Captain Johnston said. “Captain Frey has that command. Good man. But the
Bodiel
‘tis hardly a ship anyone would look twice at taking. Just a regular packet. What could be so important that she has to sail with so much secrecy?”

“She’ll be carrying the officer’s pay for the American blockades, as well as enough gold to pay all the naval suppliers in Halifax. There’s been rumbling by the merchants there that they won’t provision any more ships until they are paid. And paid in gold.” The Lord Admiral snorted. “Impertinent devils, but they have to be kept mollified, or they may just up and join their Colonial cousins to the south of them.”

Maureen stepped back from the doorway, the impact of this information staggering her imagination.

A payroll ship. A privateer’s dream come true.

It was well known that the British Navy sent out packets nearly every day to all four corners of the world. The little vessels carried mostly administrative missives and mail, nothing to tempt a privateer or other ship. But occasionally, these nondescript, usually routine sailings also carried payroll. Gold enough to make the average privateer—and every man aboard with a stake in the prize—a wealthy man for life.

Not that most could catch them. Packets were deliberately stripped to carry minimal crew and arms, for they relied purely on their speed to outrun any pursuit, making them nearly impossible to catch on the open seas.

But coming out of a harbor—now, that was a different matter.

Maureen gulped. No wonder Julien wanted another week out of her. He must have heard rumors of a payroll being sent and was trying to find out from where and when it would sail.

It could be the only explanation for his determination to stay in London.

The gold the
Bodiel
would carry would likely tempt any man to flaunt his neck before the hangman. Even make him go as far as to trust a wife bent on revenge.

Do anything to convince her that he was trustworthy, offer her anything, including his treacherous heart.

“Ah, Maureen, my dear girl,” Lady Mary called out from behind her. “There you are.”

She whirled around and nearly leapt out of her skin to be caught so, not that Lady Mary appeared to notice that anything might be amiss at finding her lurking about the doorway.

Lucy trailed behind her mistress, bearing an over-laden tea tray. With the Lord Admiral’s largesse, Lady Mary had also seen to restocking her larders.

“No more stale cakes in this house,” Maureen had heard her mutter more than once.

Maureen forced a smile to her face. “I’m sorry I delayed you and your guest. I was rather tired this morning.”

“So Lucy told me,” Lady Mary said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. At her ladyship’s feet the ever-present Baxter trotted along, his curly tale wavering as he sniffed at Maureen’s hem. His little flat nose twitched in dismay as he backed away from her so quickly, he nearly upset Lucy and her tea tray.