The Rogue's Surrender (The Nelson's Tea Series Book 3) (3 page)

Eddie’s masculinity flared to full effect. “Your
sex
?” His laughter grated her nerves. How was it possible they shared the same bloodlines? “Sister, you misunderstand.” He turned toward her and smiled tenderly. “You are
the ideal
woman, a refined, delicate flower in need of protection. You have been spoiled by our father. One has only to gaze upon your fashionable appearance to come to that conclusion.”

He moved around the desk and ruffled the lace frill around her neck with a flick of his wrist. “And you’ve been doted on by our mother, as displayed in that volatile temperament you have a habit of unleashing whenever you don’t get your way. My men are not well-armed against you. Suffice it to say, my ship is no place for someone so…” He waved his hands about. “…unpredictable.”

“Aha!” She spun on her heel and put distance between them to keep from bursting into laughter.

“Think badly of me, if you must.” He sighed like a man destined to obscurity.

She peered over her shoulder. Emotions flashed across Eddie’s face: bitterness, sadness, determination.

“There are things one must do in order to survive.” His voice sounded as if it was weighted by anvils.

Was Eddie a prisoner of fate as much as she? “I heartily agree.”

Mercy’s heart ached for Eddie — for Spain — for those who carried the torch of freedom to their deaths. She curbed the urge to embrace him, knowing she couldn’t be caught eyeing his nautical charts.

Patience.

Her thoughts turned back to her brother and his reluctance to break rank. What saddened her most was that Eddie would never know the lengths she’d gone to help end this war. His alliance with Napoleon made him dangerous to her father, to her, and to their British born mother, though she knew he would never deliberately put them in danger.
Eddie isn’t that foolish, is he?
No. Her brother was an enterprising enigma she and her parents walked around on tender hooks. So much had been purposefully withheld from him in order to cloak their activities and keep his awareness of the tunnels beneath their home safely hidden.

Oh, how had they become so different?

Eddie was the product of his environment, a true Spaniard. Because of that, he hadn’t quite gotten over Spain’s defeat against the English fleet at Trafalgar. Caught between two worlds, he drifted warily without conviction to either cause.

What was it he’d said about Nelson’s death? “
Something brilliant had been taken out of this world.”

In a prophetic way, he was right. Her heart warmed. Eddie believed every one of her falsehoods without question.

She walked carefully toward him, the truth hovering temptingly on her lips. “Let’s not fight. It’s you I’ve come to see, Eddie. No one else. I’m extremely proud of the man you’ve become, and I’m here to tell you so.”

“Your words fall on deaf ears,
hermanita
.”

She grabbed his arm a bit more aggressively than proper and turned him toward her, lifting her other hand to his cheek, caressing the short-cropped beard marring his handsome olive-toned skin. “Do not speak as if you are powerless to do great things. We are never qualified to do what’s right. But if we choose, we can make a difference.”

“I’ve been ordered to remain inland and scavenge what’s left of an English ship. I am a joke, a dog on Napoleon’s tethered leash. That is what I’ve become.”

Her heart hitched at the agony concealed in his voice. Eddie had always been entirely too proud, like their father had been when their mother first met him.

“Your life has great purpose. You will see.”

“Our mother’s birthright has sealed my fate… and yours.” Now the vehemence in his tone reminded her that
Don
Esteban, the man seeking her approval to marry, had been right. He’d predicted Spain would be called upon to help Napoleon create an
imperium sine fine.
How could she and Eddie abide this empire without end, at the detriment of relations with England?

“Is that why you think you were given command of this ship? To prove your loyalty to Spain and the French campaign?”

“I know so.”

“Silly man,” she said playfully, sliding her hand down his arm. “You’ve earned your command based on merit. Our mother is devoted to our father, he to Spain’s ultimate good. We are no different, you and I. We honor our parents and the origins of our birth.”

“Mother chose a man, not a country that chose to follow a power hungry dictator.”

Mercy placed her finger on his lips. “Shh.” She cast her gaze toward the door. “I am not here to argue or cast blame. No one can truly know a man’s allegiances, but
we
know who
we
are. Don’t we?”

He grabbed her hand then placed it between his. “Knowing isn’t enough.”

What haunted him? It was as if Nelson’s death meant they could never return to England if they so desired. Though she wouldn’t reveal it to anyone other than her mother, she dreamed of London, the
ton
, balls, and the social whirl surrounding their cousin, Constance, Duchess of Blendingham. In fact, she could only hope that England’s disgust with all things French and Spanish would soon be at an end so she could meet her cousin for the very first time.

Thump. Thump.

“You really should—”

“Shh.” Eddie put the tip of his finger over her lips. “Do not move.”

“Why? What is wrong?” What could her brother possibly have to fear on board his own ship?

Wood moaned all around them.

“That cannot be.” His suspicious gaze widened as he focused on their feet. “Impossible!”

He stepped away and charged the stern windows, unlatching them and throwing them open.

Confused and alarmed, Mercy followed. “What is it?” The swish of her bombazine skirts crackled in the silence as she stopped to stare at the churning water below. “What is happening?”

Eddie turned abruptly. “We. Are. Moving.”

“We are…” What did he mean they were moving? “How is that possible?”

If
La Mota
launched before she was able to disembark, how would she make it to
Castro Urdiales
and St. Mary of the Assumption
in time to meet her English contact? No. This couldn’t be happening. The key evidence she carried could not wait for another dispatch.

“I demand to know what is going on!”

“I am going to find out.” His voice nearly strangled out of his throat as Eddie hurriedly turned away from the window. “I gave no such order.”

Mercy’s heartbeat raced like a thoroughbred bolting out of a paddock. Only, unlike a powerful racehorse, she had nowhere to run. “You cannot possibly launch now. I am still on board!”

Panic swelled within her breast. She clasped her fists so tight, her fingernails dug into her flesh. She couldn’t be headed to France, into the heart of the revolution. A launch meant the currents wouldn’t allow an easy return to port. The Bay of Biscay was a heartless entity. And everything she needed for a journey had been left in her carriage. Her maid, her trunks…
Dios mio!

She placed her hand over her ribs as she struggled to breathe.

France offered nothing but certain death.
If
anyone discovered her treacherous activities, she’d be executed without question.

Bile rose in her throat. Her stomach recoiled. She placed fingers on her temples as if she could will away the dizzying vapors sweeping over her.

Eddie’s face paled. “This,” he raged, “is precisely why I objected to you being here in the first place. Now, as irregular as this is, you must stay calm until I can find a way to get you off
my
ship.”

She wasn’t a weak-kneed female. “How will that be possible now, eh? You were not supposed to launch for hours. I am not prepared for weeks at sea…” She couldn’t finish without revealing information about her clandestine activities.

“Shh.” He placed his palm over her mouth and jerked her away from the open window. “Clothes,” he whispered near her ear, “are the least of your worries now,
hermanita
.”

His meaning became agonizingly clear. Something had gone terribly wrong. She struggled to remove his hand from her mouth.

He tightened his grip. “Promise me, you will remain calm. I do not need a terrified woman on my hands too.”

Trapped against his chest, she nodded.

When he finally freed her mouth, she hissed softly. “If you are
Capitán
of this ship, why do you not have control over it?”

His brown eyes darkened, the way they’d always done when Eddie faced reprimand, reminding her that Vasquez blood heated with little warning. If there was a way to rectify the situation and retain honor, Eddie would find it.

Her outward calm betrayed her inner horror. Dread inched up Mercy’s spine. Who would dare undermine her brother’s command? And more importantly, why?

“You have my vow nothing will happen to you.” He let her go and set her away from him. “I will find out what is going on.”

A knot cinched below Mercy’s ribs. Had she made a mistake allowing love to interfere with duty? She’d come aboard
La Mota
to tell Eddie goodbye. Her momentary lapse in judgment was disadvantageous indeed. Lord Henry Melville had been charged with misappropriating ₤20,000 of treasury funds, diverting them to private accounts, as well as borrowing without paying interest. Mr. Plumer’s not-guilty plea to the nine charges held little sway against Mr. Whitbread’s case unless she could produce the evidence they needed to prove his innocence.

Anger and desperation surged inside her. She verbally attacked Eddie. “Who would dare disobey you?” She wanted to wring the man’s neck herself.

Eddie gathered his accoutrements, then strapped on his leather belt and sword. He picked up his bicorn and placed it on his head as he walked to the cabin door.

She followed him, fearful and curious.

He reached out an arm and stopped her. “Stay here.”

But she didn’t want to be left behind. “No!” The word escaped her mouth before she could prevent it, making her sound foolish, desperate. She was. Lives depended on her and she didn’t trust Eddie enough to take care of her on his own.

She fought to hide her trembling hands in the folds of her skirts so her fragile nerves didn’t draw attention. She couldn’t allow Eddie to question how dangerous her situation had become.

“
Querida
, stay calm. I told you a ship is no place for a woman. You reap what you sow.”

“If this is how you seek to calm me, Eddie, you are not helping…”

Eddie grabbed her by the chin and gazed into her eyes. “Do not be frightened. I will discover the reason for our early departure. I am sure it is nothing but a line breaking loose.” He pulled her close.

She held on to him, disbelieving his lie, desperately fearing what awaited him on deck. In her line of work, there were no accidents.

He took a step back. “Wait here. Understand?”

Her gaze strayed to the open windows.

“Do not, for any reason, walk out this door until I have returned. It will take quite a bit of maneuvering to pass the currents of Santa Clara, but I will manage it. We will sail back into port after I discover what has forced my crew to act against my orders.”

Mercy clutched her brother’s upper arm to clasp her to him, however foolhardy that was. She wanted — needed — to make him understand. He didn’t know the steps she’d taken to preserve their futures. How close she was to being detected by the enemy. How could she explain that she needed him to sail for
Castro Urdiales
instead without exposing herself for what she was… an English spy?

Her voice broke. “Ed-die. Things are not what they seem. There are aspects of my life you do not understand.”

“What else is there to know, eh?” He distanced himself, both emotionally and physically. She saw it in his eyes before he vacated her arms. “Sometimes,
hermanita
, you make little sense.”

She smiled morosely as Eddie strode to the cabin door and opened it. She wanted to run to him, to throw herself in his arms again, plead for him to be careful, but pride held her back. He hated theatrics.

“I’m a woman, dear brother. What else is there to know?”

A thickening lump formed in her throat as Eddie cocked a final lop-sided, impish grin and closed the door. Within seconds, Mercy heard a key scrape in the lock.

With nowhere to go, she was trapped, dependent on Eddie’s return.

“
Dios misericordioso
.” Mercy made the sign of the cross and clasped her hands over her heart.

Would Eddie’s show of bravado be enough?

Mercy had to occupy her mind to keep her fears at bay. She spun around to face the cabin. What exactly were Eddie’s orders?

She approached the desk sitting in the middle of the cabin and inspected the nautical charts haphazardly strewn there. She ran her finger over the charts indicating
La Mota
was headed to Calais. Why? Unanswered questions spun through her mind. What purpose did
La Mota
serve Napoleon here rather than at sea? Why had the ship been kept in the bay when it could have been of particular use in the confrontation with British naval forces at Trafalgar?