The Earl's Bride

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The Earl's Bride Page 13

by Joanne Wadsworth


  “The rumors are very true, which is why I have a home along the Maghreb Coast. A spymaster thrives on being among his fellow spies.” The captain faced her, inspected her from head to toe and nodded firmly. “Clearly, I can now no longer sell you for a fortune at the souk in Tangier.”

  She smiled, his teasing tone breaking the tension. “You honestly would have tried?”

  “Yes, even though your sister might never have spoken to me again.” Smirking, he plucked weapons out from under the seat, strapped a sword belt on and slotted the curved blade of a saber at his hip. A pistol got pocketed next, then he slid a dagger into his boot.

  “You seem to have quite the arsenal on hand. Do you have a spare pistol by chance?” She wouldn’t mind some protection herself, even though she’d never touched a weapon in her life.

  “Do you know how to use one?” He quirked a brow.

  “No, but I’m a quick learner.” She folded her gown and tucked it away in the satchel.

  “I see, but a smaller, more discreet weapon is what you need.” He removed more weaponry from under the bench and opened a slot in the roof before handing them up to Giovani. With the final remaining dagger in hand, he slid the sheathed blade into her boot and tucked her trouser hem over it. “You’re now armed, but you must allow Giovani and I to guard and protect you. I give you my word no harm shall come to you.”

  “Thank you.” She patted the dagger, the cold steel reassuring against her skin.

  Onward, they rode, while out the window drizzle slicked the cobbled streets and fog rolled in. Brick buildings, blackened with soot, held broken front steps and uneven doors. Shouts and curses mingled with the pounding of their horses’ hooves.

  When they finally slowed and halted before an inn with a wooden sign swinging above the front door reading Boar Head Tavern, she clenched the edge of the window, her fingers frozen.

  Two rowdy, drunk men staggered out, one falling onto his face in a mucky puddle. Another man stepped clear of those two, his attire immaculate, a man she’d met before at various balls. She whispered his name, “Blackburne.”

  “Where?” Anteros slid in front of the window and growled under his breath. “I see him, and his presence here at the Boar Head Tavern is far too coincidental for my liking.”

  “Isn’t he the man you recovered the jade mask from?”

  “Yes, of which he bought for a large sum from a contact of his at the eastern docks. Devil take it. He must have purchased it from Geoffrey Lewiston who owns this tavern.” He snorted, his gaze narrowing. “I’ve spoken with Geoffrey Lewiston before, although not recently. Captain Lewiston and his brother are clearly working together.”

  Blackburne walked past their coach and another man with an eye patch caught up to him. The two men rounded the corner and Anteros scowled.

  “Do you know the other man?” she asked him.

  “The man with the eye patch is Geoffrey Lewiston.” He rapped the ceiling and when Giovani popped his head through the upper slot, he instructed his man, “Tell the driver to discreetly follow both the solicitor and the tavern owner.”

  They followed the two men to the corner, where Blackburne and Lewiston shook hands and suddenly separated. Blackburne alighted into a carriage and Lewiston strode on toward the docks.

  “Who do we follow now?” Giovani asked Bourbon through the slot.

  “We know where Blackburne lives and has his offices, so we can catch up with him later. For now, we need to follow Geoffrey Lewiston since he is headed toward the ships moored at berth.” Anteros nodded at his man. “That is a jade pin glinting from his shirt.”

  “I noticed it too,” Giovani muttered.

  So had Sophia.

  She held tight to her seat as they bumped along. Geoffrey strode directly along a walkway toward a three-mast ship at berth, while their coach came to a rocking halt when they could go no farther.

  Anteros bounded out, reached back and swung her down beside him.

  Giovani, heavily armed, jumped down and joined them.

  Anteros tugged the brim of her cap lower over her face and leaned into her ear. “Stay behind me where I know you’re safe. That’s an order.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter 13

  In the dark of the night, Donnelly hauled himself over the side of Lewiston’s ship at berth, a formidable three-mast vessel, a floating fortress which couldn’t have been purchased without a great deal of coin. Like that contained within the chest. Hell, Captain Lewiston was a despicable thief, one currently standing on the upper deck next to the wheel as he surveyed charts spread across a tabled platform, a lamp burning.

  “Brother, I’m here.” Geoffrey Lewiston strode up the gangplank and appeared out of the dark, his eye patch in place as he joined Captain Lewiston. Well, it appeared the tavern owner had caught up to him and Sawyer. Good, he could kill two birds with one stone.

  Turning back, he offered Sawyer a hand on board. His man snuck over and dropped in beside him. He motioned to Lewiston and his brother at the helm. “I’ll take the captain, while you take his brother.”

  Sawyer nodded.

  Keeping low, they crept forward, staying within the shadows along the foredeck where crates were stacked high with provisions yet to be stored below in the hold.

  He brushed past one crate and caught the glint of weaponry within. How fortunate. Even though he had a pistol in his pocket, the more weapons he had on hand, the better. He gestured for Sawyer to arm himself, and both of them slid a saber free and slotted daggers in their boots and belts.

  “Donnelly?” A rough whisper traveled to him as a man slithered over the side of the ship, a touch of moonlight tracing across his face. Captain Bourbon. A second man snuck over after him, then the two men lifted a lad on board with a cap hiding his face.

  He and Sawyer crouched next to Bourbon and he clasped the spymaster’s hand. “Good timing. I’ve not long come from the Boar Head Tavern. Geoffrey Lewiston owns it and has sold it to Blackburne. Both the captain and his brother are here now, due to set sail on the high tide. They’re as thick as thieves, Bourbon.”

  “We followed Geoffrey here from the tavern, right after Blackburne alighted into a coach and left.” Bourbon gestured toward his man. “This is Giovani, one of my most trusted men.”

  “It’s good to meet you, Giovani. And the lad?” Donnelly tried to get a better look at the boy, but he kept his head tucked down. “Is it Wills?”

  “No, Wills remains at your warehouse, keeping an eye out for me.” Bourbon grasped his shoulder. “You need to keep an open mind about what I’m about to say.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I’ve spoken to you about the foreseer who issued me instructions. She also gave me a grave warning, one I didn’t care to ignore, not tonight, not considering all that’s occurred.”

  “I’ve never met a foreseer, but yours seems to have led you on the right path so far.” He had to concede that much.

  “Shira is a wise woman.” Bourbon released a staggered breath. “With that being the case, I’ve followed her advice, which means I had to bring Sophia with me tonight. Sophia must also remain until all is uncovered. Your continued safety will be in question otherwise.”

  His heart dumped to his feet, his ears ringing. Surely, he’d misheard Bourbon. This ship was the last place he wanted Sophia, particularly when a battle was about to unfold. He drew in a deep breath and released it as slowly as he could, then lifted her chin with one finger. Her stubborn blue gaze met his from under the lad’s cap. “You shouldn’t have come, no matter the grave warning from the seer.”

  “I had no other choice.”

  “We need to speak about your inability to follow my orders.” Curving his hand around her neck, he dragged her up against him and trying to find some blasted focus with her so close to the battle about to unfold, muttered in her ear, “You’re to stay out of sight. Do you understand?”

  “I’ll remain right here behind these crates.” She pressed a hand to
his chest. “I’m glad we found you. How are you?”

  “Not in the mood for jovial conversation.”

  “Duly noted.” She stared at his mouth, her eyes darkening, then she blinked and lifted her gaze back to his. “We have a thief to capture and contain, along with his nefarious brother. If you get hurt during your coming confrontation with Lewiston, I’ll be furious with you.”

  “Capturing and containing Lewiston and his brother won’t be an issue, not when we have them both outnumbered.”

  “Good. Then this shall be a quick battle, in which we can then return home as soon as you’re done.” She winked at him, actually winked, then she snuck back behind Bourbon, her next whispered words traveling to him, “It’s time to confront these two blackguards and take them down, and preferably before the rest of their crew arrive.”

  “Yes, time is of the essence,” Bourbon added. “Lead the way, Donnelly.”

  Indeed, he’d lead the way.

  Then he’d get Sophia off this ship and back home where she’d be safe.

  No more crouching behind crates.

  He rose and stormed toward his nemesis. “Lewiston!”

  The urge to kill Captain Lewiston thrummed with deadly menace through him.

  “Well, well.” Lewiston straightened from his charts, his coat flapping about his legs, his sword strapped to his side glinting in the moonlight. “Lord Donnelly, I’d so hoped to be gone from here before you discovered what had become of me.”

  “You’re a thief.”

  “I beg to differ. I’m the one who retrieved the sunken treasure and had every right to keep a share of it for myself. Unfortunately, your father had a different idea and wouldn’t entertain my request for that share. He snubbed his nose at me, stating that as both my employer and the owner of the Fortune Maria, that the fate of the treasure was his to decide. He intended for every blasted piece within the chest to be returned to its rightful owner, although he underestimated me. I snuck into the War Office and filched the chest before handing it over to my brother. While I’ve been away, Geoffrey has sold enough of it to fund our upcoming expedition. There are riches aplenty across the seas, which will soon be filling our hands.”

  “I’ll never let you or your brother set sail from this wharf.” He clenched his fist around his sword hilt.

  “Such a shame about your father and brother,” Lewiston sneered as he slid his sword from his belt and advanced. “Geoffrey enlightened me about their demise when I arrived in port. I asked him to keep an eye on them and Mr. Taylor.”

  “Did you or your brother have anything to do with their deaths?” He had to know for certain, if perhaps Geoffrey had done the dastardly deed since Captain Lewiston couldn’t have.

  “No, of course not, although you should ask Mr. Taylor that question. He most certainly knows a thing or two about their demise.” A smirk as he arched a brow. “He’s the one who wished them gone, not me. You have my condolences, by the way.”

  “Why would Taylor wish them gone?”

  “Whenever I returned from a voyage with cargo, Taylor handed me enough blunt to keep quiet. He of course, squandered some of the cargo from each shipment and fetched a pretty penny for it. He feared your father’s suspicions had been aroused recently, and wisely so. They had been.” Swinging his sword in a wide arc, Lewiston gritted his teeth. “Now it’s time for your demise.”

  “It is you who shall perish this night, not me.” Donnelly shoved his saber high and met Lewiston’s fierce blow.

  Behind him, Bourbon, Giovani, and Sawyer strode clear of the crates and formed a half circle at his back.

  Over his shoulder, Lewiston bellowed to his brother. “Care to join me?”

  “I’ve been thirsting for a fight.” Geoffrey pulled his sword free and bounded down from the helm.

  With another shout from Captain Lewiston, two more men swarmed onto the deck from below in the hold.

  Sawyer and Giovani swung their blades against the newcomers, while Bourbon squared up to Geoffrey.

  Captain Lewiston pushed forward against him, and Donnelly thrust one foot back and tried to hold his position, their blades crossed an inch from his nose.

  Steel clanged against steel, an almighty battle unfolding.

  Captain Lewiston twirled his blade as he heaved, and they fought hard and fast, the captain’s blows well-timed as he worked to take Donnelly down. Blocking each of Lewiston’s strikes, he battled hard with every ounce of determination and strength he had, while beside him Sawyer, Bourbon, and Giovani fought against their opponents.

  “James, please, you must be careful.” Sophia rushed forward, her disguise still in place, her cap hiding her hair, but her voice. It was unmistakable.

  “Get the lady!” Lewiston yelled at someone swinging over the side of the ship from the wharf.

  Bolider, damn it, and another man from the tavern too. Donnelly had to get to Sophia. He ducked Lewiston’s next blow then kicked the man’s leg out from under him. Lewiston went down, hit his head on a crate and blood gushed, his eyes rolling until the whites showed, death taking him fast.

  “Donnelly, behind you!” Sophia yelled.

  More men swarmed on board, too many.

  “I’ve got her.” Bourbon nabbed Sophia around the waist and hoisted her up onto the upper deck by the wheel.

  Donnelly barreled toward the new arrivals, Sawyer and Giovani hot on his heels.

  The acrid scent of blood filled the air as more men fell to their swords.

  “I didn’t sign up for this.” One man fled over the side of the ship, and a second joined him.

  Donnelly charged, but let them go.

  A scream pierced the night and he spun around.

  Geoffrey struck his ribs and searing pain ricocheted through him. He staggered back from the brutal blow and patted his front and sides. No blood spilled. Hell, he must have caught the flat of the man’s blade, and all due to Sophia’s scream. He blew his woman a kiss, who thankfully remained safe, Bourbon guarding the stairs to the upper deck and slashing at those who came near.

  Donnelly circled Geoffrey then ducked as he caught the glint of a flying dagger, a blade clearly meant for him. It whistled over his head and struck Geoffrey between the eyes. Geoffrey fell face-first into a crumpled heap against Captain Lewiston, while Bolider who’d tossed the dagger, swore under his breath.

  Bolider stuck his fingers between his lips and an ear-piercing whistle shrilled. The remaining crew all turned tail and leaped over the side of the ship, Bolider stumbling drunkenly after them.

  “Do we give chase?” Sawyer clasped the edge of the ship as he glanced back at him.

  “No, enough blood has been shed here this night. Let them go.” Bodies littered the deck, although thankfully not those of the men who’d fought at his side.

  He met Sophia’s gaze over Bourbon’s and held out one hand. She scrambled down from the helm and raced across. Opening his arms, he caught his vixen, barely planting one foot back in time to stop them both from tumbling to the ground. “My sweet Sophia, you seem rather eager to see me.”

  “Are you hurt?” She patted him all over, her hands darting everywhere. “There’s blood on your shirt.”

  “It’s not mine, although my ribs took a beating from one brutal blow. Your warnings during the battle saved my life, which means I have one very wise seer to thank.” He caught her face between his hands and with untold longing surging through him, kissed her long and hard. “From now on,” he murmured raggedly against her lips, “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  “Oh my, that sounds perfect to me.” She lifted onto her toes and inspected a scratch along his jaw then another on his neck. “You fought hard and so very well. You would have made an excellent hussar had you remained with your regiment.”

  “I hate to interrupt you both,” Bourbon said as he joined them. “But we need to speak to Mr. Taylor, and preferably before he catches wind of what’s happened here this night. I’ll leave Giovani on board to ensure
this vessel remains at berth since it needs to be searched for any of the missing items from within the chest. We’ll take my coach.”

  “Agreed.” Donnelly swept Sophia up and carried her to the side of the ship.

  It was time to deal with Taylor, who would rot in hell for what he’d done.

  Chapter 14

  The coach rocked, and hooves pounded the street as Sophia sat next to James on the squabs, Anteros and Sawyer across from them. Never had she witnessed such a battle, but even as it had unfolded around her in all its viciousness, she’d rather have been there than anywhere else. James held her loyalty, as each of these men in this coach now surely did.

  “How are you feeling?” James lifted her hand between both of his and gently kissed her chilled fingertips.

  “Grateful for everyone here and worried about Giovani since we’ve left him behind. I’m also exceedingly angry that Mr. Taylor has gotten away with murder until this day.” As they neared James’s warehouse, the skies lightened, the dawn sun breaching the horizon and the ever-present morning fog thankfully lifting.

  “Taylor’s retribution is mere minutes away, and I can assure you he’ll pay dearly for what he’s done.” He lifted her off the squab, settled her in his lap and wrapped his arms around her.

  “James, what are you doing?” She squeaked and wriggled to free herself. “Your actions are most improper,” she whispered.

  “You’re calling my actions improper?” He grumbled under his breath as he glanced at the men across from them, both of whom continued to watch for their arrival at the docks, paying them no attention at all. “You’re dressed in lad’s clothing, have just witnessed a battle with blood being shed, and are shivering. I will hold you so I can warm you up, and nothing you can say will halt me.”

  Well, he had a point with all those arguments, and indeed, his heat penetrated deep into her, warming her in the most delicious way and settling her chills, not that she intended to admit that. Instead, she let out a low growl and touched the grim line of his lips. “You must confront your man of affairs soon. Are you ready to do so?”

 

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