Captivating the Captain (Scandals and Spies Book 6)

by Leighann Dobbs

  If she wanted to find Papa, she didn’t have a choice but to trust these people. Even so, she couldn’t help but wonder if it would be Madame Estreux who next opened the door, or if it would be an enemy soldier.

  Madame Estreux’s hidden storage room smelled of dust and stale air. The compartment, no more than two feet wide, ran the length of the room. Bottles of liquor and other smuggled goods lined the far end, packed in crates for easy travel. Gray and Miss Vale nestled hip-to-hip near the door, squashed together without space for him to stretch his legs unless he stood. It was bound to be a long afternoon.

  He waited to the count of fifty before he used the tinderbox he’d been given to light a candle. Once the glow settled across them, he laid the candle atop the nearest crate. He tried not to think about Miss Vale—no, he might as well think of her as Charlie now, given their intimate accommodations. Eradicating her from his mind proved impossible when she was pressed so near to him.

  They met each other’s gazes. The memory of their kiss flared to life. He looked away and cleared his throat. “I don’t,” he said into the silence, his voice a bit hoarse.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Squander the opportunity for adventure.” Her words from earlier, in the dinghy, haunted him. It was impossible that he had changed that much. If he had, it was for the better.

  “No?” Charlie lifted her chin, her voice a bit breathless. “Tell me something you’ve done, then. A place you’ve been.”

  “I went to the Caribbean as a midshipman. We were chasing a small, fast cutter who had been dogging our ships. The Ghost, we called her, because she’d come up swift and silent in fog or early morning and hammer off a few gun rounds before we’d even see her to retaliate.”

  To his surprise, Charlie looked fascinated. She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them, leaning forward. “Were you ever under attack by this ghost?”

  “She wasn’t a real ghost, but a wood and metal ship. One of several the French were employing at the time, all identical and all made with the same design. Come in silently, shoot, and get out before the ship under attack could retaliate. The ship I was assigned to at the time, the Frontrunner, wasn’t one of those under attack. We were assigned the capture or destruction of these ghost ships attacking us, along with a few others. We managed to corner most of them, but one of the enemy captains broke off and sailed fast for the Americas. The Frontrunner was one of our faster vessels at the time, and my captain thought we could catch them.”

  “Did you?” She laid her chin on her knee, still engrossed.

  He’d had women fawn over him for his pedigree and his rank, but she seemed genuinely interested in the story. He grinned as he remembered the time. He’d been eighteen, still young and a bit brash, quick to run into danger.

  “We did,” he told her. “It took weeks of thinking we’d lost sight of them for good and then, on a calm day, finding them again on the horizon. When we reached the islands, we had to contend with other hazards—local authorities who didn’t care for our interference and who might have been bribed by the French, pirates, unfamiliar waters with reefs and rocks we might run aground on. Finally, we cornered them between us and a reef, no place to turn, and came up upon them swift and silent like they’d done with our ships.”

  “What happened?”

  “We boarded in the dead of night. The moon was full, giving us enough light that we didn’t have to light a lamp. I was young then and supposed to stay aboard the ship to keep us ready to sail.” He smirked. “It drove me mad to have to stay behind while the other officers got all the fun. But if I hadn’t been on deck, we might have lost a lot of men. Amid the gunshots and clang of steel, everybody shouting… it was chaos. I was trying to keep an eye on the seamen still aboard, and monitor the fighting as well, when I noticed one of the lifeboats being lowered to sea. The captain was on board! I gave command to the other midshipman waiting with me and jumped off the ship, landing on the lifeboat to corner the captain. When faced with the mouth of my pistol, he decided to obey and ordered his crew to surrender to us. We came back heroes. I was punished along the way home for abandoning my post—given grunt work, mostly—but soon after I was promoted to mate, so I must have impressed someone with my act of bravery.”

  He’d told the story to women before. Most sighed or exclaimed over how he could have been killed! Charlie lifted an eyebrow. “You said this took place in the Caribbean?”

  He nodded.

  “Did you get to see any of the cities there?”

  “We stopped for enough food and fresh water to last us until we returned home, but I had to stay on the ship.”

  She shook her head. “Then that’s war. That’s not adventure.”

  Caught off guard, he laughed. Had she just discounted the single most reckless act of bravery on his part as not adventurous? He didn’t understand this woman at all. But for once, she wasn’t accusing, so he played along and asked, “What constitutes adventure then, Miss Vale?”

  “Charlie.” She made a face. “Stop calling me that. We aren’t in a ballroom. My sister is married to your brother. We’re family.”

  Perhaps, in the loosest sense, they were. But he had never met her before in his life, and the thoughts conjured by her close proximity were not at all the familial kind. He licked his lips and repeated, “What constitutes adventure, Charlie?”

  She beamed, her smile a bit smug to have him listen to her for once. Tucking her legs to one side, she leaned closer to him. “Adventure is seeing new places! You can’t claim to have been to the Caribbean Isles, not truly, when you didn’t step foot off the ship.”

  “We’re locked in a smuggler’s secret cellar. Is that what you consider adventure?”

  Her expression fell. “It wasn’t precisely what I envisioned when I came along—”

  “Then why didn’t you argue to go along with your mother?” He would have considered it daft, perhaps even foolhardy, but he had been surprised when she’d so willingly decided to hide away. The Charlie Vale with whom he was acquainted was far too brazen to hide.

  Charlie pulled her knees to her chest once more. “We aren’t here so I might see new cities and seek adventure. We’re here to find Papa. If Mama thinks I might hinder that… ” She made a face. “I should have studied my French harder. I’m not much of the studying type.”

  “Neither am I. Most of what I’ve learned, I’ve learned by doing, not by reading.”

  A smile pulled at her lips as she teased, “Apparently, not by seeing, either, if you’re always confined to a ship.”

  His attention dropped to the curve of her mouth. Once more, the memory of kissing her surged. He licked his lips and leaned forward. They were utterly alone. Unlike the last time, when someone might have happened upon them, for the moment they had hours yet to while away in each other’s company. That time would be much more pleasant if she were using it to kiss him instead of berate him. She’d come to life in his arms, further proving that she was no demure lady.

  He shouldn’t give in to his desire for her. He had more honor in him than to use her to slake his lust simply because he found her beautiful—at least, he did whenever she wasn’t hounding him. Right now, with her lust for adventure still glimmering in her eyes and her lips slightly parted, common sense fled, and he leaned closer. Would her lips feel as soft as they looked?

  He almost found out.

  9

  With Anthony Graylocke about to kiss her, Charlie’s heart, already stirred from his tale of derring-do, skipped a beat. She licked her lips, trying to diminish the sudden tingle that rose in them. She didn’t want it to interfere with the sensation of his mouth on hers.

  In her mind, she was on a ship in the middle of the Caribbean, her pulse pounding from the new sights and smells and possibilities. She could only too easily imagine Anthony’s tale ending differently, perhaps trapping them on a deserted island instead of being cooped up in this musty cellar. If they were stranded, with no hope of rescue, w
ould she give in to the passion she’d found in his arms?

  She leaned closer, hoping to meet him partway, but he stopped an inch from her mouth. He cleared his throat and pulled away. “Forgive me. It’s… hot in here.” He stood, stretching out his legs. As his shadow fell over her, Charlie recalled that they weren’t trapped on a deserted island. They weren’t even on a ship, let alone one bound for exotic new locations. They were stuffed into this cramped hideaway with no chance of adventure.

  What was it about him that caused her to lose her senses? She’d been courted before—more than ever now that her sister had married into the Graylocke family. She’d always been able to resist them. A well-formed man didn’t turn her head… challenge did. Perhaps that was what Anthony encapsulated. Kissing him was daring. It felt exotic. It made her body come alive and her senses more acute.

  Clearly, he was able to resist her, unlike all those young fops constantly at her heels, yammering on about how her beauty gave them heart palpitations. What codswallop. Anthony hadn’t tried to seduce her with flowery words or vows of undying admiration. Except for their one kiss, Anthony hadn’t tried to seduce her at all.

  He didn’t now, either. In fact, he didn’t so much as glance at her as he stretched. Had she been mistaken in thinking he wanted to kiss her? Perhaps he’d merely been shifting position and her eager response had scandalized him. She felt a fool.

  Needing something to do to distract her from the scalding heat in her cheeks, she tugged the letter to Madame Renault out of her bodice. Since their contact in France had fled and they would be unable to deliver the letter, there could be no harm in her opening it to see what Lady Graylocke had wished to say. She slid her thumbnail beneath the seal, breaking it as she opened the envelope.

  Angling the paper to catch more of the light as Anthony stretched out his arms, Charlie frowned. This letter wasn’t written in English. It wasn’t even written in French—she might have been able to read it, or at least enough of it to decipher the meaning of the letter. No, the jumble of script on the page didn’t resemble any language that she knew. Her heart froze with the realization that it could be written in code.

  No. Impossible. Lady Graylocke didn’t even know about the British spy network, and Morgan had been adamant not to tell his mother too much about their true purpose in France. Perhaps someone had switched letters and replaced Lady Graylocke's original with this one.

  Considering the letter had been inside her bodice for the better part of their journey, she doubted it could have happened then. Maybe before, when she thought it was locked in the trunk. But she wondered who… and why.

  It seemed very unlikely, but perhaps this was some kind of shorthand that only duchesses or those connected to powerful families knew. Not for the first time since her dear friend had married, Charlie wished that Lucy were close by. She would have loved Lucy’s advice right about now.

  Perhaps she didn’t have to wait to talk to Lucy. Anthony was also a Graylocke. He would know whether or not his mother was more involved in the spy network than she appeared. Charlie folded the letter and stood, dusting off her rump as she did. “Anthony—”

  Her breath caught as he turned. The space in the hidden room was so narrow that his arm brushed against her as he did. Her breath hitched at their close proximity. Kiss me.

  “Yes, Charlie?”

  Accepting that she may have said that out loud, she licked her lips and tilted her face up just in case his answer had been an acquiescence.

  Wait. What am I doing? She swallowed hard and stepped back, as much as the room allowed. Not far, indeed. She opened her mouth to ask about his mother, but footsteps caught her attention. “Do you hear something?”

  He raised his finger to his lips to indicate for her to remain silent. She did, straining her ears.

  Yes, definitely footsteps. Anthony heard them, too. He pushed up his shirtsleeves, his muscles bunching as if he intended to jump to violence if the wrong person opened the door.

  The door swung open to reveal Madame Estreux, Mama, and a younger, thin man. Charlie quickly shoved the letter into her bodice again. “Did you find something?”

  Mama nodded. “A man matching your father’s description left on a ship bound for Portugal two days ago. If we have any hope of catching him, we must hurry.”

  10

  Charlie’s ears still rang from the news as she, Anthony, and Mama snuck out of the seaside town under the cover of twilight. Mama held Charlie’s hand, Charlie held Anthony’s, and both Mama and Anthony carried one of the valises. He insisted on leading, of course. They didn’t dare light a lantern until they were away from the town.

  Fortunately, the smugglers lived next to a cliff trail that led down to the water. The trail was hidden beneath overgrowth, but once Anthony found it, they soon whisked out of sight. In a port town like this one, comprised mostly of fishermen, anyone up after dark drew suspicion.

  They walked for ten long, silent minutes before Anthony stopped to light the lantern. In those ten minutes, Charlie had more than enough time to brood, but none of her thoughts brought her comfort. Papa had pivotal information for Britain. He should be on his way home, not farther from it. She couldn’t figure out why Papa would go to Portugal. Charlie had the deepest faith in Mama’s abilities as a spy—after all, she had hidden her involvement in the spy network, not to mention the secret behind Papa’s purported death, from her daughters for years. But what if, this time, Mama was wrong? Another man might have boarded a ship to Portugal, and Papa could still be in that town—or another.

  The only thing Charlie wanted was to find Papa. The longer he remained in enemy territory, the more danger he was in.

  As Anthony stopped to light the lantern, Mama brushed Charlie’s elbow. “You’ve been quiet.”

  “I’ve been thinking.”

  “Whatever it is, it looks to be troubling you.”

  Charlie frowned at Mama. The light flared to life and cast a glow over Mama’s face. Somehow, it seemed to magnify the worry lines etched around her mouth and forehead. “Are we doing the right thing?” Charlie asked. “Are you certain that the man heading to Portugal is Papa?”

  “I can’t be. Not until we catch the ship and discover for ourselves.”

  “What if it isn’t? We’ll waste time sailing in the wrong direction.”

  Mama rubbed her temple. “Nothing has gone according to plan thus far. We’re lucky Captain Graylocke is still with us. He could have left us on the beach, and we would be stranded in enemy territory. Let’s take advantage of him while we can.”

  “And if we’re wrong?”

  Mama’s lips thinned as she frowned. “Then we start again. I promise you, Charlie, we will not give up.”

  Charlie hadn’t for a second considered giving up to be an option. She was going to find Papa no matter what. She only hoped they wouldn’t be too late.

  The moment they returned to the ship with Anthony, Lieutenant Stills appeared at the railing. He cornered Anthony as the captain helped Mama out of the dinghy and back onto the ship. As Anthony accepted the valises from Mama and set them next to him, he said, “I hope you haven’t moved our belongings yet, Lieutenant. We’ll be playing host to Mrs. Vale and her daughter a bit longer.”

  Lieutenant Stills hefted the valises, one in each hand, but didn’t move. “I thought you were to escort them to town for Miss Vale’s wedding.”

  Apparently, Anthony hadn’t disclosed their true mission. He either distrusted his second-in-command, or he had simply deemed it unimportant, considering he had been ordered to bring them to port regardless.

  Mama cut in smoothly. “The person with whom we were arranged to stay has left town.”

  “We’re heading to Portugal,” Anthony added, his voice tight as he lifted Charlie out of the dinghy. Her knees wobbled as her toes touched the deck, but she steadied herself against him. Once she caught her balance, he released her and turned to his second-in-command. “Weigh anchor at once. If we cut out to the ope
n ocean and avoid the coast, we should be able to make good enough time to catch the Portuguese ship, even in a whale like this.”

  Lieutenant Stills would not be appeased by an order and followed at Anthony’s heels, dogging him for more information as Anthony shouted orders to set sail. At this hour, most of the crew had to be roused from their beds. As those on deck scrambled to awaken their cohorts, Lieutenant Stills asked more detailed questions, prodding Anthony for information regarding their destination and why they were so eager to catch this Portugal-bound ship. Charlie wondered whether he would he confess what he knew about Papa.

  She never found out. Mama, who didn’t seem as concerned with the lieutenant’s curiosity as Charlie was, led the way to the captain’s quarters. Charlie followed. She set down the valise the moment they were inside. Mama, who had also taken the lit lantern, hung it from a hook beside the bed.

  Charlie sat on the foot of the bed. “Assuming it is Papa on that ship, why would he have turned to Portugal?”

  Mama joined her. She took Charlie’s hand in hers. Charlie, needing comfort just as much as Mama, squeezed back.

  “I wish I knew, Charlie. It could be that he was frightened to stay here too long. Perhaps the Portuguese ship was his only option out of France, and he was desperate. Perhaps he hopes to transfer to a ship bound for England once he gets there.”

  Too much relied on perhaps.

  Mama clutched her daughter’s hand and added, “We’ll soon find out.”

  Charlie nodded. When she took a deep breath, trying to calm her whirlpool of thoughts, the letter to Madame Renault shifted against her breast. With the new problem in their quest to find Papa, she’d forgotten about the letter.

  She fished it out of her bodice now. “I hope you don’t mind, Mama, but I opened Lady Graylocke’s letter to Madame Renault.” Her cheeks flushed with shame. Mama had taught her never to open another person’s mail, but she’d been curious.