Beautiful Tempest
Page 26
“Won’t need to know,” Danny said. “If they’ve gone to either a restaurant or a hotel, her four-man escort will be waiting outside and will be easy to spot. Jeremy took his chaise, that’s also easy to spot.”
Jason started giving orders. “We need more men for the search in case she doesn’t walk in the door soon. George, send a man to every Malory household in town to collect all available footmen. I need to attend to something, but won’t be long. I imagine she’ll be back by the time I return.”
“What the devil, Jason, where—?”
Anthony didn’t finish his question because his eldest brother was already out the door. Georgina had started crying again on Edward’s shoulder. Anthony sighed and dropped down on the sofa next to his wife.
“Are we sure we’ve searched everywhere for a note Jack might have left to explain where she went?” Edward asked Georgina gently.
“Her room, mine, the parlor. The maids are still searching the rest of the house, though Jack would have left the note in a place where I’d surely see it.”
“Who was manning the door today?” Danny suddenly asked.
“That would be me,” Artie said, standing just inside the parlor door.
“So you got left behind this trip?”
The two old salts who’d sailed with James during his ten-year absence from England usually drew straws to see which one would accompany James if he sailed without the rest of his family. But Artie was shaking his head.
“’E left us both behind with the womenfolk this trip,” Artie grumbled. “We were to guard them with our lives—fat lot o’ good we did, eh.”
“Nonsense,” Danny told the ex-pirate. “Amy has assured us there’s no danger yet, and for the time being we’re going to assume there won’t be. But did Jack receive anything today out of the ordinary?”
“A single rose, same as the one she got yesterday. She took them to her room.”
“I saw the two roses on her vanity when I looked earlier,” Anthony remarked, “lying side by side.”
“Were there notes with them?”
Anthony leapt up from the sofa and headed for the parlor door. “We only looked for notes that Jack might have written to George. Bloody hell, didn’t even think to look for any others written to her.”
Chapter Sixteen
JACQUELINE HAD NOTICED THE last time Bastard abducted her how circumspect he was about his body. She’d thought at the time that he must be badly scarred and wanted to hide it from her. Why else would a pirate not want to get undressed in front of her? Now, he was doing it again, getting into bed with his clothes on, removing only his belt and boots. The last time he’d never changed clothes in the room, either. When he’d needed fresh pants and a shirt, he’d leave the room with clean clothing. To do what, change out on the deck? That must have gotten a few snickers from his crew. If he was scarred, she’d gloat. No doubt he deserved every wound he’d gotten. But she had a feeling now that his bedding down in a less than comfortable manner was more for her benefit than his. Did he really not want to offend her sensibilities? That smacked so much of being a gentleman that she couldn’t credit it, yet she had seen how he’d behaved at Lady Spencer’s ball.
He’d cut a fine figure in his black tailed coat and had known exactly what to do and say that night. And his speech was refined, not fresh out of the gutter. He’d even managed to excite her with his air of mystery. She wondered if he could have been reared gently by English parents. Was that why he’d managed to deceive her that night? And whom was she kidding? Her own father had raised enough havoc on the seas to be labeled a pirate. So it was definitely possible that Bastard had been a gentleman prior to becoming a lying kidnapper.
It didn’t change her worse-than-bad opinion of him; she just found it amusing that he’d want to spare her the sight of his nakedness. She ought to do the opposite herself, at least remove her blouse, skirt, and petticoat. She enjoyed the idea of shocking him, but only briefly. He probably wouldn’t be shocked and would see it as an invitation, and she certainly didn’t want to extend one. She recalled how he’d looked at her on the last voyage after she’d taken off her wilted ball gown and donned one of his white shirts for the sake of comfort. The sensual expression in his turquoise eyes had so unnerved her that she’d punched him in the jaw. Well, she’d tried, but he was quick and had caught her hand, laughing. No, she wasn’t going to do anything he might interpret as an invitation. She was and would remain fully clothed, right down to her boots. She would have slept in her spencer jacket, too, if she hadn’t already draped it over the back of a chair.
After he turned off the lantern, she asked, “D’you have scars?”
“Not many, why?”
A lot of moonlight was in the room, so she looked in his direction, waiting for him to sit back up to talk, but he didn’t.
“No reason.” She lay down on her back to ignore him.
“I can guess.”
“No, you can’t.”
“You wonder why I don’t sleep naked when that is my habit.”
Damned mind reader. “Since I don’t know your habits or care to know them, your guess is wrong. But why don’t you move me in with your other hostages? The hold would be preferable to your cabin.”
“And miss these scintillating conversations with you?”
“Is that where you put them? In the hold?”
He didn’t answer, said instead, “I take it you aren’t blushing?”
“I have a good imagination. I frequently imagine you walking about naked. It’s amusing.” After a silent moment, she wondered aloud, “Are you blushing?”
“No,” he said in an amused tone. “Just surprised that we have the same imagination.”
She drew in her breath and her cheeks got hot. Bloody hell. She turned over loudly to face the bulkhead, but her remaining dagger was strapped to her thigh, so she turned again.
“Sweet dreams, Jack.” A definite chuckle.
“They will be, full of gore and you dangling from a hangman’s noose and—”
“Spare me the details, please.”
The room suddenly blackened when clouds got in the way of the moon, but she wasn’t going to let the darkness lull her to sleep. She had to do something tonight before the ship sailed farther away from England. She had to find Jeremy, commandeer the ship while most of the crew were sleeping. Finish off Bastard . . .
Jason started giving orders. “We need more men for the search in case she doesn’t walk in the door soon. George, send a man to every Malory household in town to collect all available footmen. I need to attend to something, but won’t be long. I imagine she’ll be back by the time I return.”
“What the devil, Jason, where—?”
Anthony didn’t finish his question because his eldest brother was already out the door. Georgina had started crying again on Edward’s shoulder. Anthony sighed and dropped down on the sofa next to his wife.
“Are we sure we’ve searched everywhere for a note Jack might have left to explain where she went?” Edward asked Georgina gently.
“Her room, mine, the parlor. The maids are still searching the rest of the house, though Jack would have left the note in a place where I’d surely see it.”
“Who was manning the door today?” Danny suddenly asked.
“That would be me,” Artie said, standing just inside the parlor door.
“So you got left behind this trip?”
The two old salts who’d sailed with James during his ten-year absence from England usually drew straws to see which one would accompany James if he sailed without the rest of his family. But Artie was shaking his head.
“’E left us both behind with the womenfolk this trip,” Artie grumbled. “We were to guard them with our lives—fat lot o’ good we did, eh.”
“Nonsense,” Danny told the ex-pirate. “Amy has assured us there’s no danger yet, and for the time being we’re going to assume there won’t be. But did Jack receive anything today out of the ordinary?”
“A single rose, same as the one she got yesterday. She took them to her room.”
“I saw the two roses on her vanity when I looked earlier,” Anthony remarked, “lying side by side.”
“Were there notes with them?”
Anthony leapt up from the sofa and headed for the parlor door. “We only looked for notes that Jack might have written to George. Bloody hell, didn’t even think to look for any others written to her.”
Chapter Sixteen
JACQUELINE HAD NOTICED THE last time Bastard abducted her how circumspect he was about his body. She’d thought at the time that he must be badly scarred and wanted to hide it from her. Why else would a pirate not want to get undressed in front of her? Now, he was doing it again, getting into bed with his clothes on, removing only his belt and boots. The last time he’d never changed clothes in the room, either. When he’d needed fresh pants and a shirt, he’d leave the room with clean clothing. To do what, change out on the deck? That must have gotten a few snickers from his crew. If he was scarred, she’d gloat. No doubt he deserved every wound he’d gotten. But she had a feeling now that his bedding down in a less than comfortable manner was more for her benefit than his. Did he really not want to offend her sensibilities? That smacked so much of being a gentleman that she couldn’t credit it, yet she had seen how he’d behaved at Lady Spencer’s ball.
He’d cut a fine figure in his black tailed coat and had known exactly what to do and say that night. And his speech was refined, not fresh out of the gutter. He’d even managed to excite her with his air of mystery. She wondered if he could have been reared gently by English parents. Was that why he’d managed to deceive her that night? And whom was she kidding? Her own father had raised enough havoc on the seas to be labeled a pirate. So it was definitely possible that Bastard had been a gentleman prior to becoming a lying kidnapper.
It didn’t change her worse-than-bad opinion of him; she just found it amusing that he’d want to spare her the sight of his nakedness. She ought to do the opposite herself, at least remove her blouse, skirt, and petticoat. She enjoyed the idea of shocking him, but only briefly. He probably wouldn’t be shocked and would see it as an invitation, and she certainly didn’t want to extend one. She recalled how he’d looked at her on the last voyage after she’d taken off her wilted ball gown and donned one of his white shirts for the sake of comfort. The sensual expression in his turquoise eyes had so unnerved her that she’d punched him in the jaw. Well, she’d tried, but he was quick and had caught her hand, laughing. No, she wasn’t going to do anything he might interpret as an invitation. She was and would remain fully clothed, right down to her boots. She would have slept in her spencer jacket, too, if she hadn’t already draped it over the back of a chair.
After he turned off the lantern, she asked, “D’you have scars?”
“Not many, why?”
A lot of moonlight was in the room, so she looked in his direction, waiting for him to sit back up to talk, but he didn’t.
“No reason.” She lay down on her back to ignore him.
“I can guess.”
“No, you can’t.”
“You wonder why I don’t sleep naked when that is my habit.”
Damned mind reader. “Since I don’t know your habits or care to know them, your guess is wrong. But why don’t you move me in with your other hostages? The hold would be preferable to your cabin.”
“And miss these scintillating conversations with you?”
“Is that where you put them? In the hold?”
He didn’t answer, said instead, “I take it you aren’t blushing?”
“I have a good imagination. I frequently imagine you walking about naked. It’s amusing.” After a silent moment, she wondered aloud, “Are you blushing?”
“No,” he said in an amused tone. “Just surprised that we have the same imagination.”
She drew in her breath and her cheeks got hot. Bloody hell. She turned over loudly to face the bulkhead, but her remaining dagger was strapped to her thigh, so she turned again.
“Sweet dreams, Jack.” A definite chuckle.
“They will be, full of gore and you dangling from a hangman’s noose and—”
“Spare me the details, please.”
The room suddenly blackened when clouds got in the way of the moon, but she wasn’t going to let the darkness lull her to sleep. She had to do something tonight before the ship sailed farther away from England. She had to find Jeremy, commandeer the ship while most of the crew were sleeping. Finish off Bastard . . .
