One Night of Passion (24 page)

And of course, every time he was in port, Captain Taft had given her free run of the ship.

She inhaled deeply, hoping to catch a faint hint of the cargoes she remembered. Sweet rum. Thick spices. The rich, warm odor of cognac wafting up from the illegal casks Captain Taft had brought from France in the hidden hold.

Georgie grinned and wondered if Colin had found that compartment yet, or any of the other cubbyholes and secret cabinets for which only a smuggler would have a use.

Padding silently down the narrow shadowed corridor, she paused before Captain Danvers’s cabin, especially when she heard raised voices from within.

“Are you sure this is the safest place on the ship?”

It was Mr. Pymm speaking.

Instead of making her presence known, Georgie paused, leaning closer to hear every word, eavesdropping shamelessly.

Truly, how many times had she chided Kit for the exact same sin? She did her best to ignore the fact that what she was doing was wrong.

This, she decided, was a necessary evil. Mr. Pymm’s meeting on the beach with Colin hadn’t been some chance encounter as Colin insisted, and now she was going to gain the truth of the matter. So instead of knocking, she eased back into the shadows, craning her neck so she could peer through the slightly open door.

“I assure you, Mr. Pymm, your papers are more than safe here. It is where I keep all my valuables,” Colin was saying, as he stood before the open panel near a bookcase that lined one wall.

So the
Sybaris
had given up that secret to her new captain. She wondered how Colin had found it, because Captain Taft had sworn it was undetectable. He’d used it to keep duplicate logbooks, cash, and jewels, as well as a spare pistol tucked away in case of an emergency.

“No one on this ship knows about this hiding spot,” Colin said, “and I doubt they could figure out how to open it.” He turned to Mr. Pymm and held out his hand.

Georgie stepped a little farther back into passageway.
Would you care to wager on that, Captain
Danvers?

Mr. Pymm, in his usual friendly fashion, grumbled and complained. “I daresay this appears safe, Captain. Though with
that
woman aboard there is no telling what treachery will confront us.”

“I doubt our nefarious Mrs. Bridwick would be able to find this compartment,” Colin told him confidently.

“Yes, if you think so, but don’t be swayed by her pleasant face. Such chits use their wiles to coax astray even the staunchest hearts.”

At this, Georgie smirked. So the curmudgeonly Mr. Pymm thought she had a pleasant face and possessed wiles. She rather liked the idea of herself being thought of as a dangerous siren.

However, Colin’s adamant reply kept Mr. Pymm’s wry praise from going to her head. “I promise you, sir, I am not susceptible to
her
charms.”

I beg to differ!
she restrained herself from protesting. His kiss had said something to the contrary in a thousand ways that words could never convey. Though, in truth, she had no desire for his attentions, indeed not. But still, whether she liked it or not, it stung that he would make such a claim.

Yet before she could become entirely indignant, Mr. Pymm’s next remarks stopped her cold.

“Must I remind you, Captain,” he was saying, “that the fate of Nelson, the fate of England resides in these papers. We must have them to London posthaste if we are to finish our work.”

The fate of Nelson? Of England?
Georgie’s mouth went dry. So the
Sybaris
still possessed her fair share of secrets.

“Sir, I have every intention of seeing us to London without delay,” Colin was saying.

London?
Oh, that would never do. It would take months to get to England . . . months spent with Colin would only spell disaster for her resolve, but also for the chances of her keeping their identities a secret. She wasn’t worried about herself, but Kit could become a problem, especially if she fancied herself in love . . .

Yet those weren’t even her greatest fears. The more pressing problem suddenly weighing upon her shoulders was what the devil kind of havey-cavey business were Mr. Pymm and Colin about?

She certainly had a right to know, since now she, Kit, and Chloe were inextricably bound up in this nefarious pair’s intrigue.

Her curiosity piqued, her imagination starting to wonder the worst, Georgie knew she couldn’t stop until she learned what could possibly be in those papers that was of such dire consequence.

And there would be only one way to find out.

“Well, if you give your word these are safe,” Pymm was saying, handing over a neatly tied packet of papers, watching peevishly as they were quickly stowed in the compartment.

Colin replaced the covering, which slid into place and once secured looked just like the rest of the paneling in the room. “There. Should we be boarded or inspected, no one will find them. Unless they start taking the ship apart piece by piece. Then I suggest you make short work of them.”

As Pymm grumbled over that plan, Georgie edged her way back into her own cabin and closed the door behind her.

Kit started to bound up from her bunk, but Georgie put a hasty finger to her lips and silenced her sister.

Her ear pressed to the door, she listened as first Pymm ambled down the corridor, his mutterings and grumblings marking each of his passing steps. Then to her delight, she heard the ship’s master call down the hatchway for Colin.

His door opened and closed, and his firm, distinct footfalls echoed down the corridor and then up the rungs of the ladder to the quarterdeck.

Georgie could have pinched herself at gaining such a good opportunity so quickly. But her elation quickly deflated when she snuck back down the hallway to Colin’s door and found it locked.

For now her plans remained out of reach.

And so it seemed were his secrets. At least for the time being.

Georgie wasn’t easily put off. An hour or so later, she went on deck attempting to seek out Colin, albeit under the excuse that she needed to discuss his brother’s untoward attentions to Kit, as well as her desire to be returned to Naples immediately before they sailed too far west.

And at the same time, she’d put on her best manners and attempt to mend the mess she’d made of their earlier meeting. Especially since the only way to get back into his cabin was to convince him of her trustworthiness.

One thing worried her though. She found herself looking forward to finding Colin.

Captain Danvers,
she muttered to herself. She must think of him as Captain Danvers, evil guardian, kidnapper, and despoiler of innocent women.

Even those thoughts did little to dispel her desire to stand in his shadow again, to feel his touch. When he’d reached out and almost touched her hair, she hadn’t been able to breathe. She’d only turned from his touch out of fear.

Fear that once his fingers did find their way into the tangles of her hair, she’d be the one trapped by another one of his irresistible kisses.

Oh, she was being ridiculous. She certainly didn’t harbor any feelings for the man. Certainly not Captain Danvers.

That blasted Colin was another matter.

Still, she didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed when she discovered that he was nowhere to be seen on deck. Since she knew he wasn’t in his cabin, having already checked the lock again, she beat a straight course to the ship’s master’s side.

“Mr. Livett,” she said. “I must have a word with the captain. Do you know where he is?”

“I can’t rightly say,” the man mumbled, glancing left and right, anywhere but directly at her.

“You can’t or you won’t?” Georgie persisted. She couldn’t imagine any ship’s master not knowing exactly where his captain was at any given time.

“Now that’s a good question, madame,” he said. “One you’ll have to ask the cap’n when you find him.” He bobbed his cap to her and muttered a hasty “Good day to ye,” before he took off and up into the rigging.

Flummoxed but not deterred, Georgie pressed on, searching the ship stem to stern. But none of the crew could tell her where their captain was hiding, nor were they all that willing to help her find him. Even the carpenter remained locked in his workshop, hammering and cursing away at some task, refusing to answer her persistent knocks at his door.

“Bother,” she finally muttered and gave up. At least for the time being.

Colin Danvers couldn’t elude her forever.

Chapter 10

C
olin had successfully avoided Georgie for the bulk of the day. That she was seeking him out boded well for his cause . . . or he was kidding himself about her sudden attentions and she planned on tossing him overboard in a well-executed mutiny.

Knowing her, he’d wager on the latter.

But to his dismay, when he finally did venture on deck, ready to do battle with the lady, it wasn’t Georgie who sought his counsel, but Mr. Pymm.

“Captain Danvers!” the indignant man called out, scurrying across the deck. “Captain, a word with you.”

If only it was just a mere word,
Colin thought. “Yes, Mr. Pymm?”

“I must protest. I want to lodge a most fervent protest.”

Colin groaned inwardly. “What is it?”

“I’ll have you know all this will be going into my full report.” He paused as if this in itself should be enough to prod Colin into action. “My full report, mind you,” he said, waggling his finger under Colin’s nose.

“Yes, sir. I heard you the first time. What can I do for you?”

“What can you do? What can you do, you say? I would think it is obvious.”

“And that is?”

“Why, that alleged woman,” he said, with a jerk of his head toward the stern. “ ’Tis a crime to allow her to stroll about thusly,” he complained.

Pymm had the right of it there, it was a crime. The sight of Georgie was arresting, enough to steal his speech, rob his senses.

She stood at the stern railing, her face gazing toward the eastern horizon. Her hair hung from a disheveled and windblown chignon, curls and tendrils dancing in the breeze. She wore a simple white gown that left her arms bare, exposing her neck and a fair amount of her bosom. At her feet sat a small lantern, offering a circle of light against the twilight, casting an ethereal glow about her.

But it was her expression that caught Colin’s heart. Her wistful gaze stared off in the direction of the Italian coastline, toward Naples. It was as if he was tearing out her heart with each league they traveled westward, away from Italy.

Her face had worn the same expression when she’d slept in his arms that long-ago night. And it tugged at his heart now as it had then.

Tell me your secrets,
he’d whispered into her ear as she’d slumbered.
Let me be your guardian.

And as he had wanted so fervently to safeguard her then, she now watched over their child with the same passion.

It was obvious in the way she held Chloe so protectively in her arms. He found it a touching tableau—Georgie in her Valkyrian pose, in contrast to Chloe’s blissful cooing and antics. Looking at his daughter almost made Colin forget the danger swirling around them, the French hunting them, the terrible separation between him and her mother.

And yet, he could stand there all night watching Chloe’s chubby hands batting at Georgie’s hair. It brought a smile to his lips when his determined child finally found a fistful to wrap her fingers around and gave the strands a playful tug.

Georgie laughed and freed her imprisoned locks with a gentle motion, then tucked the tendril behind her ears. When another one fell free in the breeze, Chloe squealed with delight, her hand once again waving erratically as she tried to catch hold of it.

“Do you hear me, Captain Danvers?” Pymm was saying. “Why are you allowing her the liberty of this ship? And with a lantern, no less.”

“She isn’t to be allowed any light?”

Pymm shook his head. “She’s probably waiting to signal her compatriots. Mark my words, the entire French navy will be breathing down our necks by first light. Meanwhile, her dwarf is most likely in my cabin searching for . . .” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Searching for certain matters.”

Colin nodded in agreement, if only to humor the man.

Just then Chloe started to howl, an ear-piercing squall that made a nor’easter sound like a concerto.

“Aha!” Pymm said, pointing at the baby. “She’s probably using that child to signal them as well. Such a noise could summon the dead.” Pymm covered his ears and grimaced. Then in one lull of wails, his face brightened. “I have something that would silence that caterwauling, good and well. Just say the word.”

Colin’s hands whipped out and caught Pymm by his poorly tied and crumpled cravat, wrenching him upward until his boots dangled in the air. “You will not!”

“Aaaaah,” the man gasped.

“Do you hear me?” Colin said, tugging the man up a little higher. “Harm that child and the only signal the French will be receiving is your body being shot from the nearest cannon I can load it into.”

Mr. Pymm managed to nod, and a second or two later, Colin released him, dropping him on the deck with a thump.

The flustered agent immediately began straightening his collar and jacket. “Most irregular, Captain Danvers. Mark my words, this will all be going in my report.”

“What report is that?” Georgie asked. She’d come up to the two men so softly that neither of them noticed her.

Pymm shot Colin an “I-told-you” sort of affronted look and then made his excuses, scurrying off, muttering something about “matters to review.”

Georgie stepped out of his way. “An odd sort of gentleman, isn’t he?”

“He grows on the acquaintance,” Colin replied, wary of saying anything before her. But he did offer one caution. “If he offers you, your sister, or Chloe anything to eat or drink—don’t touch it.”

“Comforting thought,” she said, casting one last glance in Pymm’s direction.

“I, um—” she started to say.

“I wanted to—” he also began.

They both stumbled to a stop.