The Pirate's Desire (7 page)

Stooping, she slipped inside, and swiped at spider webs drooping from the ceiling. A soft, filmy one caressed her face, and she shuddered, although she knew it had to be an old web, for it wasn’t sticky. Not to say there weren’t new ones, and new spiders lurking nearby.

Lucinda shivered again and silently minced four steps to the right inside the secret passageway. No need to announce her presence. Hopefully, if the men heard her, they’d think she was a mouse scuttling within the walls. Lucinda swallowed a gurgle of revulsion and prayed no rodents ran over her toes.

Her fingers skimmed over the wall. And then again…and yet again, searching. It had been years since she’d done this.

Here. At last, she found the recessed lever. A gentle push, and the panel slid—thankfully noiselessly—inside, and to the right. Before her, a floor-to-ceiling tapestry concealed her hiding place from the men in the room. Dust motes tickled her nose, and she hastily pinched it shut so she wouldn’t sneeze.

Now she could hear clearly, and she remained still and listened.

“It’s worse’n you think, guvnor,” a raspy voice said. “The Brits say they’ll seize
Tradewind
if y’don’ comply. Yer to be there Friday.”

Heavy boots paced the floor. “The Admiral said that? In so many words?”

“I’ve a note. Here.”

The crisp snap of a letter opened, and silence ensued. “He breaks his word.” Riel sounded grim.

“What right have we to deny ’im? As you say, if y’don’ want waves, don’ sail in a storm.”

“I’m aware of our predicament. But I cannot leave here yet. Documents must be signed before I can return.”

“Kin you handle the gel?”

“I can handle her.” Again, the words sounded grim. “But I won’t leave until all is settled.”

“Legal, or otherwise?”

Riel did not answer.

“Last thing yer want is to raise suspicion, Cap’n.”

“As I know well.”

Suspicion? Lucinda drew a soft, startled breath, and stopped pinching her nose in order to breathe better. Why would the Royal Navy possibly become suspicious of Riel and his crew?

Her heart pumped faster, and dangerous prickles of excitement danced over her skin. Riel must be running—or hiding—from something. Just as she’d thought. But what could it be? And how could she find out? She leaned closer to the old tapestry in order to hear better.

“Is it worth it, guvnor?”

“What do they intend, Haskins? You must have heard a rumor.”

“All I know is the Admiral means business. To keep yer squeaky clean rep and boat, you’ve got to come.”

“When will this end?” Frustration edged the deep voice.

“Until Bonny’s banished, Cap’n.”

Heavy boots strode in the direction of the desk. A quill scratched on paper. “Take this, Haskins. Tell him I’ll be there on Monday.”

“Aye, Cap’n.”

“And Haskins, tell the crew I’ve not forgotten my promise.”

“We don’ need extra coin for sailin’ the ship, Cap’n. Brits’ infernal henpecking or no. We’re your crew.”

“You deserve it. I’ll have money coming in soon. At the end of this week, in fact. I’ll bring it when I return to the ship.”

Money coming in soon?
At the end of
this
week? Lucinda softly gasped. On Friday Mr. Chase would pay Ravensbrook’s monthly stipend into Montclair’s hand!

“Very well, Cap’n. Thank you. I’ll be off.”

Lucinda
peeked around the end of the tapestry and saw the
unkempt
scoundrel exit. Her mission had proven quite fruitful. Now, she needed only to escape from her hiding place without detection.

Her cheek dusted the tapestry as she drew back, and suddenly her nose itched most alarmingly. She must have stirred up dust. Lucinda grabbed for her nose again, unmindful that her hand would cause a noticeable ripple in the tapestry.

“Ah
chuh!
” Stifled though she’d tried to make it, the sneeze exploded like shattering china.

Lucinda scrambled to find the closing lever. Haste made her fingers clumsy. As a child, she could have closed it in two seconds flat.

Now two seconds stretched to three, then five…and with each one she heard boots clomp closer.

Her fingers closed on the latch. Finally! She jerked it down just as Riel swept aside the tapestry. Horrified, she stared back at him. His dark, shadowed face looked more like a pirate than ever before, and his black brows winged upward in surprised displeasure.

“Lucinda!” he thundered as the panel slid shut. Breaking free of her frozen horror, Lucinda bolted down the short hall, and then out the hole by the bookcase. She whipped a glance over her shoulder. No Riel. Shaking, she shoved the bookcase back, and it clicked into place just as her guardian’s large frame filled the doorway.

“Lucinda,” he said again, but with no more pleasure. His black brows looked ominous.

Trembling, she gripped the bookcase behind her. How should she play this? Pretend it never happened? That he’d seen a ghost who looked like her within the wall?

“Riel.”

Flustered, she realized she’d called him by his first name. Attempting to adopt a modicum of dignity, she pulled out the hanky she’d tucked inside her sleeve. Glancing at her father’s coffin, she dabbed her eyes. “Have you come to pay respects to Father?” She didn’t have to fake the tremor in her voice.

Riel stepped into the room. “You have cobwebs in your hair, Lady Lucinda.” His soft voice sounded dangerous.

“Oh!” Her fingers fluttered to her hair.

“Perhaps you will allow me.” He stalked closer, and she shrank back.

“No. I…I will thank you to keep your distance, Mr. Montclair.”

“You are frightened. Perhaps because you heard words that weren’t meant for your ears?”

Lucinda lifted her chin and swallowed, fighting for courage. “Have you things to hide, Mr. Montclair?”

“I have private business to conduct. Business that is none of your concern.”

“But you are very much my concern. I must understand what sort of a man you are, if you’re to take over Ravensbrook.” Her mind worked quickly, trying to decide which bits of information to provoke from Montclair first.

“You can trust me.”

“Oh? Because you say so? I am not a feather-brained ninny. Tell me what your business was about.” Her insides felt shaky, like a poorly set pudding, but outwardly, she struggled to project a visage of cool calm.

Here was her chance to discover the full truth about Riel Montclair. …If he would tell her. And once she found out, how could she best use that knowledge to evict him from her home? Lucinda wished she had more time to plot her strategies.

A long moment ticked by. “Tell me what you heard.”

“I heard it all,” she said rashly. “I know the Royal Navy wants you to return to your ship. If you don’t, they’ll seize it and likely throw you in the brig.” Of course, she’d embellished the last part, but she was fishing for information now. It was part of her hastily improvised plan of attack.

His fingers twitched at his sides. Because he wanted to throttle her? Or because she’d backed him into a corner and now he’d have to fight—or bluff—his way out?

“The Navy wants me to run a mission.”

“Why?”

He paced closer, but she refused to cringe back. “It’s top secret. I cannot give you details.”

“Pooh,” she said. “You want me to trust you. Then you must trust me first.”

“I cannot say more.”

Lucinda changed tactics. “Why, then, would the Navy be suspicious of you?”

Shadows darkened his eyes. “The Brits have no reason to distrust me. I have helped them for the past two years.”

“Truly?” One brow arched. “I thought you owned a merchant ship. How could a merchant ship be of use to the English Navy?”

“Again, I would rather not say. It could be dangerous for you.”

“Dangerous for
me?
” Surprise quickly devolved into suspicion. He was trying to scare her and throw her off the scent. Temper sparked. “I am not a fool. You have a dark secret, Mr. Montclair. I know it. And when I discover what it is, I’ll personally invite Admiral Smythe here so he can cart you off to the Tower of London!”

Unknown emotions flickered across his face. To her surprise, he chuckled. “You have quite the imagination, Lucy.”

Lucinda wanted to stamp her foot. She had learned exactly nothing about his nefarious doings! She snapped, “Who was that man, and why was he here?”

Laugh lines crinkled from the corners of his eyes. “You heard it all, did you?”

“Answer my questions!” She glared.

The smile eased back into a straight line. “Haskins is the first mate on my ship, the
Tradewind.
”

“A merchant ship.”

“Yes. A privateer. Which means I own my ship, but in time of war we are authorized to attack enemy ships. The Royal Navy has commissioned me to work on their behalf.”

“Oh.” Lucinda reassessed the facts. The Royal Navy had an assignment for him. A secret mission, perhaps? A thought flew to mind. Her father had recently been on a secret spying mission, or so she’d guessed. “Was…was my father on your ship when he died?”

“Yes. We were under cannon fire. A cannon ball hit the stern railing, and your father was too close. We made him as comfortable as possible during his last minutes.”

“I see.” She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. Now things were beginning to make sense. Riel and her father had met on the
Tradewind
and become friends. But how had Father grown to trust him so implicitly? They hadn’t known each other long, had they? “How long was Father on your ship?”

“Seven months.”

A good amount of time. And her father had never known a stranger. Seven months confined on a ship could probably make even enemies bosom buddies. But none of this explained what Riel was currently trying to hide from the English government. Truly, he didn’t want them to become suspicious of him—she’d heard him admit as much to his man, Haskins. What was he hiding?

Then the other suspicious bit of information she’d overheard returned to mind. What about the money he’d claimed to be receiving soon? At the end of
this
week—coincidentally, when Mr. Chase would deliver Ravensbrook’s monthly monies directly into Montclair’s hands.

The idea that Riel might be planning to pilfer Ravensbrook’s money for his own personal use made her see red. In fact, she opened her mouth to confront him on that subject, too, but then she bit her tongue. He would tell her nothing. Especially if he did plan to steal from Ravensbrook.

No. She shouldn’t tip him off to her suspicions. Far better to catch him in the act—if, indeed, that was his nefarious plan.

So, she’d learn how to keep the ledgers. Hopefully she’d be able to prove his unsavory deed, should that be his scurrilous intent, and bring the evidence to Mr. Chase later. A good plan.

Unfortunately, she had little faith in her ability to prove mismanagement of funds, and even less faith in Mr. Chase’s willingness to expend any effort to help her. As well, Riel would be leaving soon. He may not even write in the ledgers until he returned. What, then, would happen to the stipend Mr. Chase planned to pay him on Friday? What a confused mess
th
is could become! No. The best plan would be to get rid of Riel now, before he signed the papers on Friday. Before he could touch a pence of Ravensbrook’s money. Before it was too late.

Riel’s big body appeared relaxed, but it belied the guarded look in his eyes.

Lucinda decided to pretend satisfaction with his answers. Clearly, he would reveal no deep, dark secrets to her. However, now she trusted him even less than before.

In the next few days, she would continue to ferret out facts and expose them to the bright light of day. Perhaps then Riel would be revealed as the rat he probably was, and scuttle off to the darkest cave…a dungeon, perhaps…and leave Ravensbrook in peace. No need to tip him off to her plan, however.

“Very well,” she said. “I will take your leave.”

His fingers gripped her arm as she brushed by, which forced her to stop very close to him. Her heart beat faster when she looked up at him. It was late, almost time for supper, and a dark beard shadowed his jaw. He was a powerful man. And dangerous. She again felt this rush of truth to her very marrow. Certainly not a man to trifle with. Much as he appeared civil now, if she pushed him too far, what would he do?

“Yes, Mr. Montclair?”

He released her arm. “Do not spy on me again, Lucy.”

“I will thank you to call me Lady Lucinda. And you may be sure I have no intention of being found in such a position again, Mr. Montclair. If you will excuse me.”

His faint chuckle further stoked her irritation. Drat the man!

All at once, she realized the full implications of the Navy ordering Riel to return to his ship. He would leave soon. Perhaps he would never return.

Her quick hope at this happy thought swiftly faded.

His mission would not last for two years. She still must find a way to get him out of Ravensbrook for good. A man of his questionable character could not gain control of her money or her ancestral home. Not even for one day.

Only two full days remained until he signed the papers on Friday morning. It was unlikely that she would discover any of his secrets in that short amount of time. However, during the time in the secret passage, she’d concocted the outline of a plan to oust him from her home—permanently. It may not be the most prudent scheme. But she believed it would convince Riel to leave Ravensbrook willingly. And better yet, at a fast gallop.

* * * * *

Riel watched Lucy sweep away, her shoulders straight and regal. The faintest hint of irritation tilted her chin. She was as beautiful as a yellow rose, and just as prickly.

Something else had bothered her just now, at the end of their conversation; something she’d bitten back and kept hidden. He couldn’t imagine what it could be, and the puzzle disturbed him.