"Isn't in her slip," Camilla corrected.
"Right..." Dickie tilted his head her way. "Ain't that what I said?"
* * *
El spiedon Percy exerting an inordinate amount of energy whilst crawling around her foredeck in borrowed sailor's slops and scrubbing the deck with a stiff-bristled brush. He could have passed for one of her many crewmen...except for the exceptional curve of his ass when he seemed to think he needed to tense his muscles to take out an occasional stain of tar or leavings from the many sea birds hovering over the stern of the ship now that they were nearing Santa Maria.
She'd given up trying to keep Percy from causing trouble on the ship amongst her crew so instead, had put him under Obadiah's direction to do his part on the ship. Her original idea to make the man her captive love slave in her cabin whilst they sailed for Ceuta had turned out to be a spectacularly defective plan.
She'd used the farthest east island in the Azores, Santa Maria, for many years as a midway stopping point for provisions and water before heading off on the final leg of her journey through the narrow finger of water where the cold waters of the mighty Atlantic met the calmer, warmer waters of the Mediterranean. The cut between Gibraltar on the Spanish side and Ceuta on the African coast was less than twenty nautical miles.
The narrow, tumultuous passage reminded her of the clash between two very different lovers, one cold and aloof, the other warm and wildly passionate. There were bound to be violent waters until the two reconciled to each other, each giving up something to meet the other's needs. Her ears burned from realizing how much that passage resembled the one she and Percy were on. There was nothing on earth she would ever give up to earn the love of a man, so that was where the pretty allegory ended. Legend and reality were two very different things.
"Captain--."
A shout from above snapped her out of her thoughts. Percy was hanging from the rigging with Obadiah, pausing on a climb up to the crow's nest. Icy cold trickled through her chest and on down through her gut to her bare toes. The Duke of Chelmsford was going to fall to his death on her deck, and she'd be blamed. Not only that, but the ninny-hammered dolt had willingly chosen the means for his own demise.
* * *
Percy was dizzy with excitement.He hadn't had this much fun in years. Not since he and Daedalus used to play at being pirates back when they'd lived in Combe Down in a small manor house surrounded by massive oak trees they'd appropriated as their "ships."
He couldn't say what prompted him to shout out to Eleanor. Well, actually, he was proud of his prowess in shipboard responsibilities. Obadiah and the rest of the crew had taken him on as one of their own and trained him in duties aboard theLady Muirgen. He had to admit, being a love slave lounging about in silk trousers and banyan all day did get to be tedious after a while, especially when the fierce captain to whom he was enslaved hadn't been around in a day or two. A fellow tended to get bored in between visits from a sensuous Titian-haired gaoler.
Since he inhabited Eleanor's cabin, where the hell was she sleeping anyway? He allowed himself a glance at Obadiah clinging to the rigging above and cheering him on. He was a much younger, leaner man. Was it possible Eleanor preferred him? Dark thoughts raced through Percy's head only to be replaced by the spectre of his brother and heir being involved in the woman's under-handed doings. He needed to get back to why he'd landed in his current predicament. He couldn't stop investigating Eleanor's sprawling empire until he found a way to expose her and protect his family.
And then he couldn't resist looking down at his beautiful, long-legged nemesis. Which was a mistake. He slipped, poked one foot through the rigging netting, and ended swinging crazily upside down.
Obadiah nimbly came back down to his level, straightened him, and they continued their climb. Eventually, both of them made it to the crow's nest, and Percy forgot all of his earlier misgivings and uneasiness. He could embrace this life at sea and never return to the stifling halls of Lords at Westminster or his boring estate ledgers. He gave Obadiah a broad smile and took a deep breath of the soul-freeing, brisk salt air.
14
LATE JULY, 1826
ISLAND OF SANTA MARIA, AZORES
El snapped shut her spyglass and gave the order to shorten sail before gliding into the familiar anchorage on the east side of Santa Maria at the bay of San Lourenco. Anchoring theLady Muirgentended to be tricky on the tiny Portuguese island outpost. The sandy bottom held well, but the prevailing northeast winds made the holding a little rolly with shifting winds throughout the night.
Since the island was vital to trade from all directions, it was a stopping off point for ships to re-provision before heading toward or away from the Mediterranean. Which meant the mix of countries represented in the anchorages and amongst the ships' crews in island taverns could be challenging, if not volatile.
The volcanic island had extremely deep anchorages, so it was a challenge to take the ship in as close as possible to the cove-like beach. After dropping the anchor with all the chain from the stowage area below decks, she had two of her men row a shore boat to the beach with a long line from a woven rope bridle at the stern to tie off to the trunk of a sturdy tree. She finally set an anchor watch with two other crew members to make sure the heavy ship didn't drift, signaling the bottom was not holding and the anchor was dragging.
She motioned to Obadiah to join her at the stern while she watched closely for any sign of theLady Muirgendrifting.
"Where is he now?" She kept her eyes shaded from the sun while she studied the shoreline intently, her voice guarded.
"Who?" Obadiah tried, and failed, to imitate an innocent tone in his voice.
She threw her ship's master a warning look. "The arrogant, obnoxious bastard who's taken over my cabin."
"I put him in the galley under Cook's supervision. Surely he can't get into trouble there...set the ship on fire, fall out of the rigging, or cause you to slice him up into fish food."
El checked herself from replying with a sarcastic remark, because both she and Obadiah knew the only reason they were stuck with the troublesome duke was because she'd decided to teach the impossible man a lesson by spiriting him away on theLady Muirgen. That, she admitted, had been a huge mistake.
"I've been thinking...," she began.
Obadiah rolled his eyes. "That's what got us into our current situation."
"What if I make him believe I'm preparing him to be sold as a slave to a wealthy Arab woman, and then we make him think we're taking him to the slave market in Algiers, but once he's asleep the first night, we'll head the ship back to England?"
