In his anger, he slid down the rigging the last few feet, the same way he'd done as a lad when he was just learning the ropes as a lowly swab on the deck of a privateer, which was where he'd first caught sight of Eleanor Goodrum.
He'd wanted her, like all of the rest of the crew on the legendary Captain William Bolen's ship, but they knew going near the young woman, much less daring to touch her would mean a long, agonizing death in the hold of the ship. She'd belonged to the captain, and the old fool had left her theLady Muirgenwhen he died.
But she'd learned everything the old man could teach her on long nights in his cabin and even longer days on the top deck. She was a consummate sailor who didn't need heavy cannons on the lower decks. A light gun at the bow was all she used, mainly to message vessels to stand down or be boarded. Her savage, well-trained crew could board and take ships like no other he knew. He suspected the lack of cannons was deliberate on her part, because theLady Muirgenwas the fastest sailing ship in the Mediterranean, even giving the Royal Navy the slip more times than he could count.
* * *
El refusedto turn the wheel over to anyone else, even though she badly needed a break. They'd been chasing Rutherford's ship since early morning, and the sun was high over the yardarm now. She couldnotlet him give her the slip. The stakes were too high.
She was convinced she had him now, though. They were out in the open sea, way north of the Azores. The only move left to him to give her the slip would be to duck into the Bay of Biscayne and leave himself and his crew vulnerable to the French Navy. He and the frogs went way back. If they caught up to him, he'd never survive a French prison at his age.
She smiled, savoring Rutherford's demise. And then her second wicked smile was for Percy and what she'd do to him once she had him back aboard her ship. She'd chain him to her cabin bunk, swallow the key to the locks, and then torture him for days with unrequited sexual overtures.
Maybe later after she'd had her fun, she'd take him to Algiers, stake him out in the desert, and then pour honey all over his naked body to lure insects to ravage him. She'd go back to collect his stripped, bleached bones, and...she stopped fantasizing abruptly and turned her thoughts back to reality. Obadiah was right. She probably loved the bastard and would never actually do any of those things.
But once she'd rescued him, she was sorely tempted to have her bo'sun give him at least ten lashes at the mast, just to show her men she was prepared to punish the ninny hammer for risking all their lives.
* * *
When Rutherford headedtheCormorantup into the wind, the ship had heeled sharply, sending Percy sliding to the side of the hull with the heavy bag of flour he'd been hiding behind rolling hard toward him and pinning him to the bulkhead.
He lay there stunned and breathless, contemplating perhaps a later obituary inThe Times, if anyone ever discovered his true body: "The true, if late, Duke of Chelmsford was found crushed by a rolling sack of flour whilst captured by pirates." Ignominious, but no doubt what he probably deserved for all his many sins.
An hour or so later, he was so parched from his efforts to free himself, that he leveraged his last bit of strength to finally roll the huge flour sack to the side. He crawled over to where he estimated the water barrels would be stored and pried the top off of one of them with a knife he'd found sliding around the stowage deck. The ship's cook had probably dropped one and lost the blade in the dark of the hold.
He gathered water into his cupped hands, drinking deeply, and then poured more over his head. By the gods, it was as hot in the bowels of a ship as the inside of his Surrey estate greenhouse with the sun glaring down on a rare bright summer day. There were oranges that grew in lush abundance there. One day, he'd drag Eleanor there, peel one for her, and then watch the sweet juice trickle down her chin whilst he fed them to her and...what the hell was he thinking now? Had he lost his blasted mind? He'd set his own cock to twitching just daydreaming about the fierce she-cat who'd gotten both of them in their current mess. Could his life get any worse?
In the next moment he regretted that question because the entire ship suddenly snapped about, bobbed furiously like a cork and then a horrible sound of wood wrenching and squealing against wood assailed his ears. Great. He had no idea what the sounds meant, but he suspected the damned ship was about to sink with him in it, all the way to bottom of the briny depths of the Atlantic Ocean. Forget aboutThe Timesobituary. He'd never be found.
He'd just about resigned himself to his fate when something extraordinary happened. Percy Whitcombe, Duke of Chelmsford suddenly very much wanted to live. No, he was determined to live. He had so much of life yet to be lived. He had a family to care for...and a stubborn, extremely dangerous woman to love. He had to survive this adventure no matter what he had to do. And so, he picked his way through the destruction of the thrown-about galley stores toward the ladder toward the top deck and the life he wanted. No, the life he deserved.
18
MID-AUGUST, 1826
BERKLEY SQUARE, LONDON
Percy was trying to catch up on the last of his estate ledgers before he went out for a liberating ride in the familiar city air of Rotten Row, early in the morning. There was really nothing like the smell of Serpentine whilst riding his favorite gray to a lather through the path. He never encountered another soul at that unfashionable hour, which would suit him just fine on this particular day.
He had to see Aikers later and dreaded the questions. Questions he'd been dodging from everyone he knew, but Aikers especially, because he knew his man of business suspected the real reason he'd found himself in such a stew. All the gossip sheets as well asThe Timeswere abuzz with speculation on where he'd been all the time he'd been missing from London.
There was talk of a special investigation being launched on who exactly had kidnapped him from the very streets of Mayfair, but thus far, Percy had refused to discuss the matter with anyone. The scope of such a scandal should the truth ever be revealed was staggering. He longed with every nerve in his body to contact Eleanor, to tell her how much he owed her for his life...how much he loved her.
That last bit would never see the light of day because Percy Whitcombe, Duke of Chelmsford, was a coward. After deciding he wanted to live, to love the woman of his dreams, he'd been unable to tell her so.
He and Captain Goodrum had remained at arm's length for the entire rest of the journey back to the East India docks on theLady Muirgen. The remainder of their journey had remained cordial. She was the captain of the ship, he was her passenger. Nothing more. By tacit agreement, the two of them had since gone their own ways and mutually agreed never to speak of what had happened again.
He looked up, annoyed, at a light tap at the door to his office. "Come," he intoned brusquely. His butler, Simmons, poked his head through the door as if terrified to enter the cave of an angry bear. "There's...a lady at the door."
"Did you tell her I'm not receiving callers?"
"Yes, but..." He was rudely shoved aside, and there stood Eleanor, the morning light from the high hallway windows burnishing her glowing curls. "Percy Whitcombe, come out of your priest hole and face me. We have unfinished business."
She stood so close to him, he could breathe in the expensive scent that enveloped her when she was in the civilized world, not ruling the deck of her ship. If it weren't for Simmons, he'd have sunk to the floor and lifted her skirts, the better to suck in the fragrance of tangerines, green grass, and perhaps some essence of orchids.Right. Simmons.
"Simmons, I think you should take the rest of the day off...and give the rest of the staff a holiday as well. Captain Goodrum and I have some very private discussions to undertake and we do not want to be disturbed." He thought for a second and then interjected. "Is Miss Whitcombe expected back to the city today?"
Simmons took a moment to gather his thoughts after being taken by surprise with a free day off. "I believe she's not set to return until the end of the week."
