“This is her room.”
Christian’s gaze raked the space. Minimalistic in design, the pretty blue walls and white tapestries immediately reminded him of a clear day at sea. Exotic shells lined a shelf on the wall and several books lay in a heap next to a rocking chair. Her desk drawers had been pulled open as well as the doors of the big wardrobe in one corner. He ignored them and crossed to the bed, pushing aside gauzy mosquito netting.
Leaning in, he ran a hand over the smooth cotton and frowned when a faint whiff of lemon drifted up.Could it be?He sniffed again, but the scent was gone. The maid who had been crying downstairs earlier stood to one side of him and he turned to her. “When did you last see Miss Warstein?”
Her red-rimmed eyes blinked and she furrowed her brow. “I came in to ask if she needed help getting ready for bed and she said no. It must have been right around nine o’clock, the sun was setting.”
Right about the time Red had visited him.
Christian turned toward Warstein. “Your niece was kidnapped last night.”
The man’s brows lifted. “How do you know?”
“Her bed was not slept in.”
Christian scanned the room once more and the hairs on his neck lifted. No sign of a struggle. Striding to the balcony, he looked over. No clear way up—or down. A tiny ledge ran to a tree a good dozen feet away, but there was no way one could carry an incapacitated body that far.
His eyes narrowed. It was almost as if she had gone willingly. But what—or who—could have convinced her to go? Was Red part of this? Did the lemon scent belong to her? Or had he imagined it?
He twisted at the cuff of his jacket. Too much of a coincidence she’d been at his property around the same time Miss Warstein went missing. And he didn’t believe in coincidences. His gut twisted. It could only mean one thing.
She sailed in league with Thorne.
He swore and clenched his hand into a fist.
With a pivot, he strode back inside and brushed past Warstein. “I’ve seen all that I need to. Thorne has a half-day lead on us. I’m going straight to the docks and we will sail immediately.”
Unease thrummed through him as he descended the stairs and exited the house. What part did Red play in all this? And why was Warstein hiding information from him? As he climbed onto the horse, his headache returned in full force.
He pushed the poor beast past its limits and by the time he reached the docks a quarter hour later, foam frothed from the grey’s mouth and dark sweat lined its flanks. Christian vaulted to the ground and jogged up the gangplank to theFalcon.
Thank God she was nearly ready to sail. Men hung in the rigging unfurling the main sails and dock hands scurried up and down the gangplank with crates of goods.
“What the hell is going on?” Isaac strode down from the forecastle. “Don’t tell me this has to do with that fire-haired vixen you’ve had us up all night over.”
“Yes. No.” Christian raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Miss Warstein has been kidnapped by Captain Thorne.”
“My God. The bastard has finally decided to show his face.” Isaac cocked his head. “Why would this have anything to do with Red?”
Christian ground his teeth together. “It doesn’t look like Miss Warstein was taken against her will. And Red was at my place at the same time she went missing. It cannot be coincidence.”
“You think your lady pirate has something to do with Miss Warstein’s kidnapping?”
“Don’t call her a lady. If she’s working with Thorne, she belongs in the noose.”
Isaac blinked but his eyes didn’t meet Christian’s. “That’s a rather abrupt change of heart.”
Christian spun to face the river. “It’s one thing to pirate on her own. But to align herself with a man who’s killed hundreds of innocents...”
“I wouldn’t jump to conclusions just yet.” Isaac touched Christian’s elbow.
He jerked his arm away and strode to the helm, blinking away the vision of red hair spread across his sheets beneath him. His toes curled in his boots. He shouldn’t have taken her to his cabin. An ache pressed against his chest. That particular lapse of judgment might cost Miss Warstein her life if his hunch was correct.
His hand curled into a fist around one spoke of the wheel. He should have taken the whole lot prisoner and let the law determine their fates. Instead, he’d let his lust control him.
Isaac came to a stop next to him. “How soon do we sail?”
“Now.”
