“I do not think you are horrible or selfish, and I do not believe that there is anything wrong with wanting a little frivolity in your life when there has been none. Your father would have never allowed you to go if he did not think so as well. And, your uncle knew the dangers of carrying passengers on his ship but offered to transport you and your sisters anyway. Had Captain Goodard objected, your uncle would have acquiesced to his decision. It was just by chance that the French decided to sink the cutter while you were on it. It was not by chance that your uncle’s ship was in the area because we were to exchange messages the night you had arrived, or the following night. They may have waited off the Martinique coast for the exchange of information before you were delivered home, or they may have taken you to Dominica and returned, therefore, the cutter would have still been near Martinique whether you had been on board or not. Further, there is no guarantee that the crew would have used the ship’s boat to escape because every man on deck would have done their best to save the ship or keep it from falling into enemy hands, depending on what it carried. I have known captains to burn their ship while standing on the deck just to protect secrets.”
Tempest drew back at his firm answer and wondered if she and her sisters being there had made a difference or not. It did ease some of her guilt, but not completely because they had used the ship’s boat to escape, which denied the crew the opportunity, even if they knew the risks of what they did.
Only one concern remained and she had to know if it had been real or imagined. Her face heated just thinking about how bold she had been. “Did I really tell you to kiss me?”
This time he laughed loudly, which did nothing to help her humiliation.
“Yes, you did even though you were determined not to like it.”
“I assume that I would remember if you had.”
Rhys leaned forward until their eyes were merely inches apart. “I assure you, Tempest, that had I kissed you, you would remember and when I do kiss you, you will never forget.”
He had said something similar the night before. “I recall unpleasant experiences as easily as pleasant ones.”
It was a challenge, and no man should be so confident in his abilities, and maybe she wanted to challenge him.
“One day you will learn the truth.”
She wanted to know now, but it was for the best. Now was not the time no matter how much she longed to be in his arms, be held and kissed. An emptiness had lived in her, and grew only stronger when she realized that she had never met one person who she could love or marry even, and that was why attending her uncle’s house party had been so important. She had also accepted her fate. That is, until she had met Rhys.
She wanted him to call on her. She wanted him to court her.
And she wanted to be rescued from this island.
Fifteen
Tempest was delightful in her uncertain, blushing state. It was the opposite of the woman he had encountered when he had first arrived, and he liked them both.
She hid herself and he wasn’t certain why, except she had taken on the role of mother and mistress of the house far too young, robbed of what other misses should have enjoyed, even in Dominica, if she could not be in London. Her father was a diplomat and she should have been standing at the edge of a ballroom nervous and hoping to be asked to dance, not worried that they would run out of wine.
That was the very reason he was going to court her in the manner she deserved. He would call on her, bring her flowers, walk with her in gardens and then, when he was certain and secure that she also deeply cared for him, then he would kiss her, but not before.
He would not rush what he had determined was fate.
“How does one join the Home Office?” she asked out of curiosity.
“Why? Do you now want to become a spy.” He tried not to chuckle because no doubt Tempest would take offense. Then again, there were some women who were better at their job than he was. It takes more to be an effective spy than brute strength and the ability to kill and women can navigate nuances and get someone to lower their guard far easier than a man.
“I am curious.”
“I was recruited before I left Oxford. Me and a few friends. We came together and formed a group that became known as The Devils of Dalston. We had a house in a not very reputable part of London and allowed the worst of the rumors to be spread around, most of them being that we were rakes, rogues, derelicts, and sometimes in league with the devil and practiced witchcraft.”
Her blue eyes grew wide with fear as she scooted away.
“It was all a ruse, Tempest. Do I strike you as a witch?”
She pursed her lips and studied him. “I am not so certain. What exactly does a witch look like?”
“I have no idea.”
“That is what you did? You were rakes in London? For what purpose?”
“Intelligence gathering. But I also spent a good deal of time in France gathering information.”
“It all sounds very exciting, so why did you retire?”
“You may resent me when you find out.”
