The smile he offered in return was brilliant before he turned and began walking again. “I’m glad to hear it. Now I guess my next question would be, how adept are you at acting?”
Chapter Eleven
Triana stared in disbelief as she stood in front of the full-length mirror in the small, upstairs bedroom of a (dare she even think it)brothel; while blushing nearly as scarlet as the silk gown she wore — that was, if one could even dare call it that.
The shimmering, red material hugged every curve of her body, leaving very little to the imagination of what charms lay beneath. And if the bodice were to plunge any lower — well, needless to say, modesty wouldn’t be an issue. But she suspected that was the point.
Notexactlythe kind of assistance she’d had in mind.
“He can’t be serious!” she whispered to her scandalous reflection, still astonished that it was truly her image shining back at her. She touched her heavily rouged cheeks and the fake, heart shaped, mole near her mouth. Her long dark hair was devoid of pins, left to hang down her back in a tousled wave, giving the impression that she’d just come from a romp in the sheets with her latest lover.
He’s insane if he thinks I’m stepping one foot outside that door dressed like this!
She was prepared to put an end to this debacle and stomp her way out of the illicit bordello, amazed that she was even here to begin with, when she turned and caught sight of Gabriel lounging in the doorway; a lazy grin on his face and a wicked glint in those silver eyes. The plump, middle-aged woman, who’d created the…artistryTriana now wore, stood beside him with a smug expression.
“You were right, Millicent,” the duke murmured, boldly raking his smoldering gaze up and down Triana’s frame, causing her cheeks to burn even hotter, if such a thing were possible. “She looks perfect.”
The madame shot him a sly glance out of the corner of her eye, obviously pleased, and at the same time, seeming to share a mutual secret. “I always deliver, Your Grace, but then I suppose you already knew that.”
Triana couldn’t hold back a shocked gasp at the blatant implication in that statement, to which the woman just laughed saucily and sauntered out the door. Momentarily forgetting her scandalous appearance, Triana crossed her arms in annoyance. “I can see you’re a regular visitor here.”
Gabriel simply raised a dark brow and pushed away from the doorframe. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous?” he purred, his eyes alight with a mischievous gleam as he came closer.
Triana tossed her head and tried to quell the sudden pounding of her heart. “Jealous?” She scoffed. “Don’t be absurd.”
A feral smile began to grow across Gabriel’s face, the hungry look in his eyes fairly crackling with desire. “I wouldn’t mind, you know.” His voice had suddenly taken on that husky quality she detested and adored all at once — right before he reached out and caught a strand of her hair. Rubbing it between his fingers, he whispered next to her ear, “In fact, I might find myself quite flattered that you feel so possessive toward me.”
Triana’s breathing quickened as he released her hair and then began to trace a feather light path across her exposed collarbone, then slowly around the edge of her bodice, barely grazing the tops of her breasts.
With a deep breath, he slowly drew back. “This will have to wait, I’m afraid.” And then added on a scandalous murmur, “Although hopefully, not for long.”
***
Travell cursed himself for a fool, for how else to explain his current predicament? He’d been so preoccupied by concern over his sister, worrying that Triana might do something rash, that he’d failed to listen to his instincts warning him that the missive he’d received was nothing more than a well baited trap.
Now, as he sat gagged and bound to a chair in the captain’s cabin on a ship called theEvening Swan, he should have known that Logan, another seasoned agent, had more sense than to get captured so easily. But he’d made the mistake of being lured in when he was vulnerable, and now, it just might be the end of him.
One thing was for certain, if he ever had a chance to get his hands on that blasted turncoat Bow Street Runner, he would remind him just what happened to men who switched sides to the highest bidder on opposing hands of the Crown! But in order to track the man down, first, he had to get off this blasted ship.
He’d already made a thorough investigation of his makeshift cell — a bolted down bunk, a desk with not even a letter opener to speak of on top, and a locked trunk — all proving that his choices of escape were slim. Normally, he didn’t leave the house without some sort of weapon, at the very least, but Triana had distracted him, so he’d forgotten anything that might be of use. Already the thick, hemp ropes that were already causing his hands to lose feeling. Not to mention the fact that his head ached something terrible, having been bludgeoned from behind when he’d arrived. He had no way of knowing how much time had elapsed before he woke and found himself in this wretched cabin, alone and tied up.
But he could either continue to sit and wait for the captain to find out what else their traitor had revealed — or keep trying to get free.
With a renewed fervor, Travell rocked his bolted chair once again, but it held fast. He continued to work on his bindings, but only succeeded in rubbing his wrists even more raw; the slick trickle of blood starting to run down his fingers. But he’d be damned if he’d give up. He had never been one to concede defeat lightly, and he wasn’t about to start now.
Suddenly, he paused, the sound that met his ears causing him to cringe.
Just where the hell was that God-awful singing coming from?
***
Triana had warned Gabriel before they’d left Millicent’s establishment that she was no opera singer, but she soon found out that he wasn’t one either, as the bawdy tune they’d chosen to sing was loud enough to wake the dead and sadly off key. Appearing to be a drunken sailor and his lady love they sashayed down the wooden planks next to a vessel named theEvening Swan.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” she whispered anxiously, when the duke appeared to pause and take a large gulp of rum, which was nothing more than a jug of tea, spiked with a hint of molasses to give one’s breath the sweet scent of the drink.
With his arm draped around her, he appeared to nuzzle her neck. “As long as you remember everything I told you, it will. Now just relax and enjoy the performance.” He pulled back and gave her such a silly, wayward half grin that she had to swallow a nervous giggle. And then he burst into song again.
“’Ey! Whot’s goin’ on down there?”
