“That’s more like it.” Rafe inclined his head toward her. He slowly crossed his arms over his chest. “I want you to come with me, back to the docks, on Sunday night.”
Daphne’s stomach dropped into her slippers. “Whaaat?”
“You heard me.”
“Back to the docks? Why?”
“The spy ring. The Russians. They’ve returned. I have it on the best authority that they’ll be there. And they’re bringing something I need.”
Daphne pressed her hand to her throat. She’d gone to the docks with Rafe last year and had spent nearly a fortnight there with him, posing as his cabin boy. She’d worn stockings and breeches and a loose shirt and cap and—oh, God—she’d thought that was all long over. It had been an age ago, and she’d been stupid and naïve and that had all been before… Donald was killed.
“Even if I wanted to, Julian would never allow it.”
Rafe archedbothbrows this time. “As if Julian’s wishes have ever stopped you before.”
Daphne nearly growled. Rafe had a point. He always had a point. “I’m—I can’t.”
He casually crossed his booted feet at the ankles and regarded her down the length of his perfectly shaped nose. “Why can’t you?”
She lifted her chin. “I’m a respectable young lady. I’m about to become engaged to Lord Fitzwell. I cannot go gallivanting off in boy’s breeches and a cap.”
Rafe snorted. “Not so long ago, boy’s breeches and a cap didn’t bother you much. Lost your passion for adventure, have you? Besides, you can hardly become engaged when you’remarriedto me. Even Julian’s title can’t fix that little problem.”
Daphne turned her head away, refusing to answer. He was right about the engagement but those weren’t the words that had stung so badly, more than Daphne expected them to. A vision of Calliope Cauldwell spun through her brain. Calliope Cauldwell had spent time on a pirate ship of all places. She’d been forced to walk the plank. Had been rescued by a privateer. She’d worn boy’s breeches. Though a tricorn had been her headwear, not a cap. And Calliope Cauldwell didn’t even speak Russian. But still…
Fiddle. Why was Daphne thinking about Calliope Cauldwell? She was made-up. Purely imaginary. A heroine in a silly novel. This proposal of Rafe’s was far from imaginary. It was real and it was dangerous. Donald was dead, wasn’t he? Killed by the Frenchmen whom the Russians worked for. This was far from a game and she refused to be bullied into it. Hadn’t she spent the last year trying to forget about it? To forget about Rafe? To come to terms with the fact that she needed to stop longing for adventures and to save her country and focus on settling down to marriage and a family? “I cannot go with you. That’s all there is to it.”
Rafe walked around her in a slow circle while Daphne tried to ignore his nearness and calm her pounding heart. “I’m sorry, love, but you’re forcing me to play my trump.”
“Don’t call me love.” She tugged at the pearls around her throat and lifted her chin again. But she couldn’t help her curiosity. “What exactly do you think is your trump?”
“Seeking out Lord Fitzwell, of course. He intends to propose to you, does he not? I doubt that will happen if he discovers you’re dragging him into bigamy.” Rafe sauntered back over to the other side of the table, putting a safe distance between them again.
Daphne’s head snapped to the side to glare at him. Her temper had sparked. Anger welled in her chest. There was no stopping it now. She advanced, coming around the table toward him. “I am not dragging him into bigamy. I have every intention of seeing our marriage ended before I marry Lord Fitzwell, of course, and if you think I’m going to gallivant off with you down to the docks… I’m getting married and settling down. How dare you threaten me? How dare—”
Rafe backed up and splayed both hands in the air. “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Wait, you little spitfire.”
She didn’t stop. She continued to advance on him, her eyes boring holes into his chest. “Why should I wait?”
Rafe’s eyes turned to blue ice. “What if I told you I intend to use the Russians to hunt down the men who killed your brother?”
CHAPTER FIVE
“And I need your help,” Rafe finished.
He watched as Daphne’s wide gray eyes grew even wider. Her pink mouth formed an O as well. Her chest was heaving with her effort to breathe and— No, no. Better not to think about things like Daphne Swift’s heaving chest. Though the way she was tugging on that necklace kept drawing attention to her décolletage and that was hardly helping matters. Nevertheless, Rafe had told himself a hundred times on his way here this morning… he must treat Daphne like a sister. Sister. Sister. Sister.
Very well. A sister he was married to. Temporarily. But that was for a very good reason and—
“How?” Daphne’s single word jolted him from his thoughts.
Yes. Very good. Concentrate upon the mission. That’s exactly why he’d come. “They’re bringing information I need. Letters. And I must be there to intercept them.”
“And what do I have to do with it?” She was eyeing him carefully but he could tell she was intrigued. Of course she was intrigued. She might pretend to be more interested in engagement parties and marriages, but Daphne Swift was the kind of female who wouldn’t pass up a challenge. He’d learned that about her last spring during their mission. And this would be the greatest challenge of them all. It was like dangling a bit of salmon in front of a cat. That’s why he’d come.
“For one reason, you must be there for consistency’s sake. The last time they saw me, you were with me, as my cabin boy. They only know me as the captain of theTrue Love.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You can’t tell them your ‘cabin boy’ is gone? Fell overboard perhaps?”
