Chance the Winds of Fortune (38 page)

Dante smiled in understanding. “Pity you didn't accept,” he said.

Alastair stared at his captain through the lantern-lit gloom. “Did you?” he asked bluntly.

Dante laughed. “I deserved that. But in answer to your question, no. Not out of any special courtesy to her husband, though, for I suspect he was behind her sudden generosity,” Dante explained. “I just didn't happen to care for her looks. I'll get out here,” he said, tapping on the roof.

Halfway out of the carriage, he added with a grin, “Cheer up, Alastair. If our luck holds, we'll have the
Sea Dragon
's sails trimmed and filled by the morn, day after tomorrow.”

“Aye, Captain,” Alastair responded with a wide, pleased grin, his good spirits restored once again as he thought of sailing the
Sea Dragon
away from the confining atmosphere of Charles Town. Then, with a contented sigh, he settled down for the rest of the ride to his lodgings.

When Dante entered his silent house, only one candle still flickered in the wall sconces, its feeble light barely reaching the first step of the stairs as he made his way up them. He had untied his stock, the lacy-edged scarf dangling loosely in front of his leather waistcoat. Yawning widely, he entered his bedchamber, eyeing with appreciation the good-sized fire crackling in the hearth, thinking Houston Kirby was indeed a man to be treasured, for the little steward thought of everything.

Dante glanced over at his bed, ready to slip beneath the neatly folded-back covers. Then he stared in unblinking incredulity at the dark head on his pillow, and at the bare shoulders just visible over the covers of his bed.

A slow anger began to burn inside of him as he walked closer to the bed and gazed down on his uninvited guest. He breathed the pervasive fumes of liquor and stale perfume, saw the pile of discarded cards strewn across the coverlet and carpet, and the crumbs of food caught in the rumpled sheets. A look of distaste crossed his face as he realized his bedchamber resembled a bawdy house.

“Helene, get up. I have had enough of your games,” Dante said harshly to the woman in his bed.

But Helene did not respond. With a sigh of impatience, Dante bent over her and started to shake her shoulder, but when he heard her light snores, he drew back, preferring to leave her undisturbed in the arms of Morpheus. He glanced over at the half-empty crystal goblet and the open bottle of Madeira on the table beside the bed. A tray carrying several plates of picked-over food was set aside on another table, while in a chair near the door was a disorderly pile of discarded clothing.

Dante glanced at the cozy fire, then at the naked woman sleeping soundly in his bed, then at the tray of cold food, and a smile of cruel amusement curved his lips as he speculated on Helene's attempt at seduction. The only problem was that the guest of honor had never arrived for her private midnight soiree. And in her boredom, she had consumed almost a whole bottle of Madeira and amused herself with his playing cards, before the wine and warmth of the fire had lulled her into a comfortable stupor.

With a half-muffled curse on his lips, Dante turned his back on the bed and Helene Jordane. A second later, the bedchamber door had closed softly but with restrained violence on his departing figure.

Dante made his way unhurriedly down the stairs he had climbed just moments before, but instead of going out the front door, he turned and made his way into the kitchen in the back of the house.

“I thought you might be around,” Dante commented to the little steward sitting at the big, well-scrubbed block table in the center of the kitchen. Kirby was holding a mug of steaming coffee cupped in his hands.

The steward glanced up at his captain, a look of approval evident on his weathered face. “Aye, I was hopin' ye'd be down right fast. Didn't want yer coffee to cool,” he said matter-of-factly as he got up and handed the captain his mug, which had already been filled to the brim with the hot brew.

“You are very certain of me, Kirby,” Dante retorted dryly as he accepted the proffered mug, not certain he cared to be quite so predictable.

Kirby sniffed. “No, 'twas mostly wishful thinking on my part,” he admitted. “Figured if I went ahead and poured it, well, ye might just show up. Reckon I've never had a contest 'tween my coffee and a shameless woman before.”

“Speaking of which,” Dante began, only to be silenced by Kirby's snort of derision.

“Reckon there's no stoppin' that woman now that's she caught scent of yer title. Worse than a coonhound, she is. Reckon we gotta get that garden gate fixed,” he said, shaking his graying head.

“I gather that she did not stoke the fire, nor prepare her own meal?” Dante asked as he finished off his coffee.

“Reckon not, although I was goin' to refuse if she'd asked me to unfasten her gown,” Kirby declared. “A man's got some pride, he does. I figured,” he added with a straightforward stare at his captain, “'twas yer place to be settin' young madam on her beam-ends, not mine. Probably would've tried to box me ears anyway,” he speculated. “Outweighs me, as well.”

Dante grinned, watching his steward rinse out the mugs, then spread the cooling coals in the hearth.

“I'll sleep on board the
Sea Dragon
tonight, or, for what's left of the night,” he amended.

“Aye, thought ye might be of that frame of mind. Reckon ye're not takin' any chances of bein' compromised by young madam, though, I reckon she might have thought just her bonny eyes would be enough to ensnare ye again,” Kirby stated, openly contemptuous of such a ploy.

“I suppose you will be following shortly?” Dante asked, turning at the door, his expression enigmatic.

Kirby's eyebrows rose startlingly. “As fast as me short legs'll carry me, m'lord. Ye won't find me stayin' alone in the same house with that she-wolf,” he proclaimed vehemently. “No, sir, I'll be along as soon as I can gather up a few things. Reckon when young madam awakens to an empty bed and empty house in the mornin', she'll be fit to be tied,” he predicted. “And I don't want to be anywhere hereabouts.”

“As you wish. I'll see you on board the
Sea Dragon
, then,” Dante said. He was gone just as quietly as he'd arrived, leaving the little steward to clean up his kitchen.

Dante walked swiftly along the now deserted streets, his steps bringing him closer to the docks with each passing moment. He breathed deeply of the moisture-laden air, its cold sharpness clearing his head. As he neared a narrow lane cutting between two buildings, he became aware of footsteps echoing his. Stepping into the dark shadow of the building, Dante waited. He smiled when he heard the footsteps quicken as his own were silenced. As they grew loud, he stepped out into the path of the man who'd been following him all evening.

The man had little chance to avoid a collision with the broad shoulders suddenly blocking his path, nor time to speculate about the intent of Dante Leighton, for the bunched fist of the captain of the
Sea Dragon
connected at once with his jaw. The painful impact sent the man flying backwards into the gutter, where he lay and watched dazedly as the tall figure disappeared into the darkness.

“Who goes there?” called out the sailor on graveyard watch as Dante climbed aboard. The sailor's voice was more threatening than questioning.

“Captain Leighton, Webber,” Dante called out, pleased that the young man had been so alert, for he wanted no prowlers on board the
Sea Dragon
.

“Oh, Cap'n, sir.” The young sailor sighed, partly in relief and partly in disappointment at not having the chance to challenge the trespasser, for the night had been boring and quiet thus far. “Didn't know ye was comin' back on board, Cap'n. Only me, and I think Jamaica, on board the
Sea Dragon
. Though I couldn't swear to him bein' on board. Haven't seen him in hours. Mr. Kirby'd said the cat was stayin' on board. Said to leave the ol' buzzard to his tomcattin',” Webber said with an approving grin.

“All quiet, then?” Dante asked.

“Aye, Cap'n, and before that too, from what Baker told me when I relieved him. Said there'd been a bit of a ruckus on the docks, and he'd gone to see what the trouble was. But it was just some broken hogsheads of molasses, as well as some rowdy sailors racin' about the docks.”

“Very well, Webber. Kirby will be along shortly, so do not mistake him for a prowler, will you?” Dante warned the watch before going below.

His cabin was dark, and fumbling with his tinderbox, he struck a spark and lit the lantern swinging from the deck beam over the table.

Dante stared in silence at the disarray on the tabletop. The treasure map that half of Charles Town was seeking had been carelessly unrolled across the table; there were crumbs scattered over its prized surface, and it seemed to have no more importance than the half-eaten drumstick and hunk of cheese.

Dante heard a low sigh and glanced up, a look of disbelief spreading across his face when he saw his cat curled up in the lap of a caped figure asleep before the stern windows. Jamaica opened one eye and curiously watched the stealthy approach of his captain. Being a smart cat with an instinct for survival, he sensed his master's unfriendly intent and decided he would be safer elsewhere. With little hesitation, he abandoned his bedmate and bolted beneath the table.

Rhea was jolted awake by the sudden movement, and opening her sleepy eyes, she found a tall, lean stranger staring down at her with the coldest, palest gray eyes she had ever seen.

As Dante continued to stand there, he felt his simmering anger begin to rise. Was he never to know another minute's peace from these jackals and grovelers? By now, extortion, chicanery, toadying, and seduction had been attempted in order to win that cursed treasure map and curry favor with him, but so far all of those ploys had met with failure.

So he certainly should not be surprised at yet another act of beguilement although, until now, none had been so bold, or so reckless, to confront him on board the
Sea Dragon
.

Dante continued to eye Rhea warily, as if she were some strange creature with unknown intentions who had climbed on board the
Sea Dragon
. Her fine show of cowering fright was part of the deception, and he was not fooled, for only the most audacious of opportunists would have dared to come this far.

“'Tis a pity, but…” he murmured unregretfully, his patience with playing the dupe having worn too thin to humor this double-tongued chit.

“Who are you?” the cunning brat demanded, as if questioning his right to be on board the
Sea Dragon
.

“
Who am I?
” Dante repeated incredulously. “Who the blazes are you?” he inquired, his silky-toned words masking what had now become a towering rage. Then, before Rhea could fathom his intent, he had reached out and grabbed her roughly by her narrow shoulders and jerked her from the seat.

She was a thin little thing, Dante thought as he held her up easily before him, her feet kicking harmlessly in the air. She was younger than he had thought at first, but that did not dampen his anger, nor soften his scornful opinion of her. Minxes like this one learned to ply their trade at an early age, and these small hands were just as nimble-fingered in lifting a purse as more experienced ones.

The devil take the insolent wanton, Dante swore inwardly as the toe of his captive's boot struck his inner thigh in a spot far too close for manly comfort.

When Rhea saw the fierce gleam enter the stranger's eye, she realized with a sinking of her heart that she had in some unaccountable way made an enemy out of this ill-tempered man. If only she could explain to him the desperateness of her situation. Surely she could convince him of the truthfulness of her claims, perhaps even elicit his help in extricating her from her plight. There was no reason why he should not believe her, she thought hopefully.

“Please, you must help me. I am in serious trouble,” she said, feeling ill from her hastily eaten feast.

“Yes, indeed you are,” Dante responded not at all helpfully.

“I-I can explain, truly I can,” Rhea tried again.

“Can you really? Forgive me, but I doubt that very much. Do please try, though. It could prove interesting. Well, I am waiting. Come now, I haven't got all night. I would have thought you'd have this carefully rehearsed by now. I am disappointed, for I was rather looking forward to our matching of wits, unequal though I suspect it would have been,” Dante taunted her, eyes narrowed thoughtfully, as if trying to guess her next move. Then he released her shoulders from his viselike grip.

Rhea rubbed her aching arms as the blood rushed back into them. She was struck dumb, unable to find a sane reason for this man's unnatural hostility toward her. She expelled a shaky sigh as her eyes met his, and she saw in their contemptuous expression the futility of trying to change his opinion of her. Her shoulders slumped in weary defeat. If only she could sit down, rest for a moment while she thought about what she must do now…

Then she heard his hateful voice again. “Still at a loss for words, my dear? Why don't I refresh your memory?” he offered helpfully, while his smile was anything but friendly. “Actually, I can well understand why you might be confused, for there are several explanations for your presence on board the
Sea Dragon
. Although I imagine I know two reasons which figure more importantly in your scheme than a sudden penchant for the captain's charms. A humbling lesson I have learned only too well of late,” Dante mused.

Captain
, thought Rhea dully. Now she knew he would never believe her story over the lies Daniel Lewis was spreading about her, especially when concerning the death of a fellow captain. Perhaps that was why he was so suspicious of her. He had already heard the allegations against her and perhaps intended to take her back to the
London Lady
. With growing panic, Rhea realized she would never have a chance to tell the truth.