Desire and Deception (6 page)

"
Jase
, are you certain about this? Just think of what you'll miss if you marry."

"The Carlin Line should provide me adequate entertainment, at least for a few years."

"Well . . . what about all the hearts you'll be breaking? There must be a dozen women on the catch for you here in London, not to mention Lisbon and Gibraltar and—"

"Not one I would consider marrying. Don't worry, my friend. I don't intend to lower my standards entirely."

Kyle hesitated, before suddenly grinning.
"Hell, why not?
If you're fool enough to marry Carlin's brat for her money, who am I to stop you?" He raised his glass in salute.
"To the Carlin heiress.
May she be comely and sweet-tempered and own a thousand
ships.

"And to the
Leucothea
,"
he added, after drinking deeply. "The best goddamned mistress a man ever had. You know,
Jase
, I'm getting the better end of the deal. I'd rather have the
Leucothea
than all the heiresses in Europe. Remind me to thank you sometime. Come to think of
it,
you'd best be on your guard till I sober up. I may very well end up kissing you before your bride does."

Remembering their conversation now as he stood on deck, Jason wondered if he should have gotten drunk, as Kyle had. Ordinarily they celebrated their victories their first night in port with a bottle and some female companionship, but for a reason Jason couldn't even name, he had postponed his departure from the ship. Yet all the liquor on board might not have been enough to dispel his heavy mood. His usual cheerful spirits had been steadily diminishing all evening—and he had no idea why. It was true that while Kyle had been mulling over loyalties, he had been giving more thought to his own future than he had in a great while. But his prospects didn't really concern him.

It wasn't even his father's autocratic arrangement of a marriage contract, since this actually wasn't the
marquess's
first attempt at getting him to settle down. In fact, Jason could admire his father's skillful manipulations, even when he himself was the victim.

For some years now, avoiding Lord
Effing's
machinations had been something of a game to Jason. Even though he had never been opposed to marriage, he preferred to choose his own bride and had no intention of rushing the business. He was willing to admit, however, that negotiating for the Carlin heiress had been a masterful stroke by the
marquess
.

During their discussion that morning, there had been no dissimulation between them; there had been no need, for father and son understood each other quite well. Lord
Effing
had known it wouldn't be the Carlin fortune itself that attracted Jason, but the appeal of controlling a vast shipping enterprise. And Jason had realized the concessions his father was making. Indeed, Jason had been rather amused to hear his sire advocating a union that had such distinct disadvantages: his future bride had not a drop of noble blood in her veins, and she was rumored to be of unsound mind at that.

Jason had accepted his father's assurances that the stories concerning the girl's insanity were without foundation. While the
marquess
might favor blue blood, he would draw the line at the possibility of either madness or imbecility in his descendants. But the shroud of secrecy itself intrigued Jason, just as his father had known it would. That, and lure of the Carlin ships, were strong enough inducements for him to consider the match.

He would have been a fool to do otherwise. And perhaps, Jason mused, it was possible that he and the Carlin heiress would suit. And if he would have to give up his own admittedly romantic ideal of the woman who would one day be his wife, the Carlin ships should be adequate compensation.

But that wasn't the source of the disquiet that had been disturbing him all evening. Rather, it was his odd presentiment. For the past few hours he had
known
that once he left the ship, his life would somehow change. And seeing the cloaked woman had only strengthened that feeling.

A balmy breeze ruffled Jason's gilded chestnut hair as he stood watching her vanish into the night, his strong, well- shaped hands lightly gripping the railing. Behind him, he could sense Tim Sutter's presence, could feel the boy's questioning gaze on his back.

"Maybe we shouldn't let her go,
Cap'm
," Tim suggested hesitantly. "She said some coves were after her."

Although normally he deplored impulsiveness, Jason had already decided to follow her. Rescuing damsels in distress wasn't his line, but he had no intention of letting her roam the streets alone at night, not in this wretched neighborhood, where thieves and procurers waited to prey on the innocent and unsuspecting. She was singularly lucky to have made it this far; even though the Thames River Police patrolled the docks and the parish constabulary boasted a large force of night watchmen, Jason himself never went unarmed. But in addition to wanting to protect her, he was more than a little curious about her startled reaction to hearing his name.

"I'll see to her, lad," Jason replied, dismissing the cabin boy. "You'd best return to your rounds."

"Aye, sir."

Making his way quickly down the gangway to the quay, Jason vaulted up the steps and crossed the wharf, passing through the wall gate in time to spy the cloaked figure some distance to his right. He had no trouble following her. Not only was she favoring her right leg, which made her easy to distinguish even in darkness, but Jason had experience tracking far more elusive game, having learned the skill from an American trapper during a year spent in the wilderness of
the northern territories.

He kept her in sight, pondering her reaction as he strode briskly along the narrow, twisting streets. He found it odd that she had recoiled from him in fear. Women generally responded far differently to him. And to his knowledge, there was nothing in his reputation to make her afraid of him.

He was accustomed to being a target of speculation, of course; to his crew he was a renegade nobleman's son, a rebel and an adventurer. And some of the stories about him were even true. He was the younger son of the wealthy
Marquess
of
Effing
, and he had left home to escape his father's dictates— although he hadn't been disinherited when he took to the sea, as was rumored. For a short time Jason had been an officer in the Royal Navy, but his father's influence with the Admiralty had ended his hopes for a career spent in battle. He had gone to America shortly thereafter, where he'd begun building his fortune.

There
were any number
of rumors about how he had come by the
Leucothea
—that he had captured her, that he had won her at cards, that he had killed a man in a duel and spirited the ship away. But he had purchased the brig in America with some lucky winnings.

He was young for a captain, even now, when he was a few years shy of thirty. But he had found that command came naturally to him. His powerful physique and air of authority had gained him immediate attention—although he had had to earn the respect of his crew, all seasoned tars who accepted his leadership with wariness.

It was because of his inexperience at sea that he had formed the partnership with Kyle Ramsey and learned how to sail. Although an unusual arrangement, he and Ramsey made a good team. Kyle knew how to outrace a storm and plot a course through shallows better than any captain alive, and Jason knew men.

He had returned to England then, and for two years had fought the war in his own way: aiding British troops by transporting much-needed weapons and supplies across the channel, and harrying French vessels whenever the opportunity arose. His uncanny ability to outguess the enemy, combined with Kyle's navigational skill and their crew's courage, made the
Leucothea
a deadly adversary in battle.

There had been plenty of battles. Even though the
Leucothea
was a private vessel, she had seen as much action in the war against Napoleon as most naval ships. Only a week earlier off the coast of Spain, she had encountered two frigates that had eluded the English blockade. Unwilling to endanger his ship by facing the combined strength of longer range cannon, Jason had come about and sailed for Cadiz, leading the unsuspecting French vessels within range of a British squadron. It had been short work for three ships of the line to capture both frigates.

The next day, the
Leucothea
had exchanged broadsides with a French sloop of war, which mounted twenty-four guns to the brig's ten. In a maneuver that would have done Nelson proud, the
Leucothea
had swung alongside and inflicted enough damage to ensure the sloop's eventual capture by the Royal Navy.

Remembering the action of the past two weeks, Jason thought again of his odd reluctance to leave the ship this evening. He had no reason for it. His discussion with Kyle had been necessary, but could have been completed in a quarter of the time. He couldn't blame his procrastination on the paperwork or the necessity of finalizing plans for the ship, either. Repairing the damages the
Leucothea
had sustained would be short work for his well-trained crew, and they could see to it without his supervision.

He wouldn't even need to be present for the loading of the next cargo. The supplies they obtained were generally the best quality and rarely required inspection. There would be no maggots in the flour or spoilage in the dried meats, while the muskets and Baker rifles would be in prime working order, and the bayonets and sabers made of the finest steel. Moreover, his first mate could handle any problem.

And it wasn't as if he were reluctant to reach his destination, Jason reflected, hearing snatches of song and raucous laughter coming from a tavern he passed. It had been some weeks since he had had a woman and he was more than ready for one. Even now a lovely lady of pleasure was waiting for him at the exclusive bordello he frequented. Once the proprietor

Madame
Fanchon
,
had received his message, she would have arranged for the exotic Lila to be free for the evening.

No, he had been waiting for something unexpected to happen.
Something such as the arrival of a woman in a hooded cloak.
Indeed, he felt almost as if he had been
meant
to wait for her.
Which was entirely illogical, since he had never believed in premonition.

Jason banished his thoughts as the cloaked figure came to a halt. Even as he watched, she faded into the shadows of a side alley that led toward the river and the
Wapping
waterfront. Without hesitation, Jason lengthened his stride.

When he reached the narrow passage, he could barely make her out in the shadows. Despite her limp, she was moving so rapidly that he had to increase his speed to a jog merely to keep her in sight. She glanced back only once, but when she began to run, Jason realized he had been seen. He gave up all pretense of disguising his pursuit as she disappeared around the corner, and broke into a run himself.

The next moment, he tripped over something in his path and nearly went sprawling. Slamming a shoulder against the adjacent wall, Jason swore violently, while the unfortunate cat under his feet let out a screech that reverberated wildly in the narrow confines of the alley. But even the feline's howl failed to raise the hair on Jason's neck as successfully as the woman's scream that followed. The piercing sound resounded with rage and terror as well.

Jason felt his heart constrict as he raced the final yards of the alley. When he finally reached
Wapping
High Street and skidded to a halt, he could see the cloaked woman blindly fighting her three assailants.

"No!" she cried as she struggled ineffectually.

"
Yer
to come with us, missy."

"No! You tried to kill Matthew!"

Although her words were muffled, Jason heard them. He didn't stop to wonder if he might be intruding on a private matter, though, but gave a shout and threw himself into the fray.