Siren's Secret (11 page)

“It’s good,” Olivia grunted in her man voice. His leg was pressed up against hers. He gave her a manly shove with his elbow. She thought it might mean approval. Or friendship. She elbowed him back. He laughed. She smiled and bit down again. The air was fresh, the sky was blue, and she was starving.

“Any news?” she finally asked, as it looked like no one else would.

“Yes.” He picked out some meat and wrapped it in bread. After a while he answered. “A friend is in town. I need to see him. Someone else arrived today. Asking which Stafford ships are in.”

“That’s not unusual, Cap’n,” Kelley thought aloud. “They all wanna sail with your protection.”

“Umm. Maybe.” He finished his meal. “Everyone keep your guard up. I don’t want any word of our passengers getting out.”

Olivia stopped eating. “Why’s that?”

“Because, Professor.” Samuel didn’t look at her, scanning the food for something else. “They were asking about an Englishwoman. A particular Englishwoman.”

Olivia squeaked. “Me?”

“Likely.” He continued, “So when we meet my people, don’t say anything. Just stick close by.” He gave a short glance down his shoulder. “And try to act manly.”

The others chuckled, but she worried. “Are we in danger?”

“Not yet.”

“But why—?”

“I said not to speak, Professor. You’ll give yourself away. Do that supercilious thing you do. That might pass.”

Olivia sighed. She would have to wait until he was ready to inform her. She changed the subject. “You speak Portuguese.”

“Yes. And seven other languages.”

“Eight!” She was astonished. “Where did you learn eight? And when?”

He shrugged. “At school, at sea. It helps to be able to communicate with the people we trade with, don’t you agree?” He didn’t wait for an answer. Samuel reached for a cloth to wipe his hands, then handed it to her. “Alex and Matthew are learning Cantonese. We’re expanding to send ships to China in the next few years. Alex thinks there’s a huge trade opportunity.”

“Her Grace?” Olivia asked. She was confused. His sister had married. Surely she still didn’t need a hobby. “Is she still in the business? I thought that was just for … a diversion.”

Everyone stopped and stared at her.

“What?” She looked about wondering what she’d said wrong.

A smaller sailor grunted with humor.

“Nothing, Professor,” Samuel clarified. “My sister doesn’t have diversions. Though her husband is working on that. Stafford Shipping is in her blood. She would always be doing something. Even if only a side venture. And she always has a few side ventures.”

“She really works?” Olivia had trouble imagining a woman working at such a strenuous job. Not that she didn’t want to teach and write and study, but there wasn’t any money to be gained, so it wasn’t really as unseemly as working for money.

“Works harder than most and has a great head for business,” Samuel admitted with a grin. “She’s an asset to the company, but don’t ever tell her I said it. It’ll go to her head. And I promised Worthington, the poor sap, that I’d give him a year to start a family and distract her, before considering a promotion.”

“Oh.” This was even more confusing. “I guess I just thought it strange that her husband lets her work.”

Samuel tilted his head down at her. “Would you ask your loved ones to give up something important to them?”

“No, but—”

“You’ve got bread crumbs in you beard, Professor.” He rose. “Let’s go, men. We have a lot to settle before heading back.”

She brushed carefully at her furry face. “Wait.” No one waited.

Honestly. The price of being a man.

She wiped at her hairy chin again, then ran to catch up.

* * *

Samuel broke the men into three groups and sent them on their various tasks. They would meet at the dock in three hours. Meanwhile, two of the men joined him and Olivia at a tavern tucked at the end of a small street.

“We’re going to drink?” Olivia asked, her voice reproachful.

Samuel raked a hand through his hair with frustration. She questioned everything. “Yes,” he said, just to irritate her.

“Well, I have things I need to purchase. Paper and ink, and—”

“Ollie.” He hissed, stepping away from the door while his crew waited behind. “I don’t like having to explain every single decision to you.”

“I’m just trying to understand—”

“Stop! When we enter this establishment, I don’t want to hear anything come out of your mouth unless it’s ‘Yes, Captain,’ or a satisfied grunt.”

“But—”

“We are not here to drink. This is where many of the merchant captains meet, trade, and share information—over a drink. I’m here to meet an old friend and find a couple more ships to sail with us through this next bit of sea. It’s very dangerous water. Do you understand?”

She gave a deep grunt. “Like that?”

He relaxed and laughed. “Yes. Come on.”

The tavern was dark, despite the bright daylight outside. Samuel made a quick scan without turning his head. He recognized the mate of a Dutch ship. “Wait here,” he told the others. Samuel spoke with the Dutchman. They had been waiting for him to arrive. That was good news. His other captain had already secured their ship and another to join them as far as Malta. He asked after Khalid. The man nodded to the back room. It was guarded by Moors. He motioned for the others to join him. Better to keep Ollie close. He checked her disguise one last time.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Remember what I said?”

“Yes, Captain.”

To the men, “Stay close.”

Olivia was suddenly nervous. They were going to talk to a
friend?
What kind of friends did the man have? She couldn’t have inquired if she’d wanted to. They passed two guards in the hall, and the room she thought would be a small back room was actually larger than the previous one. And filled. With Moorish sailors.

She trembled. Not sailors.

Pirates.

Olivia walked behind Stafford, with Kelley and another sailor keeping her safe from behind. The men in the room gave them a long study, and she attempted a manly swagger, exceptionally glad for Stafford’s broad back. The captain could easily take ten of these men. Yes, that would make the odds about seven to one. She forced the lump down in her throat and prayed the glue of her beard would not melt in the heat of the room. A striking Moor at a corner table smiled, as if he’d been waiting for them.

Stafford and the man greeted each other in Arabic, each making a strange hand motion over heart, mouth, and head.

They were invited to sit down, and Stafford took a seat. His two men stood behind him. Olivia wasn’t certain where she fell in the arrangement, so remained standing until motioned to a chair. She assumed a posture similar to Khalid’s. Arms folded. Relaxed.

That lasted all of twenty seconds.

Her palms began sweating and her scalp started itching under her wig. She pulled her cap lower over her eyes and waited silently as they were served and the two men made conversation. At one point Khalid leaned forward and switched to English.

“You are in danger, my friend,” Khalid said to Stafford. “And I cannot help you.”

Olivia looked at Stafford next to her. His face hadn’t changed expression. He took a sip from his ale mug.

“What’s the news?” Stafford asked.

“It seems you carry precious cargo?”

“I’m light. Always am this direction.” Stafford put down his mug.

Olivia took a sip from hers. Holding it steady, not looking at anyone, trying to drink like a man.

“This man. British. Looks for a key to translate a code. He has offered my cousin ten thousand British pounds to capture your ship and deliver this key.”

Olivia choked. Ale came from her mouth. The men looked at her. She put the heavy mug down. “Sorry chaps. I’m a whiskey man.” She shook her head with disgust. “You were saying? Ten thousand pounds. Sounds desperate.”

“Indeed,” Stafford agreed, eyeing her and sending a silent message to be quiet. “I’d not trust anyone willing to pay that unless I saw it up front.”

“My cousin took two thousand up front. He will ambush you on the east side of the bay.”

Olivia didn’t move. Neither did Stafford. She didn’t know much about bribery and kidnapping, but that seemed like a goodly amount for a night of work. Finally Stafford spoke.

“What is this key? Why is it so special?”

“Not it, my friend. She. A woman. Brilliant, it seems.”

“Brilliant?” Olivia repeated. Stafford flashed her that hush-up glare again. She forgot she was supposed to be quiet until his foot pressed hers under the table. Still, she had never had anyone openly refer to her as brilliant. If she were to be hunted and killed, at least it was for a good reason.

Brilliant.
She felt herself smiling ever so slightly, suddenly wanting to burst out and tell somebody she was brilliant! But only a fool would expose herself over a compliment when being hunted by mercenaries and surrounded by several hundred murderous pirates.

And she would likely die before getting very far. She slumped in her chair, silent.

“You do not believe women can be brilliant, sir?” Khalid asked, misinterpreting her expression.

“Of course—”

“Not.” Stafford finished for her. “Mr. Hill is quite the snob that way.”

Khalid shrugged. “British, eh?” he continued. “This man says she can unlock ancient secrets. That kind of knowledge is valuable to some. Especially if those ancient secrets bring power.” Khalid leaned back and turned his attention to his friend. “But he did not say that. I only guess.”

“Did he say anything else? Give a description of this woman?”

“Of course.” Khalid smiled and took a long drink of ale before revealing, “Hair like moonlight.” He looked at Olivia. “And eyes like two stars.”

Olivia did not avoid the man’s scrutiny, but pushed her glasses higher on her nose and held his gaze with one that she hoped appeared curious. Stafford revealed nothing.

“The man says she must be delivered alive. The rest of you don’t matter.”

Stafford gave a mocking half smile. “A man with grand illusions. But I commend his broad vision. Does this fool have a name?”

“Moreau is what he called himself.”

“Son of a Moor,” Olivia hissed. The men looked at her. “That’s what it means. French for
son of a Moor.”

Khalid said something in Arabic.

Stafford answered back harshly in English. “I’m not that easily killed.”

The crew straightened, wits sharp, moving into a more defensive posture behind her and Stafford. Others in the room went silent in attention. Olivia’s ears buzzed in panic. Had she given them away?

Then Khalid waved a hand for the others to stand down. “You will be outnumbered. You cannot hope to survive. Turn back.”

Over the pounding of her heartbeat, Olivia realized the Muslim pirate was concerned.

“I’m not carrying anyone who fits your description.”

“Give me the woman, and at least I can stop the attack.”

“Never going to happen, my friend,” Stafford said.

“She matters to you?”

“Not at all.”

Olivia sucked her breath hard as Stafford continued. She had thought they were warming up to each other. At least friendly. He’d given her the man nudge. That meant friendship to men like him, right?

“I don’t hand paying passengers over to murderous, greedy pirates.”

“If you say so.” Khalid rubbed the lobe of the ear that had no ring.

“No offense to you, of course.” Stafford took a draft of ale, relaxing again. “For the record, the woman’s companion was very ill. I left them both in Lisbon. They are to board the next passenger carrier in a week. If the woman is better.”

Khalid nodded. “I will inform my cousin. But perhaps the wind will be on your side, Samuel Stafford.”

“I thank you for the warning and ask your forgiveness in advance for killing your cousin.”

“He is not without honor. Just young. Headstrong. I don’t wish to see my cousin killed. Nor you. I am in a difficult position. This Moreau, he has the British garrison on his side. I cannot kill him while he is here. But it wouldn’t matter.” Khalid leaned forward. “There is something bigger, Samuel Stafford. Whatever your lady is involved in”—he paused and looked at Olivia one last time—“beware.”

Stafford pushed his drink away, and Olivia gathered they were done. She rose with Stafford, the fine hairs all over her body standing on edge. If they knew she was the one they sought, any man here could claim her for the money. She forced herself to wait patiently rather than run out, but prayed they departed before the pounding in her chest produced an untimely swoon.

“We will be here a couple of days yet. I’ll need to make preparations and wait for reinforcements. Your cousin would be a fool to attack a small fleet. Perhaps we will laugh over this again in a few nights. Ten thousand pounds.” Stafford clucked twice and winked at his friend. “That’s a lot for any woman.”

Olivia bit her tongue until she thought blood would spurt from her mouth. She followed Stafford out of the tavern and kept her silence until they were far enough away. Until she couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

“They called me brilliant. Can you imagine? Ten thousand pounds of brilliant?” The part of her that felt safe again wanted to shout that it was she. She was the brilliant one! So what if Stafford was a rude, uncaring mome.

Stafford stopped short and she bumped into him. He didn’t catch her. She was in man gear after all. It would have looked odd. He did give her a disappointed glare.

“Ten thousand pounds? For
your
life?” he asked.

Olivia braced herself for the insult.

“You sell yourself short, Ollie.” He spun to the men. “Spread the word that we are in port for the week. Then get yourselves back on the ship by dusk. We leave tonight.”

He just delivered the biggest compliment she had ever received, and there was no time to relish it. They were leaving tonight. Sneaking out of Gibraltar under the guise of darkness. That could not be good.

In fact, that was ten thousand pounds of very alarming.

It was a moonless night. Samuel decided to sail immediately in hopes that darkness would defer attack. The second Stafford ship was behind him, with a Dutch vessel completing the triad. The fourth ship stayed in Gibraltar, not anxious for trouble.