The Daredevil Snared (The Adventurers Quartet Book 3) (8 page)

Regardless, she’d immediately wanted to take Diccon to speak with Dixon and Hillsythe, the de facto leaders of the captives, but as Diccon could not go into the mine and there’d been guards hovering by the entrance, she’d had to wait until after the evening meal before she’d been able to engineer a suitably private meeting.

Dixon and Hillsythe had listened to her condensed version of Diccon’s tale, then had called Diccon over. After she’d convinced Diccon that his Captain Caleb—the only name Diccon had been given—wouldn’t mind him repeating his story to Dixon and Hillsythe, they’d taken Diccon over his report again. Hillsythe in particular—to this day, Katherine did not understand exactly what his background was—had focused on the captain; with a sense of suppressed but building excitement, Hillsythe had asked Diccon to describe the man. Hillsythe had been well-nigh transformed by Diccon’s reply; clearly in the grip of some heightened anticipation, Hillsythe had called Will Hopkins and Fanshawe over and had Diccon repeat his description of the captain to them.

“Frobisher.”
Will had breathed the name, then glanced at Fanshawe. “A Captain Caleb who looks like that and who has led a crew here on a clandestine operation...that
has
to be Caleb Frobisher.”

His eyes alight, Fanshawe had nodded. “And if it is he...
damn
. This is really happening.” Enthusiasm of a sort Katherine hadn’t heard for months had colored his tone. Fanshawe had met Hillsythe’s, then Dixon’s eyes. “There really
is
a rescue underway.”

Despite the excitement in his eyes, Hillsythe had swiftly said, “We need to keep this to ourselves—at least until we learn more.” He’d glanced at Diccon. “You, too, Diccon.” Hillsythe had paused, then added, “As matters stand, you’re a vital cog in this, m’lad—you’re our only way of maintaining contact with those outside.”

That had been Katherine’s cue. “Actually,” she’d said, “I asked Dubois this morning if one of the women, taking turns, couldn’t be allowed to go out with Diccon. We bargained—you know how he is. But the upshot is that he agreed as a trial to let me go into the jungle with Diccon in return for me bringing back those nuts he’s particularly fond of.”

Dixon had grinned. “It seems our luck’s finally turned. For once, matters are falling our way.”

Hillsythe had nodded. “That’s excellent—an unlooked-for advantage.” He’d looked at Diccon. “That doesn’t make your role any less important. Miss Fortescue can be our mouthpiece, the one more able to tell the captain all he needs to know, but she and we all will be depending on you to guide her to the captain and his men and get her back again, too. No one knows the jungle around about anywhere near as well as you do.”

Katherine had smiled at Hillsythe. That had been exactly the right thing to say.

They’d sent a happy Diccon back to join his friends. The four men had looked at each other, then Dixon had said, “Frobisher—assuming it’s he—said he and his men were the scouting party.” He’d looked at Katherine. “Katherine, my dear, we need you to go out and learn what the situation really is before any hopes are raised.”

She’d understood perfectly. To have lost all hope, then have it handed back, only to have it snatched away again...that would be beyond cruel. She’d nodded. “Of course. I’ll go out with Diccon tomorrow and meet with...Captain Frobisher and learn all I can.”

So here she was, collecting nuts by rote, but... “Where the devil is Frobisher?” she muttered.

She bent over to pick up yet another nut—and a frisson of awareness swept over her nape. She abruptly straightened and looked around, searching through the shadows beneath the trees.

And he was suddenly there, walking out from the shadows, materializing from the gloom. She swung to face him and swiftly took in all she could see—all her senses could glean. The confidence in his easy stride, his lean, clean-cut features, his square chin, and the thick, dark locks that overhung a broad brow. His relaxed expression contrasted with the sword that rode on his hip—so very comfortably, it seemed. He was at least six feet tall and broad-shouldered, all lean muscle and masculine grace, then her gaze rose to his face, and she noted the network of lines at the corners of his eyes that she’d noticed many sailors bore. Then her gaze skated down over his strong nose and fastened on his mouth.

On a pair of mobile lips that looked like they curved readily...

And there her gaze remained as he halted before her.

Stop staring!

With an effort, she managed to haul her gaze to his eyes. The lines at the corners crinkled as he smiled.

She felt her temperature rise and feared it showed in her cheeks. But great heavens! Smiles like that—on men like him—should be outlawed.

“Good morning. Miss Fortescue, I believe?”

His voice was deep, slightly rumbly, and ruffled her senses like an invisible hand.

She managed a nod. “Ah...yes.”

So eloquent!
She nearly shook her head in an attempt to shake her wits back into place. Instead, she forced herself to look aside, to glance at Diccon; he’d drifted away searching for fruit and berries.

He’d heard Frobisher’s voice and came running up.

She caught the boy to her, draping a protective arm over his shoulders. “Diccon told us you had come to learn more about the camp so that a rescue could be mounted.” Reminding herself of Frobisher’s supposed purpose helped her stiffen her spine. She raised her gaze to his eyes once more. “Is that so?”

He inclined his head, but his expression hardening, he lifted his gaze from her face and scanned the vegetation about them. Then he returned his gaze to her eyes, and all trace of the lighthearted gentleman had vanished. “Forgive me for asking this, Miss Fortescue, but I must. Don’t rip up at me.” He lowered his voice. “Are you truly free of Dubois? Free to talk, free to take back what I say to your colleagues at the mine?” He paused, then, his blue gaze locked on her eyes, he asked, “Can I trust you?”

“Yes.” The word came spontaneously, and she realized she meant it on every level. How odd. She didn’t trust others all that easily. Fate and hard-won experience had taught her bitter lessons she’d never forgotten. But there was something about him—this man who had, against all hope, walked out of the jungle to meet her—that spoke to her and reassured her at some level she didn’t comprehend. She nodded and repeated, “Yes. You can trust all of us.” She gestured in the direction of the camp. “We’ve worked together for months. If we had any who might have been tempted to collude with Dubois and his men, we would have known long ago.”

She glanced at Diccon and realization dawned. “But if it’s my coming out with Diccon that has worried you, I had already asked Dubois for permission for the women, one a day in rotation, to go out with Diccon. Dubois agreed to a trial, but with only me being allowed out and that only for an hour, and only to collect these nuts”—she gestured to the contents of her basket—“that he particularly enjoys. He very likely hopes his conditions will drive a wedge between me and the other women by making me appear to be favored.” She grinned cynically and glanced up at Frobisher. “That’s how he thinks. Unfortunately for Dubois, it was another woman’s idea—I just offered to ask.”

He frowned. “I need you to tell me about Dubois—about how he manages the camp and all of you.”

She hesitated, her gaze on his face. His handsome face, but this time, she looked beyond the glamour. “First...will you tell me your name, please?”

He met her eyes, then he stepped back and swept her a bow. “Captain Caleb Frobisher, of Frobisher Shipping Company, sailing out of Aberdeen.” Despite his level tone, as he straightened, he waggled his brows at her.

She nearly laughed in surprise, threw him a mock-disapproving look instead, but the silly byplay reassured her. “Hopkins and Fanshawe thought that was who you were.”

“Ah, of course. I don’t know them personally, but they would know my older brothers.”

She peered into the shadows behind him. “Diccon said you had twenty-four men with you.”

Caleb grinned down at Diccon, who had remained beside Katherine and was staring up at Caleb with rapt attention. “That’s correct, but most are busy burying some weapons in a cache by the lake, and others are watching the compound or guarding our camp. I only brought one man with me—a friend, another captain, who I’m grateful saw fit to join me in this mission.” He returned his gaze to Katherine’s face. “With your permission?”

When she nodded, he waved to Phillipe to join them.

Phillipe walked out of the jungle. Caleb performed the introductions—and discovered he wasn’t all that happy to have to watch Phillipe bow over Miss Fortescue’s hand and press a kiss to her knuckles.

He knew it was just Phillipe’s way, yet...

But on retrieving her hand with no more than a polite smile, Miss Fortescue immediately returned her bright hazel eyes to Caleb’s face. “Weapons?”

He felt oddly mollified. “Indeed.” He looked at Diccon. “Perhaps you’d better gather more fruit so that you can go back with Miss Fortescue. She only has another twenty minutes or so left.”

Diccon flashed Caleb a swift grin. “All right. Will you still be here?”

“Yes.” Caleb looked around and spotted a fallen log; he pointed to it. “We’ll be over there.”

“Right-o!” Diccon smiled at Miss Fortescue. “There’s a big berry bush I passed yesterday nearer to the lake. I’ll be back in no time.”

“I’ll wait for you.” Miss Fortescue watched Diccon run off, then she looked at Caleb. “Sadly, there’s no need to protect him. He told us he thought that you and your men had killed Kale and his slavers. Is that correct?”

Caleb kept his gaze on Diccon’s dwindling figure. “We didn’t just kill Kale and his crew—we wiped all sign of them from this earth.” He looked back and met Miss Fortescue’s pretty hazel eyes without apology. “That’s where the weapons come from.”

Her gaze remained steady on his face. “Once that news is known in the compound, you’ll be feted as a hero. For all of us, Kale was the instigator of our captivity.”

Caleb hesitated, then said, “He might have been the one who arranged your kidnappings, but the instigators...sadly, they’re closer to home.” He saw the questions leap to her eyes, but forced himself to wave them aside—to wave her to the fallen log. “You don’t have much time, and there’s a lot of information we need, as well as news we should impart.”

She nodded and accompanied him to the log. He reached for her hand—felt the delicate bones under his larger, stronger fingers; he gripped gently and handed her to the log. She drew in her skirts and sat, with an unconscious grace that would have done credit to a ton drawing room.

Rather than sit beside her—he wasn’t at all sure that would be a good idea, Phillipe’s presence notwithstanding—Caleb sat on the ground facing her, and Phillipe fluidly sat alongside him.

The instant they’d settled, she asked, “What do you need to know?”

Caleb thought of all they’d seen and noticed about the captives. “How does Dubois run the camp?”

She held his gaze. “By intimidation.”

Phillipe frowned. “How so? We haven’t seen any sign of aggression from him toward any of those he holds.”

“He doesn’t need to convince us of anything.” Miss Fortescue’s slim fingers twined, then gripped. “Let me tell you the tale those who were the first to be brought to the compound told me.”

In an even tone, with no real inflection, she proceeded to tell them of an act of violence, of viciousness, that made them both pale under their tans and tied their stomachs in knots. Caleb literally felt nauseated.

She concluded, “That girl was the only captive lost to us.” She paused, then went on, “Dixon, Harriet Frazier, Hopkins, and Fanshawe, as well as several of the men and quite a few of the children, were here at the time. Subsequently, if there’s the slightest sign of resistance, Dubois will pick some scapegoat and make threats—quietly, calmly, and utterly cold-bloodedly. And every one of us knows he’ll carry out those threats to the letter if we give him the excuse. Beneath his outwardly controlled demeanor lurks a monster.”

Her expression bleak, she met Caleb’s gaze. “That’s how he controls us. He never threatens the one he wants to cow, but whoever he believes that person is closest to—that person’s emotional Achilles’ heel.”

“Like he threatens Diccon with his friends’ lives?” Caleb asked.

She nodded. “Exactly. So we do what we must to survive—to keep all of us alive. We do what he asks, exactly what he asks...but no more than that.” She straightened her spine and lifted her chin. “But that doesn’t mean we’re not actively fighting him—we just fight in a different way.”

Caleb had to admire her quiet dignity. “How so?”

“We’ve been trying to work out a way to escape, all of us together, but how to deal with the mercenaries is a problem we’ve yet to solve. In the meantime...we let Dubois believe he manages the mine, but in reality, in that respect, we manage him. He’s truly complacent over his hold on us—and in the way he thinks of it, that’s understandable enough. He’s clever and intelligent, and used to succeeding, but like many people who are very sure of themselves, he doesn’t appreciate what he doesn’t know.”

She looked from Caleb to Phillipe, then returned her gaze to Caleb’s face. “In this case, what Dubois doesn’t know is how a mine really operates. His understanding of that is very limited. Once Hillsythe arrived...he saw it and explained how we could use Dubois’s lack of real knowledge against him and so manage how fast the diamonds are mined.” She paused and drew in a breath. “We all know that once the diamonds run out, the mine will be closed, and we’ll all be killed. Even the children understand that—they might be young, but they’re from the slums, and when it comes to survival, they’re very quick. So we manage the output from the mine with a view to eking it out for long enough for us to find some way to escape.”

Caleb nodded decisively. “That’s going to fit nicely with our mission. We’re here to learn the location of the camp and ensure that gets back to London. Whatever else we can learn of the mine, of Dubois and his men and the overall operation, will assist mightily in formulating a viable rescue mission, which, as I understand it and now fully expect, will be the next stage.”