The Notorious Lady Anne: A Loveswept Historical Romance (9 page)

“Take him to the brig,” Phin instructed Emmaline’s boatswain, once they were on board the
Delilah
.

“No,” Emmaline said. “Not the brig.” Even though Addison clearly hated her, she wouldn’t subject him to the indignities of the brig. Not the man who “saved” her from Donell’s attack, or the man who passionately kissed her. “Take him to a cabin.”

Addison’s expressionless blue eyes looked through her, making something inside her shrivel.

“But bar the door.” Her trust in Addison only went so far.

Henry, the boatswain, nodded. “Aye, Cap’n.”

Addison planted his feet when Henry reached for him. “I’m staying with my crew.”

Phin raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have a choice, mate.”

Addison shook his head, his face set. “I’m not leaving them.”

Phin glanced at Emmaline, who put a restraining hand on his arm. Addison followed the movement, his already dark expression nearly thunderous.

“I will take care of your crew,” she said to Addison.

His lip curled in derision. “And I should trust you?”

The retort wasn’t unexpected, yet pierced anyway. “Yes.”

“Because you’ve been so truthful in the past?”

There was no reply to that. They both knew she’d lied from the moment they met. “In this, I am being truthful. Your crew will be set free in tenders with enough provisions to get them to the next port.” It was the best she was able to do without showing weakness to her own crew. Pirates routinely set the crew of plundered ships free.

Addison’s jaw muscles worked, the war within him written plainly on his face. He didn’t want to trust her, but had no choice.

“Very well,” he said tightly.

She nodded to Henry to take Addison to his new accommodations. Addison went, with a straight back marking him as a commander of men, and a proud look marking him as noble.

“What do you want with him?” Phin tipped his head toward Shamus.

Emmaline reluctantly turned her attention from Addison to the man Phin spoke of. She’d nearly forgotten about her other prisoner. She contemplated him while he glared at her. There was intelligence lurking behind that glare. He could be an asset to the crew, once he shed the attitude. Working for her was far better than working for Alphonse.

“What are your strengths?” she asked Shamus. Alphonse said he was lazy, but Emmaline saw determination in the man’s bearing.

His eyes narrowed as if he had to think about the question.

Phin stepped forward. “The captain asked you a question. You best answer it.”

Shamus’s gaze flicked to Phin, then back to Emmaline. “Alphonse used me as a swabby.”

Emmaline lifted a brow. Swabby was the lowest position on a ship. “Is that what you want to do?”

He shrugged massive shoulders.

“Were you pressed into service?” It wasn’t uncommon for the Royal Navy to “fetch” unsuspecting men and force them into service. Emmaline took Shamus’s silence as proof her theory was correct.

“What did you do before you served in the Navy?” She emphasized the word
served
, letting him know she held no regard for a Navy that forced men into service in such a fashion.

“I was a carpenter’s apprentice.”

She nodded, having suspected as much. “Have him report to Taggert,” she said to Phin. Then, to Shamus, “Taggert is our carpenter. You’ll work under him. Taggert’s pay is five shares. Yours will be two and a half until you prove you deserve more.”

Shamus’s eyes widened and his mouth went slack. Even his fingers uncurled from the tight fists he’d kept them in. No doubt Alphonse had never asked the man what his strengths were, in order to utilize them to his advantage, nor did he pay the man. Fool.

“Do you feel that is too little?” she asked.

He quickly shook his head. “No, sir. Ma’am.”

Emmaline bit back a smile. “Call me Captain.” She motioned to a sailor passing by. “Take him to Taggert.”

She walked away, rubbing her chafed wrists, her skirts swishing around her ankles. She wanted one thing—well, two. She wanted to get out of these bloody skirts and she wanted peace and quiet.

“Do you think it wise to make him carpenter?” Phin asked, keeping step beside her.

“Assistant carpenter. Taggert will keep his eye on him. If he doesn’t work out we’ll cut him loose.”

She entered her cabin and began unbuttoning the front of her dress. Phin followed and she sighed. She may not get her peace and quiet but, by God, she’d get out of this blasted gown and into something more comfortable.

She held the sagging bodice against her chest. “Turn around.” She twirled her finger to punctuate her point.

Phin turned, crossing his arms over his chest. The gown fell in a puddle at her feet. She picked it up and threw it at the door. “Burn that bloody thing.”

She dressed with the movements of one more accustomed to men’s clothing than women’s.

Phin waited to question her until she was finished and they were facing each other. “What did you discover?”

“I found information on the shipment of gold. Our contacts were correct in that. Unfortunately, Alphonse made an untimely appearance and I lost the information before I could read it fully.”

Phin was the closest she had to family, definitely the best friend she’d ever had, and more like a brother than any of the whelps Daniel Blackwell had fathered, but she refused to tell him everything—that Alphonse had made her choose between the paper and Addison. That Addison’s kiss set her on fire like no man’s had done before.

“What about the man locked in the cabin?”

She shrugged, her gaze skittering away. She was trying to put Nicholas Addison in the appropriate place in her grand scheme. Unfortunately, he refused to go there, and just as unfortunately, Phin would see Addison’s effect on her. “I need him. He’s the only one who can give us the information we require.”

Phin snorted. “He didn’t seem the type to spill his secrets easily.”

“Aye. It might take time.”

And what was she to do with him until then? She couldn’t keep him locked away forever, and Kenmar would soon learn the
Pride
was taken and Addison was missing. Her issues weren’t with Kenmar or the men who insured Blackwell Shipping. Unfortunately, because they had the bad sense to invest in Blackwell, they were swept up in this.

There had always been the very real possibility she would come to the attention of the king himself—something she’d hoped to avoid. With Addison as her captive, the very real possibility became a near certainty.

“Who is he?” Phin asked, suspicion lacing his voice.

“Captain Nicholas Addison.”

“Never heard of him, but by the looks of his crew it appears Blackwell is finding it difficult to procure decent sailors.”

Emmaline’s back went straight at the implication that Addison was in any way like his crew. “Captain Addison is a highly skilled captain. He did the best he could with what he was given.”

Phin’s eyebrows shot up and the aforementioned suspicion blazed hotly in his eyes. Bloody hell, she’d said too much, revealed too much.

“Kenmar hired him to discover who was behind the attacks on Blackwell Shipping. Apparently he’d been in the Royal Navy prior to serving Kenmar,” she said.

Phin looked at her closely. “What aren’t you telling me, Anne?”

For a moment, panic erased her exhaustion. What did he know? And how did he know it? Was it written on her face that Nicholas Addison touched her where no other man, save one, dared? That he kissed her like only one other had even attempted?

“All I’m saying is Addison isn’t like his crew. He’s a damn fine captain.”

Phin leaned against the wall and crossed a booted foot over his ankle, contemplating her with eyes that saw too much. “You can get this information other ways. Hell, we could sail to Boston, break into Blackwell’s office and steal it ourselves. Addison’s merely a captain. He doesn’t know anything.”

“He knows who I am. He knows who Emmaline Sutherland is.” And
that
could be deadly. Even Aunt Dorothy didn’t know who Emmaline Sutherland truly was. If she did, if the knowledge became public, her aunt would become a pariah in society and it would devastate Dorothy. Even worse, Dorothy could be in trouble with the crown, and
that
would devastate Emmaline.

“So what do you plan on doing with him?” Phin asked.

Images of their heated kiss in Addison’s office instantly came to mind. Emmaline desperately pushed them away for fear Phin would see her thoughts in her expression. He wasn’t a mind reader, but he knew far more about her than anyone else and he was adept at discerning her thoughts—something that certainly served them well in battle, but not now. Now she wanted to keep her kiss with Addison to herself.

Phin was like a brother to her, but it hadn’t always been that way. At one point, it had been Phin who’d kissed her. Their relationship—if you could even call it that—never progressed because they were too much alike. They both liked to have things their way and they discovered they were far better business partners than lovers.

“We can’t keep him locked in the cabin forever,” he said.

“I know.”

“And you can’t take him home with you. Knowing who you are is one thing, taking him to our hideout is another.”

“I
know
,” she snapped, then sighed. “I’m sorry. Things happened quickly and I had to think fast. I couldn’t let him go. Who knows what tales he’d take back to London. Give me some time.”

Phin watched her for several long moments, assessing her, digesting everything she told him with skepticism. Eventually he would figure out Nicholas Addison meant more to her than a threat to her safety and when he did, she couldn’t predict how he would act.

“Where are we going from here?” Phin asked.

Hell, would be her answer. But then she was already in hell, had been for eleven years. Since she was sixteen and her entire world collapsed.

She rubbed her temples. “Home. I want to go home.” More than she ever had before. “But first I want to sleep. I haven’t slept in two days and I’m exhausted.”

Phin turned to go but stopped when Emmaline called his name. “Thank you for rescuing us.”

“You scared me to death, Anne.” His voice grew husky with concern.

“Certainly not the first time.”

A rueful smile tugged at his lips. “We didn’t even know Alphonse was in the area. You think fast on your feet. I’ve always admired that about you.”

“And you’ve always been available to get me out of sticky situations when I happen to fall into them.”

“Yes, well, you’ve done the same for me.”

She laughed. “There is that. Now go. I’m falling asleep on my feet. I’ll be up in a few hours.”

He nodded. “Sleep well, Anne.” He scooped up her gown and shut the door behind him.

Why do you think?

Nicholas lay on a bunk in a cabin that was really a prison, Emmaline’s words circling his mind.
Why do you think?

He fully expected to be in the dank brig of this newest pirate ship after his personal mutiny against
her
. Instead he lay on a soft mattress, his hands untied, a porthole above his bunk allowing meager sunlight to penetrate. He would have preferred the brig than to be indebted to Lady Anne for his accommodations.

He rolled over, his thigh an agony of pain, pushed himself up and placed his feet on the ground. His leg immediately buckled when he stood, and he had to lean against the wall to keep from falling on his face. Slowly he stretched the taut muscle, grimacing at the pain, and took stock of his situation.

He might be in a cabin, but his accommodations were far from luxurious. The bunk was built into the wall. The mattress was made of straw instead of feathers, as his captain’s bunk had been, and there was nothing else in the room. No table. No chair. Not even a chamber pot to use as a weapon.

He limped to the door, tugged on it and swore. Locked.

“Damn it!” He slammed the flat of his palm against the wood and made his way back to his bunk to peer out the porthole. They were heading southwest at a good clip. No land in sight, which was a disappointment but not unexpected. Two sloops followed them. Pirate ships built for speed and heavily armed with twelve guns each that hollowed his stomach with dread.

He understood he’d been tempting fate when he accepted the captain’s position on the
Pride
, but he’d done it anyway. He hadn’t expected to fall victim to pirates, scoffing at the idea of a woman pirate named Lady Anne.

Now he was a prisoner to the elusive woman.

A woman who’d also infiltrated polite society.

A woman who’s body had been pliant against his, whose kisses inflamed him and even now set his teeth on edge at the memory.

’Twas merely a folly
, she’d said of their kiss. And much to his embarrassment, he’d been cut to the quick at her flippant words. As if she kissed a man like that every day. As if what they shared, the heat and the need and the … rightness of it all, was nothing to her.

He growled with the frustration of the remembered kiss that had been much more than
merely a folly
to him, and at his foolishness in believing it was much more to her.