Chapter Thirteen

“Aye, tha’ does it for me,” Mulworthy complained, and tossed his playing cards on the table.

Seated across from him, Griffin stretched back in his chair and worked the kinks from his stiff shoulders. Burning candles added heat to the stifling quarters. Whale oil in the lanterns spilled an unpleasant odor.

Laurent glanced up from the cards fanned in his hand. “Eet surprises me, mon ami, to see you when such a beautiful wife longs for your company, eh?”

Griffin rolled an unpleasant sound in his throat. The men didn’t understand. Playing faro and whist in the captain’s quarters gave him distance from Lily’s allure. Despite the distraction of games and male comradery, she trampled his mind.

“My wife enjoys a few hours of quiet time…for prayer and reflection.” His brows wiggled with humor.

Mulworthy grunted in disbelief.

In truth, it was anyone’s guess what Lily did when she was alone. Each night and morning, he left the cabin, giving her private time for her personal needs. It would be madness to watch her in the act of undressing.

“Ah, much like my own mama.” Laurent played a card. “Every day she prays the rosary.”

Since the wedding, four days ago, his time with Lily had fallen into a predictable pattern. They acted out their roles as a married couple before the crew, they dined together, promenaded on the deck, laughed and flirted. To fill the hours, they discussed literature, science, history, and even ideas on child rearing. And each night his charming wife slept on the bed not five feet from him while he tossed and cursed quietly upon a pallet.

“Your wife is worried about the dark circles beneath your eyes and fears you are taking ill.” Mead’s stiff hair stood in tiny spikes on his head. “She asked my advice about restorative herbs to use in a broth.”

Griffin smiled, recalling the hot mix she’d made for him under the cook’s direction. Anxious to see him returned to good health, she’d fluttered around him like a mother hen, riffling his hair and setting a hand to his brow. At the same time, she glowed and appeared pleased at her culinary accomplishment. Her attentions contented him in ways too unwise for a man in his position. Little did she realize she was the cause of his poor sleep.

All too aware of her captivating magic, he knocked back the last of his brandy. Complex and contradictory, she acted brash and self-assured one moment and in the next, uncertain and short of confidence. Clearly life with Uncle Percy proved deficient in the most important elements—kindness and love. How achingly sad it was that she desired nothing more than the proof she mattered from a father too self-absorbed to care. Tough and sensitive in equal measure, she tugged at his heart in ways he never wanted and certainly didn’t need.

“How long before we reach New York?” he asked.

Mulworthy tipped his head, thinking. “Two weeks, if the winds hold.”

Griffin prayed Mulworthy was correct. The longer he spent in Lily’s company, the greater the risk he would wake one morning a love-sick puppy licking her heels.

“Ah, you win again, mon ami.” Laurent spread his cards on the table. “A better opponent could not be found.” The Frenchman stood, withdrew a frilled hanky tucked in his sleeve and swiped it against his sweaty forehead. “Adieu, gentlemen.” He bowed and yawned into his hand.

Mead gathered the cards and neatly stacked them. “I’ve reading to finish.” He stood and nodded a polite farewell.

“I’ll take my leave, as well.” Griffin started for the door.

“A word, if you please, Mr. Faraday,” said Mulworthy.

A cool undercurrent in his tone piqued Griffin’s curiosity. Nevertheless, he paused, torn between a foolish desire to hurry back to Lily and Mulworthy’s request. The Captain motioned him to join him at the table and poured another brandy.

“How goes it with yer wife?”

Griffin stiffened. He prayed the man didn’t suspect his trickery about the marriage. “What, precisely, do you mean?”

“Dinna get yer knickers in a twist. Politics. Has she shifted to yer side?”

If she had, life would be so much simpler. “Her love for King and country remains unshaken. All my skill and willpower are necessary to act the Loyalist and not argue political points which would reveal my true beliefs.”

Mulworthy pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “‘Tis a pity. She’s been askin’ questions about the shipment—an’ about you.”

A breath of cold air skittered across Griffin’s neck. “To whom does she speak?”

“Sloane, Mead, Church. Anyone she has a mind to talk tae.”

Griffin swore under his breath.

“She steps out alone.”

“Damn.”

“She’s yer wife, man. Ye need tae keep an eye on her.”

He’d tried, but exhausted from wretched nights on the floor, he’d surrendered to afternoon naps—an indulgence he would forgo in the future. His muscles tightened, affronted at the betrayal. She’d taken advantage of him when he’d been asleep and defenseless. Even worse, he’d foolishly lowered his guard and even thought his worst suspicions about her as a spy were unwarranted. Never again.

The Captain’s beady gaze pounded into his face. “Disaster strikes if she talks to the wrong sailor. Ye ken a man can be bought.”

Griffin snorted. “I should think there is little with which to bargain. You took her only money.”

Mulworthy leaned forward, his gun-metal bristly eyebrows cocked in warning. “Payment for all the trouble she caused. Still, she has a few coins. Jewelry, too.” He exhaled a foul breath. “A man canna ignore her obvious assets.”

Griffin narrowed his gaze and dared him to continue.

“Och, man,” he bellowed. “Ye ken what I mean. She’s flauntin’ her looks.”

“I don’t believe it.” If anything, she acted unimpressed, as if she didn’t recognize or credit her beauty. She wouldn’t exploit her attraction for personal gain.

“She hooked ye, dinna she? The men are dyin’ for the feel of a comely lass, the smell of a woman, her taste…”

“Stop it.”

Mulworthy’s laugh was cruel. “Best keep the chit in line, eh. Find out what she’s after.”

On the table, Griffin’s hands fisted. Lily made no secret of her curiosity about Laurent and the shipment. Now she was curious about him. What had he done to raise her suspicions? If she were, in fact, a spy sent to expose him, she didn’t act alone. Someone more experienced in political intrigue, someone well placed in government or within the aristocracy must have put her up to this undercover work. Regardless of whom she worked for, she had tenacity and cunning. He would shore up his defenses against her sweet attentions. It wouldn’t do to forget she’d managed to work her way onto the ship less than twelve hours after meeting him.

“Ye dinna want her tae ken about the guns, eh.”

“She already suspects something is amiss.”

Mulworthy sighed with weariness. “We’ll hang if she can prove it.”

“She won’t betray me.” The boast held a false note of confidence. He figured she’d go haring off to her father as soon as they got to New York. Perhaps even the British authorities. By then he and the guns would be long gone.

Griffin bid the captain goodnight and trudged toward his cabin. He considered how to question Lily without planting more doubt in her head. By the time he stood outside his cabin, a foul mood had him in a tight grip. No longer concerned about her privacy, he flung open the cabin door.

Lily?” The room stood empty. “Damn.”

****

A soulful tune drawn on a fiddle drew Griffin toward the bow of the ship. The heaviness in the air suggested rain on the near horizon. Still, moonlight fell across the murky water. Lantern light spilled over four men hunkered around a compact brazier, their rough faces lit by the simmering coals. A lover of music, Lily stood at the rail, too close to the sailors for Griffin’s comfort. He paused in the shadows, behind the main mast, keen to discover her objective.

The murmur of conversation floated over the constant creak and flutter of ship and sails and the repetitive slap of waves against the hull. Lily spoke to the men, but a sudden stiff breeze chased away her words. Then she laughed. Typically, he delighted in the sound. Tonight, it tore at him. She couldn’t be so naïve as to think it safe to consort with these men. What drove her? Was she angling for more information about him? When Tubbs joined her, saying words he couldn’t catch, Griffin felt a cold shiver up his spine.

“I don’t wish to dance,” she replied with a head shake.

“Sure you do.” The hulking fellow held out his arms. “Just follow my steps.”

Every muscle in Griffin’s body tightened against the urge to rush ahead and bat away the man’s hands. Tubbs had every reason to despise Lily. A show of desire for her company meant one nasty thing.

“It’s conversation I seek and not dance.” Caution threaded Lily’s voice.

Palms turned upward, Tubbs flashed a cheeky grin. “I’m all for obligin’ you.” The crude insinuation sickened Griffin. The sailor edged closer. “I’m good company,” he boasted in a low rumble of improper intent. “The ladies all tell me so.”

“I’ve no doubt,” she replied, obliging his vanity. “It’s only a bit of information I require.”

The fiddler broke into a new tune. Tubbs gestured for her to step further away from the music. Lily foolishly complied. The two stood close enough for the man to grab her.

Griffin cursed silently.

“Are you healed since the flogging?” Lily asked.

A behemoth, Tubbs inched closer prompting her to step backwards. “Ah, don’t be on about the past.” He toyed with her and pretended she wielded the power when in one swipe of his massive arm, he could hurt her. Griffin’s hands fisted, yet instinct suggested the sailor wouldn’t act—not yet, not until he discovered what Lily wanted.

“How long have you worked on this ship, Mr. Tubbs?”

“Two years.”

“Long enough to hold some position of authority.”

Tubbs chortled with misplaced pride. “Not as much as some, but I manage.”

“In your experience, is it customary while at sea to take on cargo and passengers from another vessel?”

The nerves prickled at the base of Griffin’s neck.

Tubbs tilted his curly head, delaying his answer, as if reluctant. “The captain takes whatever business he can.”

“What was in the cargo delivered by the pirate? Gold, brandy…guns?”

“Ssssh.” Bug-eyed, Tubbs darted his head about and peered into the shadows. “I heard a noise.”

Griffin suspected it might have been his gnashing teeth.

“I’ve a bit of money for your troubles, Mr. Tubbs.”

The man’s ugly scorn added more creases to his leathery face. “Took money from you once. You saw what happened.”

“I’m sorry about the flogging. Truly. However, you needn’t worry about speaking to me. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Oh?” Griffin materialized from the shadows. “You think to keep your spying a secret on a ship?”

Lily swirled around, her mouth a perfect oval.

Griffin kept his voice even, terse. “I’ve heard more than enough spoken between you two.”

Tubbs glowered like a snarling dog.

It took only a moment for Lily to overcome her shock. “You…you…”

“Uh-ah,” Griffin warned and forestalled any possibility of hearing a nasty epithet thrust at him. “Please leave us, Mr. Tubbs.”

Anger rippled palpably through the man’s taut body. “She owes me. For my troubles.”

“Trouble you walked into with your eyes open and your pockets greedy. Now go before trouble comes again. Mulworthy won’t hesitate to use the lash.”

Tubbs bunched his ham-fisted hands into a weapon. Griffin replied with legs braced apart, body primed to fight. He waited and willed his breath to slow while the man worked his lip, seeming to consider his options.

After a moment, Tubbs made a grating, dismissive noise directed at Lily. “Keep the money bi…” He caught himself before he made a serious error in judgment. To call a woman a bitch was so insulting, Griffin would have no choice but to crack his lumpy face.

“This is my wife.” He spoke in a voice hard as iron. “You will speak to her with respect.” He held the man’s stony gaze. “Better yet, never talk to her again.”

Unmasked fury flushed the sailor’s skin. “Stay out of my way, woman.” He jabbed a thick finger in her direction. When she flinched, pleasure lit his face. Before Griffin could throttle him, the ass stormed away, bypassing his speechless cohorts before descending below.

Griffin faced Lily. “You were saying, wife…” He managed to sound blasé in spite of the tension churning just below the surface. When she had the gall to spin away from him, he caught her elbow and snapped her about as if she were tethered to the end of a rope. His breath wafted out in angry waves.

Defiance stiffened her spine. She raised her chin. “I want to go below.”

“Fine,” he ground out between clenched teeth. What he had to say wasn’t pretty. Best to deliver the words in private.

With an angry huff, she wrenched away and stomped off. He followed at a close distance, his body rigid as she swept down the ladder steps, pointedly ignoring him. The lantern light pitched the cabin in a subtle hue. Lily marched to the far side of the room, twirled around at the windows, and arms crossed beneath her breasts, glared at him.

Amazing.

Back to the door, he stood as far away from her as possible. Chest and gut tight, it took considerable effort for him to speak calmly. “Of all people, why Tubbs? You can’t be so naïve to think he’d want to help you.” Rape was more the sailor’s style.

“I wanted to apologize about the flogging.”

Unbelievable.

She’d sought information far more dangerous than the sailor’s good graces. “You acted like the sweet lamb to a smiling jackal. Kind words of apology don’t impress some men, no matter how innocent and appealing the apologizer.”

She arched a dubious brow. “A matter familiar to you?”

He ignored her sarcasm. Rather than stomp about the room as he yearned to do, he advanced to the table. “Why is it so important to know what’s stowed in the hold?”

When she didn’t answer, he shouted, “Tell me.”

Her nostrils flared. “Why should I tell you when it’s you who’s filled with secrets?”

His jaw fell, denial on his lips. “At the moment, only your actions concern me. You’re a woman obsessed. What is it you hope to discover?”

Avoiding his gaze, she studied the planked floor then blew out a puff of air, rippling the wisps of hair at her forehead. “If I answer, will you answer a question for me?”

The girl intended to work him. A favor for a favor. Incredible.

“You aren’t in any position to bargain.”

She glanced away tapping her foot with a dogged stubbornness he couldn’t bear. With a weary eye roll, he said, “You are so…” At his tone, she visibly stiffened. “Exasperating,” he concluded drumming his fingers against the leg of his breeches.

“So I’ve been told often enough.” Hurt rang in her words. She clasped her arms around her like a shield.

Sadly, the defensive stance would offer little protection. He felt churlish for caring. More astounding, he had an absurd notion to tuck her into his arms.

In fighting form, her nose lifted. “And you are—”

“Careful,” he warned in a steady voice. “I don’t want to fight. I simply want to understand your perplexing actions. If truth is so important to you then be truthful with me.” It seemed ironic to expect her honesty when his work for the army disallowed him the same freedom. He snorted mirthlessly. “Do me the honor and trust me instead of some boor like Tubbs.”

In silence, she skimmed her hands along the folds of her gown. With each breath, her chest rose and fell in a hypnotic rhythm, and he fought a desire to reach for her.

“Once,” she announced and yanked him back to hard reality. “I told you of my persistence. It’s a fault of mine, some would say. Yet, when a question sticks in my head, I need to find the answer—especially when those around me seem intent to hide the evidence. You see, I don’t believe the story about the lace.”

He threw up a hand. “You don’t have to believe. It’s not your concern. And what difference does it make whether it’s lace, brandy, or bawdy trinkets?”

She sidled over to the desk, glided a finger around the edge of a book, seeming unaware of the effect she had over him. “Perhaps it makes no difference to you. Yet the truth matters.”

His lips pinched. Damn the political circumstances that prevented his honesty. Yet it would be foolish to let down his guard again. Some truths came at a very dear price. Lives and the burden of freedom relied upon his discretion and secrecy.

“You solicit information about me. Why? Did Warwick put you up to this?”

“David?” Her brow creased with irritation. “Of course not.”

Her surprise and offense appeared genuine. No, she didn’t spy for her beloved David, he concluded and cursed the jealousy licking at his heart. “If not Warwick, who do you work for?”

Her lips parted in disbelief. “You don’t understand me at all, do you?” Disappointment blazed across her face. “I’m inquisitive by nature. I like to probe and comprehend.”

“A scientist,” he muttered, skeptical of her explanation. “If you’re so curious about me, why not ask me rather than query Mead, or Church, or God forbid, Tubbs?”

Color rose up her neck. Her gaze darted to the side where the desk sat. Seconds passed. “You’re a closed book.”

His molars ground together as he fought an urge to yank her into his arms. Intimacy was much more desirable between them than suspicion. Do not touch her. On purpose, he picked up an empty cup from the table, turned it in his hand, seeking distraction and a moment to refocus. “What would you like to know?”

Hands behind her back, she leaned against the wall, her bearing rigid as she probed and scrutinized him.

Jaw tight, he drummed the tabletop. “I work for my uncle in trade. I write. I’ve told you about my family. We’ve discussed all manner of topics. What more can I say?”

She sat upon the neatly ordered bed covers. “You tell me things you might tell any stranger.”

The rebuke was a sharp prick in his side. Yet why be irritated when the comment was true? “So you judge my opinions and personal revelations as inadequate?”

“What a cruel thing to suggest. I am your wife. You can tell me everything.”

Everything? She spoke with the certainty secrets did exist as though she believed he had things to hide. “A wife in name only,” he countered, out-of-sorts and disliking the direction of the conversation.

“How can I forget when I hear constant reminders?”

“You set the terms of the agreement.” What was he doing? To use one dangerous topic to avoid another was sheer stupidity. Recklessness drove him on. “Well?”

She tilted her head while a mix of unreadable emotions danced over her face. As if on the precipice of a major proclamation, she licked her lips. “Maybe I’ve changed my mind.”

Something inside him jumped.

In the muted glow of lamplight, she gleamed with challenge, a coy allure that left him slack-jawed. Any reservations and doubts about her vanished in an instant. In answer to her invitation, he stepped toward her. When she flinched, he stopped abruptly. It was only the slightest gesture, yet significant in its meaning. “Ah,” he murmured with a swell of frustration. “You don’t mean it.”

“Perhaps not.” Her voice held a trace of defeat. She fiddled nervously with a strand of hair. “What can I say other than I am a stranger to myself these days—a constant wonder.” Sighing, she picked at a pillow thread, her next words barely above a whisper. “My head is muddled when I’m near you.”

Then stay away from me.

He considered winging it topside and leaving her to sort through her uncertain desires. Separation would serve them both well. He scrubbed a hand down his thigh. His restless muscles twitched with an impulse to touch her. He wanted her stretched out beneath him on the bed.

Hell and be damned.

He sauntered closer and the swift flare of her pupils, proof of her attraction to him, satisfied him immensely.

“Let’s play a game, shall we?” Against her half-hearted protests, he tugged her to her feet. “It’s called One Kiss.”

One kiss was all he would ask of her. Ever.

Before she could utter another sound, he kissed her. She tasted of sweet wine and forbidden urges. Her lips were velvet in the sun. He teased her as a seasoned hunter toys with his prey. When her tongue circled his in a sensual dance, a pulsating charge tore through him. He drew her tighter against him, relishing the curves slipping beneath his hands. Fingers dipped inside her bodice and he knew a bounteous pleasure when she trembled at his caress.

A desire to lay her upon the bed and sink into her sweet body raged inside. Aware of his ebbing control, he tore his mouth away. Her mewl of frustration echoed his ragged breathing. Willful, beguiling, she gaped at him. Unable to stop, he came back for more. His mouth slid hungrily across the arch of her neck and nuzzled at the base of her throat, smelling and tasting.

“Lily.” His voice rumbled against her hot skin.

“Hmmm?”

“One kiss and nothing more.” When he released her, his hands were shaking.

Her lustrous hair curled at her frowning brow. “One kiss? What a silly game.”

He skimmed his thumb across her rosy lips, tempted to taste her again. His body fought a battle to place hands on her in ways no other man on this ship would dare. It was wrong to tease and expect her surrender to passion when she was undecided and susceptible.

“Why did you kiss me, Griffin?”

Because I want you. He raked fingers through his hair and realized he’d lost its leather binding. “Because I’m weak.”

“I don’t believe it.” She reached out a hand, paused and then dropped it at her side. “Is it weak to desire?”

He scoffed. “There’s a right time and a wrong time. A man needs to respect the difference.”

“Is now the wrong time?”

“It would be unwise to give in to passion. We are several weeks from New York and obligated to go our separate ways. It’s what we agreed upon.”

“Oh.” She lowered her head. “I see.”

A kick in the butt wouldn’t be punishment enough for his behavior. Nor would it lessen his remorse when it came to a vulnerable and inexperienced woman. A man besotted with lust was the last thing she needed.

“Thank you for the reminder of our impending annulment.”

The hostility in her words confused him. Surely, she understood and accepted the terms of their agreement. It was what she wanted, after all.

Face drawn, she picked up her nightgown from the corner of the bed. “I’m tired.”

“It’s late.” He accepted the dismissal. “I’ll leave you to prepare for sleep.”

Still, he didn’t leave.

There was an air of resignation as she lifted her hands above her head and removed what pins remained in her hair. Hypnotized by her sinuous movements, he stood paralyzed. His fingers twitched. He imagined what it would feel like to undress her. No. No. Opposing desires to stay or leave battled. Five lengthy, tortuous steps brought him to the door.

“Griffin.” Entreaty and uncertainty flitted in her voice.

He paused, focused on the door, his hand gripped around the knob like a lifeline.

“Good-night, Lily.”