I’ve moved up in your estimation, then.”
“Hardly.” She stalked down the corridor, the light
flickering off her gown. “I want a word with you.”
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He raised his brows. “Only a word? What, no
dagger hidden in the folds of your dress? I was certain
you were only out for my blood, ma belle.”
In the shadowy corridor, he had difficulty seeing
her face. Even as she moved closer, he could discern
only that her expression was cloaked. “I will have
your blood, pirate.” Her voice was as hard as the
marble surrounding them. “But first I’d like my
property back.”
“Do I have something of yours?” he drawled.
“My sword.” Her voice was ice, her mouth once
again thin and tight.
“Ah.” He drew out a cigar, stepped toward one of the
candles, and lit it. “It’s a beautiful piece. Handcrafted?”
Behind him Maine cleared his throat, and Bastien
waved at him. “Go ahead, Mr. Maine. I shall see you
back aboard shortly.”
“Yes, Captain.” His boots clicked as he marched away.
Bastien drew on the cigar and faced his cabin girl
again. Her eyes were hard emeralds. “I noticed you
didn’t send him to fetch my sword.”
He blew out smoke. “Why would I intentionally
arm you again? No, Miss Russell. I think we are all
much safer when you are weaponless, though your
eyes are shooting flaming arrows at me this moment.
You have dangerous eyes.”
She shook her head and scowled. “Do statements like
that charm other ladies, pirate? They don’t charm me.”
He shrugged, drew on his cigar again. In fact, state-
ments like that did charm other ladies, but he didn’t
imagine they would work on his cabin girl. In fact,
he was glad that they didn’t. “I hadn’t expected to
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see you in Gibraltar. Your father’s ship isn’t usually
assigned to these waters.”
She smiled. “I see in my absence you’ve done
your research.”
“I like to know something about my enemies.”
She glanced back over her shoulder, toward the
ballroom. He supposed she would have to return to
her father, and he actually found himself disappointed
their conversation would end. “Are we still enemies?”
he asked.
“Oh, most assuredly.” She stepped closer, looked
him directly in the eye. “I made you a promise, pirate,
and I will keep it.”
“For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, “I didn’t intend
to kill Captain Bowers. It was an unfortunate incident.”
She stiffened, and he saw her clench her gloved
fists. “An unfortunate incident? Is that what you call
assault and murder? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,
knowing you’re a pirate.”
“Hmm. Privateer. Would it make any difference if
I told you Captain Bowers engaged my ship? I didn’t
go after him.”
He could see in her face she hadn’t considered that
possibility. She opened her mouth, closed it again, and
swallowed. “That’s not the report I was given.”
“And who gave you the report? An impartial
observer or one of the men from the Valor?”
She notched her sharp chin up. “I have no reason to
doubt the report I was given or the man who gave it me.”
“And every reason to doubt me.” He tossed the
butt of the cigar on the floor and dashed the last
embers with the toe of his boot.
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“Of course! You’re a lying, thieving, murdering
pirate. You have no sense of honor, of honesty. You—”
“I see you haven’t done your research in our
absence. You still know nothing about me.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Do you have
my sword?”
He thought of the object hanging in his cabin.
“Then that makes you a thief. Did you kill Captain
Bowers?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Then that
makes you a murderer. Do you attack ships on the
high seas, confiscate their cargo, and sell it for your
own profit? Then that makes you a pirate. Do you
deny all of these accusations? That makes you a liar.”
“How old are you, Miss Russell?”
She blinked, seemingly taken back by the question.
“Why?”
“Because your view of the world is startlingly naïve.
It would be charming in a girl of eleven or twelve, but
as my sources put you closer to twenty, I think we
might safely call it ignorance.”
Her jaw dropped, and he could see her reach for
her side where her sword was absent.
He nodded at her. “You see, ma belle, better if you
are unarmed.” A movement at the other end of the
corridor caught his attention, and he squinted to see
through the shadows.
“But I won’t be unarmed forever, and when you’re
least expecting it, I’ll be there to slit your—”
“Shh.” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into
a shadow.
“What are you doing? Release m—”
He clamped a hand over her mouth, effectively
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silencing her. For his pains, he received an elbow jab
to the abdomen and a slipper thrust down hard on his
foot. But as she stiffened after the impact, he decided
she received the worse part of the blow. Soft slippers
were not made for warfare. He wrapped his other
arm around her middle to keep her arms at her sides
and bent close to her ear. “I’m not kidnapping you ,
mademoiselle. I need you to be silent a moment.”
She said something against his hand, which he
took as a refusal because she began to writhe and
struggle against him anew. The men at the far end
of the corridor were drawing closer, and he had no
option but to drag her into a nearby alcove. He did so,
ignoring her flailing until he had her out of sight. Using
his body to anchor her, he peered around the corner.
Bon Dieu! He hadn’t been mistaken. It was Juan
Victor de los Santos. Jourdain called him El Santo,
The Saint. He’d been serving with Jourdain for as long
as Bastien had known the man. And where he went,
Jourdain could always be found. So his information
had been correct! Jourdain was in Gibraltar.
A sharp kick to his shin reminded him he had other
concerns at the moment. He ducked back into the
alcove. “Be still for one moment.” She kicked him
again. “Merde! ” With his arms covering her mouth
and holding her wrists still, he had no way to contain
her feet other than to press against her. She obj
ected
immediately, twisting her face back and forth and
attempting to cry for help. The effect was that he
quickly became intimately acquainted with her lovely
breasts. She must have bound them quite tightly to
pass as a lad before.
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“Stop moving,” he growled, attempting to ignore
the warmth the motion of those breasts was beginning
to ignite. The last thing he wanted was to be spotted
by El Santo. If Jourdain knew Bastien was searching
for him, and given the lengths Jourdain had gone to
conceal himself, he probably did, Bastien knew the
only way to find the Barbary pirate was to follow El
Santo undetected.
He risked one last glimpse around the corner and
swore again. El Santo had not gone into the ball as
Bastien had anticipated. Instead, he was coming this
way. In a moment, he would pass Bastien and the
struggling Miss Russell. Bastien looked down at the
woman, and even in the darkness he could see murder
in her eyes. “Je suis désolé,” he murmured, lowering his
mouth to hers.
He kissed her passionlessly, more intent on shielding
their identities from El Santo and the men with him.
He wanted them to see nothing more than a couple
engaged in a romantic rendezvous.
A somewhat tumultuous rendezvous, as his cabin
girl was fighting him with everything she had. She was
petite, but she was feisty and strong. It took all of his
concentration to keep her under control. He might
have had a moment to enjoy the kiss—she still tasted
of cherries—but she bit his lip, and he had to suppress
a bark of pain.
He heard the men passing, heard the remark,
spoken in Arabic, about the lovers, and then their
boots clicked away. He drew back from his cabin girl,
careful to cover her mouth again before she could
protest. He peered out from the alcove again and saw
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El Santo turn a corner down the hall. Immediately, he
released the woman and started after him.
At least he tried. The little hellion stuck out her
boot and caught his ankle. He would have sprawled
across the floor if he hadn’t caught himself. He tossed
her an impatient frown. “I don’t have time for your
games, chérie. But if you’re good, I promise to play
with you again later.”
“Bastard. What the hell is going on? What was that
about?” She pointed to the alcove where he’d just
been embracing her.
He glanced impatiently at the corner down the
corridor. “Once again I succumbed to your many
charms, mademoiselle. I assure you it will not happen
again.” He took her hand, kissed it. “Now I must
be away.”
He started after El Santo, but she was right behind
him. Merde! But he did not want her following him,
and every moment he spent with her meant El Santo
was getting farther away. “Isn’t your father in some
need of assistance?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, so now you want to be rid
of me. Is there something you don’t want me to see?”
He stopped himself from glancing over his
shoulder again, but she must have caught the move-
ment nonetheless.
“What are you looking for? Who are you looking for?”
He gritted his teeth and tried to remain calm. He
had to get away from her. “Why don’t I explain
everything tomorrow? I shall call on you and your
father in the morning. I’ll bring your sword.”
Her eyebrows winged up. “You must want to be
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rid of me quite badly if you’re willing to go to all
that trouble.”
“No, but…” He could see she didn’t believe him.
He might as well stop wasting time and tell the truth.
“Very well. I spotted someone I have been looking
for, someone I need to see very badly. Now if you’ll
excuse me…” He started down the corridor, but she
was right by his side. At this point, he had no choice
but to continue with her beside him, else he would
lose any chance of finding El Santo again.
“Who is this man?”
He gave her an impatient look and continued walking.
“Oh, perhaps it’s a woman.”
They were nearing the corner, and Bastien did
not know what he would find when he rounded
it. “It’s no one you need concern yourself with. I
assure you.”
“Oh, but I want to concern myself, pirate. After all,
you did say I needed to do more research.”
The smug look on her face devastated the last of
his patience. He pushed her up against the wall, disap-
pointed to see the action didn’t seem to faze her at all.
“This isn’t a game, Miss Russell. This is serious. Now
go back to your father and your ball.”
“And you can continue to treat me like a child,”
she said, green eyes searing him, “but you’re wasting
your time, and the man you’re seeking is getting away.
Now, who are we following?”
A hundred thoughts raced through his mind; most
centered on how to be rid of her, if not for good, for
a good long time. His hands itched to circle her neck
and throttle her. She was like a plague he couldn’t
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seem to be rid of—one who infested him at the most
inopportune times.
Unfortunately, she was right. He was out of time.
“Stay out of my way. If you can’t keep up or get into
trouble, don’t look to me for assistance.”
She sneered at him. “As though I would need your
assistance, pirate.”
He was about to release her but leaned close
instead. A hint of cherries teased his senses, but he
resolutely resisted inhaling more deeply. “And if you
do anything to jeopardize my plans—anything at all—
I’ll make sure you are very, very sorry.”
She tilted her head coyly, and the movement of her
hair stirred up the cherry scent again. “I like this side
of you. The desperate, bargaining side.”
On an oath, he released her and started after El
Santo. He rounded the corner and spotted the exte-
rior door at the far end. There were several doors
throughout the corridor, undoubtedly leading to
various rooms. He would have to try each, a time-
consuming and potentially dangerous process, or he
could go straight for the exterior door.
“I think the exterior door,” his cabin girl said deci-
sively. “The rooms in this hallway are used for storage
and by the servants.”
Again, she was correct. He’d seen servants
coming
and going from this corridor earlier in the evening.
But it galled him to acknowledge she was correct.
Instead, he stalked down the corridor, aware she was
right on his heels. Aware, too, she had to scamper to
keep up with his long strides.
Compared to the corridor behind them, this
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hallway was spartan and dark. A few guttering candles
sputtered in dark wall recesses, casting shadows over
the bare floors and unadorned walls.
He reached the exterior door and tried the handle.
It was unlocked, and he pushed it gingerly open.
Merde. No sign of El Santo.
He leaned back, prepared to order Miss Russell to
return to her father, carry her all the way, if necessary,
when the shot exploded and he felt a hot spray of
wooden splinters. Belatedly, he ducked then glanced
up at the hole in the wooden door.
If he hadn’t turned back…
If he’d been standing just a fraction to the right…
“What are you doing!”
He felt her hand claw at his shoulder, then she
reached past him and pulled the door closed.
“Someone’s shooting at you! Get down!” she cried,
falling back against the wall as another lead ball hit the
door, sending a shock reverberating through Bastien.
Bastien clenched his fist. El Santo had seen him
after all. But Jourdain must be frantic to avoid Bastien
if El Santo was willing to kill him so openly. And that
made Bastien all the more eager to get his hands on
the man—on both men. He reached into his coat and
pulled out his pistol. A swish of green satin beside him
drew his attention in time to see his cabin girl hike
her skirts and draw a dagger from a belt strapped to
her thigh.
A quite shapely thigh…
He blinked. “Put that away, and go back to your father.”
She shook her head and flipped the dagger into
throwing position. The move was smooth and
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practiced, and Bastien would have liked to see if she
could throw and how accurately. Judging by her skills
with a sword, he had a feeling her aim was deadly.
“Get out of here,” he ordered.
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Yes, it is…”
But she was looking over his shoulder, down the
corridor through which they’d come. “No, it’s not.