Page 12 of Any Duke in a Storm

Lisbeth’s teeth ground together in sheer fury. Did the bloody man have a death wish? Not that she needed to explain things to anyone, but she enjoyed indulging in finer things here and there, and a lady’s bedroom was one of the few places she was free to be herself. As a spy, she spent so much time living the lives of other people that it took effort to carve out space to remember whoshewas. The rich navy velvet brocade of the drapes on her custom-built bed was one such indulgence, hinting at the core of the woman who currently lived in the skin of a fierce, ruthless captain.

“Are you upset? It was really quite beautiful. A bordello fit for a queen.”

Her fingers jolted. She really was going to skewer him and leave him for the pickpockets and crows. “No, I’m not upset. I’m trying not to teach you a bloody lesson inthe middle of a public square and trounce you senseless,” she snapped.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Viking.” The fool had the audacity to grin.

“Is everything a joke to you?”

“No, but life on the high seas is a lot easier with a sense of humor.” His gaze tracked over her person. “You have blood on your cheek.”

She swiped at it with her coat sleeve, but though she could feel wetness on her face, she had no idea where the splotch was. “That tends to happen in a brawl.”

“Here, you missed it. Let me.” Before Lisbeth could protest or move, a warm calloused thumb was sliding along her jaw from the corner of her lip to the base of her ear. Heat sparked under his touch. The contact was soft and much too tender, making her brows hit her hairline. She backed away and his hand hovered for a moment before dropping back to his side. For once, he had nothing clever or funny to say, only stood there staring at her with a pair of suddenly unreadable eyes.

“Who in the nine hells is this, then?” a young voice chirped as a gangly mix of arms and legs ran over to them, panting with exertion. “New crew?” Narina’s curious eyes rounded as she glanced between them and then she gasped. “Oh, is he a lover? There’s that look about the two of you like you’re either going to stab or shag one another. Trust me, I see it in the tavern all the time. Let a girl know if you are going to fight or f—”

“Nari!” Lisbeth blinked out of her thrall at theinterruption, turning to glower at Narina, who thankfully was unharmed. At least, her loose lips seemed no worse for wear. Smalls had seen her to safety the minute Lisbeth’s dagger had found its mark, though a part of her was wishing that he’d ferried the curious, too-observant menace far away.

“I was going to say ‘flirt,’ Bess,” the girl said with a much-too-cheeky grin that suggested otherwise before turning to Saint. “Who’re you?”

The sailing master sketched a jaunty bow. “Bonjour, mademoiselle, Raphael Saint at your service. My good friends know me as Saint.” He glanced at Lisbeth and winked, voice lowering for Lisbeth’s ears only. “Though my special friends call me Sinner.”

Oh dear God, Lisbeth was going to vomit.Whosaid such ludicrous things? “And everyone else knows him as Jackass,” she said loudly.

Narina collapsed into giggles. Studying him, she cocked her head. “Wait. I know you.”

If Lisbeth wasn’t looking at Saint—or wasn’t well taught in the art of observation—she would have missed the way his brow wrinkled slightly and the way his spine snapped to attention as if suddenly aware of a possible hazard. Interesting.

She’d already suspected Saint had secrets, but it was clear that he wasn’t as oblivious or as drunk as he seemed. A man in his cups wouldneverhave been able to finagle such a precise shot from such an awkward angle. She could barely see the square from the alley they occupied. Intruth, it had been a miracle that she wasn’t dead. Lisbeth supposed she should be grateful, but it irked her to offer him the satisfaction. Although, shame filled her, too. She was always generous with her praise when credit was due.

“Do you now?” he drawled to Narina, that obsequious expression back in force. A certain act, Lisbeth determined, to draw away from the fact that he was exceptionally alert.

Narina nodded and rubbed her nose. “When Mama was alive. You were meatier then. I remember you leaving extra coin for each of the servers in the tavern and paying what you owed with enough money to tide us over for months.” Lisbeth blinked at that as Narina nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes. That’s why I remember your face. You weren’t stingy like most of the ratbags who passed through Bridgetown. Even Mama was smitten, and everyone in town knows that no one with a bad mind could get past her.” She laughed and her brown cheeks went dusky. “The serving girls always talked about you.”

“Generous, charming,andhandsome make for a winning combination,” he quipped with a warm smile that seemed astonishingly genuine, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. Lisbeth especially did not like the way that open smile hit her right in the chest, and she wasn’t even the intended recipient.

“And full of self-adoration, clearly,” she snapped and then focused on the matter at hand. She took Narina’s arm, ignoring the presence of the infuriating rogue. “Don’teven think about skirting the subject. Why was that cad saying you were his daughter? What’s going on here?”

Narina’s small shoulders lifted wearily, the bit of spark that had possessed her a minute ago fading. Strain weighed down on her slight frame. “There’s trouble, Bess.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“The worst kind.”

Trouble wasn’t uncommon in small fishing villages like these. Whether from hidden contraband, smuggled goods, or exploitation of the locals, danger and hardship were always present in the islands. Capitalists had embedded their greedy fingers into the core of the Caribbean, and the sense of entitlement was pervasive. People thought they could take with no consequence.

It was the main reason Lisbeth was so focused on catching Dubois. He wasn’t some philanthropic smuggling king. He was a criminal who didn’t care how many lives he snuffed out or stomped upon to make himself richer. In truth, he was a leech. A parasite, whose reach and power needed to be eradicated with minimal casualties before that became an impossible feat.

She nodded to Smalls, Estelle, and the rest of her crew who stood wary and vigilant with weapons at the ready, despite the fact that the market had already gone back to normal as if scuffles like this happened every day of the week. Flashmen and cutpurses were already snatching whatever they could take of value off the fallen assailants.

Lisbeth’s eyes narrowed on the lowlife who’d come sovery close to ending her life and felt an uncomfortable ripple chase down her spine. She’d danced with Death before. Many times. In her line of work, it was inevitable. But this felt unnervingly real, like she’d escaped a shallow grave by the skin of her teeth. By the sheer luck—and ithadto be luck—of the man who stood opposite her. No one could shoot around corners. Bloody hell, was she losing her edge?

Now she owed Saint.Damn it!She hated owing anyone anything.

Especially a pirate who appeared to hide behind a mask as elaborate as hers.

“Let’s go back to the tavern,” she said. She glanced over at the sailing master. She’d planned to ask around for a trustworthy arms dealer, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and she needed to figure out what was going on with Narina. “Is your man with the ammunitions reliable?” she asked him. Saint gave a short nod. Lisbeth beckoned to Smalls and thrust a pouch latched to her waist into his hands. “See what you can arrange for gunpowder, shells, and round shot. We leave once I make sure Narina’s safe.”

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