Page 6 of Any Duke in a Storm

He’d rather take his chances with the eels in the bay.

“Well, this has been—” The reply was ripped from his mouth by an explosion that lit up the darkness and made part of the dock crash into the ocean and a wave of debris flood toward them. He planted his feet to keep his balanceeven as shouts from the wharf in the distance followed when red and orange flames barreled upward into the night sky. “What the hell was that?” he shouted.

“Looks like a ship or half of the harbor!” one of the deckhands yelled as everyone scattered back to their posts. Raphael stared toward the south end of the wharves.

Merde. Were thosehisships?

The quartermaster sprinted to the top deck and squinted through a narrow looking glass, but it was too far to tell and they were already nearly out of the cove. “I heard rumors of the revenue cutters sniffing around, Cap’n,” one of the boatswains hollered. “The customs house has been clamping down on smugglers, following ships and seizing their cargo. Could be them.”

Raphael clenched his jaw. No, not the cutters. His fucking uncle. Rage filled him, slow and savage. That sniveling, cowardly bastard would pay.

The dragon of a captain didn’t reply, her lips tight as she peered toward the fire. Something like satisfaction burned in her eyes, fists clenching at her sides, but she didn’t react to the billow of flames in the distance. “Get those boilers lit,” she ordered, and the remaining crew scurried to do her bidding. “Sails up. Loosen the braces. If there’s trouble, the faster we’re out of here, the better.” She turned to him, a wide grin on her face that was completely at odds with the violence in her stare. That broad, guileless smile should have been his first warning that he was in deep shit. “Time to show me what you can do.”

Raphael had a decision to make. One that did not leadhim to jumping ship, not if that would put him back in irons. But it was obvious this captain did not want him here and he would be fish food if he didn’t play his cards right. He glanced down at her, frowning at her ferocious expression. He could always predict a storm on the horizon, and this woman made a roaring hurricane look like light rain.

He raked a hand through his loose hair and cursed under his breath. He could do this.

Honestly, how bad could it be?

Lisbeth wanted to shove the annoyance of a brute off the side, but she had no choice now. Sheneededhim to navigate the waters and this particular reef, especially now at night, and as fast as possible. This southwestern coast of Tobago and this specific part of the inlet were treacherous. She’d seen more than one ship torn up on the lethal five reef flats that lay beneath the seemingly placid waters of the cove.

She could take her chances, Lisbeth supposed, but she wouldn’t risk the lives of her crew because her instincts about the man were firing. She could already tell that he had an ego on him, just by the smirk on his face, the slight growl of command in his voice, and that overconfident stance. This was a man used to being obeyed, not one who took orders. He was amiable and deferential because he wanted to be, not because that was his nature. He was going to be trouble; she could feel it in her bones.

And he reeked like a dockside tavern, which brought its own problems.

“Lift the aft sail, hard-a-starboard into the wind for a spell,” the smelly pirate commanded Estelle, and Lisbeth watched as her quartermaster didn’t hesitate to obey the directive from her position at the helm. Estelle wasn’t one to trust easily, but for the moment it seemed like their new crewmate knew what he was doing. Time would tell. Something that they were in short supply of.

Faint shouts from the shore reached her ears. The fires had died down after the initial explosions. It would be a while before either of those ships were seaworthy, if they didn’t sink outright. She didn’t have any regrets. Well, other than not meeting the elusive Captain Prince, but that was a goal for another day. Lisbeth climbed to the quarterdeck of the stern and didn’t relax until they’d successfully cleared the reefs and were out to sea.

“Did I convince you of my skills, Captain?” a deep voice said from behind her.

“Well enough, I suppose,” she conceded. “We’re not aground on a reef or at the bottom of the bay.”

“So hard to please,” he replied, that maddening lopsided smile still in place. “I see I have my work cut out for me.”

Lisbeth whirled. “I beg your pardon?”

That smile faltered, curiosity glinting in his eyes at her choice of words, and she wanted to kick herself for sounding so missish and proper. A lowbrow sea captain would never speak thus, but something about him had herrattled. He was no one! A dock rat that Estelle had taken pity on, who’d been scheming for a ride out of Tobago.

“Youbegmy pardon? Somehow, I can’t fathom you begging for anything,” he remarked. “Rather the reverse—voicing your orders and expecting them to be obeyed.”

God damn her eyes, why did everything he said sound like it held a double meaning? Lisbeth shoved the instant vision of him on his knees in wanton supplication from her mind. Bloody hell, she was nonsensical. It was his mouth, she decided. Even closed and silent, its wicked curve and perpetually quirked corner edges conveyed indecent promises of pleasure.

Her brow arched. “It’s an expression, nothing more. Or perhaps you intend to be the grammar master instead of the sailing master?”

A pair of thick eyelashes dipped, though that aggravating smirk seemed to deepen. “I can be anything you wish, Captain.”

Staring out to sea, Lisbeth scowled and ignored the way that rumbling baritone crept over her senses like a balmy ocean wind. It had been a long time since she felt attraction to a man. Not even her old retired spymaster partner and former husband of convenience, the Duke of Thornbury, had held her interest for long. Their past, very brief interactions had been of mutual accord as opposed to any true, grand passion, and he was happily remarried now.

The new Duchess of Thornbury was a spectacular woman. In fact, Lisbeth had joked to Thornbury thatshe could have easily been smitten with her, given half a chance. Alas, the duchess was as madly in love with her husband as he was with her, and Lisbeth could only hope to find such happiness for herself one day with a partner she could tolerate long enough. She exhaled a huff of amusement. One day when Charles Dubois was behind bars, at least, which at this rate might be never.

Two years ago, she’d met Estelle in a fancy dress shop in New York. She’d never tell the woman, who’d gone from dressmaker to shipmate to lover to trusted friend, but Lisbeth had pursued her on purpose. Per her information from the Treasury Department, Estelle had sailed to Europe on several ships, both as a sailor and dressmaker, and had a wealth of empirical knowledge.Andshe was a suspected smuggler of ladies’ fabrics. Given Lisbeth’s latest assignment to capture the Prince of Smugglers, she’d needed a crew, a person with knowledge of the customs houses, and a dependable quartermaster.

Estelle had instantly agreed. They had warmed each other’s beds for the better part of a year, and then that, too, had lost its luster. Lisbeth had found over the years that her lovers had to catch her interest, and not just at a surface level. While she appreciated looks as much as anyone, compassion, intelligence, humor, and insight held more of a draw for her. Most of her romantic relationships seemed to have no legs to go the distance—not that she needed that sort of distraction in her profession. Lovers tookeffort.

And the truth was, her job left little space for affairs of the heart.

Lisbeth glanced over her shoulder at the sailing master, who stood there like a silent, obedient, pretty statue. His stark cheekbones stood out, with the gauntness of a half-starved creature. Her eyes narrowed. What kind of feral cur had Estelle welcomed onboard? He was tall, at least a half-a-foot taller than her, and rangy in build. Long inky hair fell in a thick windswept skein from his crown to his shoulders, framing that angular, sculpted face, the bottom half of a square jaw covered in a thick layer of dark scruff. Two gold hoops hung from his right ear, one at the top through his cartilage and one in his lobe.

---