Page 74 of This Earl of Mine

“Johnstone thinks he’s safe, seeing as you think you’ve got ’im locked up,” Jem continued. “’E’s coming to move that boat.”

“Johnstone’s on his way to launch the sub tonight?” Alex repeated.

“That’s what I said, ain’t it? You got about ’arf an hour, maybe less. They wants to catch the tide.”

Benedict blew out a breath. “Good job, Jem.”

He reached into his pocket and pressed a gold sovereign into the boy’s grubby palm. The cheeky blighter had the audacity to test it between his teeth before he slipped it into his pocket. He caught Seb’s look of astonishment and sent him a gap-toothed smile. “Can’t be too careful, can yer? Not wiv all these crooks and coiners around, eh?”

Benedict glanced at his colleagues. “Ambush?”

Two sets of eyes twinkled in anticipation. “Oh yes.”

He glanced at Georgie and his stomach pitched. Bloody hell. He’d never intended to involve her in anything so risky. He needed to get her out of here. “Perhaps we should come back another night.”

Three sets of eyes glared at him in astonishment.

“And let Johnstone get away with the submarine?” Georgie growled. She sent him a scornful look that clearly maligned his manhood. “Never. Stop worrying about me, Wylde, and let’s get in there while we still have time.”

Her cheeks were pink, her eyes flashed sparks, and he wanted to grab the back of her neck and kiss some sense into her, the stubborn, headstrong wretch. She raised her brows at him in silent challenge, and her obstinate expression was indicative of an iron will behind that velvet facade.

“I do hope you’re not going to forbid me from coming,” she said, her voice flinty. “Might I remind you that I am the only one here who knows how to sail?” She crossed her arms over her chest as if that settled the matter. Which, in truth, it did.

Alex snorted in amusement and tried to disguise it as a cough.

“Have I mentioned how much I approve of your wife, Benedict?” Seb drawled.

Georgie sent him a sunny smile.

Benedict sighed in defeat. If they worked quickly, they could be out of there before Johnstone arrived. “All right. Jem, can you act as a lookout?”

“Aye-aye.”

As the five of them crossed the road and headed for the shadowed warehouse, Ben caught Alex’s eye. “Take one more look at her arse in those breeches and I’ll flatten you,” he muttered.

Alex shot him a wicked grin. “Can’t blame a man forlooking. Not when the merchandise is so appealing. I’m just appreciating your excellent taste.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. Alex clapped him on the shoulder. “Easy!” He laughed. “Jealousy does not become you, my friend.”

“Maybe one day you’ll get yourself a wife, and then we’ll see what you think of another man eyeing her up.”

Alex shuddered theatrically. “Me, a wife? Never.”

Leaving Jem at the front to keep watch, they slipped into the side alley. Seb and Alex climbed through the same window he and Georgie had used. Benedict caught her around the waist and hiked her up onto the barrel below the window. He meant to let her go, but the feel of her tiny waist beneath his hands turned his brain to mush. Driven purely by instinct, he tugged her forward, and when she planted her hands on his shoulders, he took advantage of her momentary imbalance to capture her mouth.

There was nothing sweet or chivalrous about his kiss. It was hard, brazen, lusty. An unmistakable statement of intent. After an instant of shock, she wrapped her slim arms around his neck and kissed him back greedily, as if she couldn’t get enough of him. His legs almost buckled. He craved her, when he’d never craved anyone or anything before. “Georgie,” he groaned. “You’re killing me.”

Her mouth pressed eagerly to his, warm and delicious.

A laughing cough came from inside the warehouse. “Are you two coming, or shall Alex and I do this on our own?”

He pulled away reluctantly, his legs unsteady and his heart pounding in his chest. “In you go.” She turned on the barrel—which just positioned her delectable arse tantalizingly close to his face. Pure torture.Later, he promised himself. When all this was done, he’d take herback to the Tricorn and make love to her for hours. Days. Weeks.

The warehouse smelled of sawdust and tar, turpentine—and the unmistakable tang of fresh gunpowder. Benedict frowned. He shouldn’t be able to smell that. There was no way the barrels he’d dampened could have dried out in just a few days. He strode across to the stack and flicked back the oilcloth. “Bollocks.”

Alex materialized out of the shadows, silent as a cat. “What is it?”

“Johnstone’s taken a new delivery of gunpowder. I ruined the last lot.”

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