Page 7 of A Wicked Game

“I am indeed.”

Chapter Three

Morgan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. This, surely, was some bizarre nightmare. He waited, willing himself to jerk awake, but Harriet and Melville remained stubbornly corporeal in front of him.

A clock ticked loudly on the mantelpiece. He cleared his throat and tried to ignore the thunderous beat of his own pulse in his ears.

“Explain. If you please.”

Harriet’s impish expression clearly showed how much she was enjoying his discomfiture.

“My father’s provided maps to the Admiralty for over thirty years, but his eyesight began to fail a couple of years ago.”

“That’s when Miss Montgomery took over.” Melville beamed, sending her an affectionate look. “She’s just as skilled as her father.”

A becoming pink stained Harriet’s cheekbones and Morgan quashed a flash of irritation at the admiring way Melville was looking at her.The man had a wife, for God’s sake.

Harriet shrugged, as if embarrassed by the praise. “I’m just glad the Admiralty recognized the quality of my work and agreed to keep me on in his place.”

“We asked Miss Montgomery to provide falsified maps to annoy the French,” Melville continued, blissfully unaware of Morgan’s irritation.

“And issued them under the name of Crusoe to keep my identity a secret,” Harriet said. “Not merely because I’m a woman—and most men seem stubbornly inclined to disbelieve anything produced by a female, however competent it may be—”

Morgan hid a wince at her shamefully accurate observation.

“—but to also stop any disgruntled Frenchmen from tracking me down and exacting revenge. In precisely the same manner asyouhave done today.”

She lifted her brows in a way that reminded him of Nanny Maude, his old nursemaid in Wales, scolding him for some heinous infraction.

A sweep of dread chilled Morgan’s blood at the thought of anyone ever threatening Harriet. He shot an angry glare at Melville. “Didany French ships come to grief because of her charts?”

“Oh, yes indeed. Our sources suggest at least three floundered or wrecked.”

Harriet sucked in a breath. This, apparently, was news to her. The color leached from her cheeks. “Were any men killed? Or drowned?”

Melville shook his head. “Not that we’re aware of. One ship ran aground off Crete. Another got stuck on a reef while trying to dock in Mauritius. And the third hit rocks close to the Isle of Wight. All three crews surrendered without bloodshed.”

“Oh, good,” Harriet said faintly. “I wouldn’t have wanted anyone todiebecause of me.”

“That’s not counting your own ship either, Davies,” Melville added cheerfully. “I suppose we should addthat to Miss Montgomery’s tally. Even if it was one of ours.”

But Morgan didn’t care about that. “So the French never realized the maps were fake?”

Harriet shrugged. “A few of them might have suspected, of course, when they ran aground. Just as you did. But even if theydidrealize they were duped, the war is over. Bonaparte’s about to be exiled for good. I can’t imagine anyone would bother coming all this way to track me down simply for revenge.”

Morgan sent her a simmering glance. “Oh, you’d be amazed, Miss Montgomery, at how obsessed a man can become. Thoughts of getting even, ofwinning, can consume his every waking moment.”

Harriet’s lips parted as she caught the double meaning of his words and he suppressed a triumphant grin. He wasn’t just talking about revenge for the map, but also about his promise to return and claim those kisses.

He dropped his gaze to her mouth, so she’d be in no doubt. The pink rushed back into her cheeks, and his mood lightened considerably.

He slapped his palms on his thighs and stood. Melville did the same.

“Well then, it seems there’s nothing more for me to discover here.” Morgan kept his tone amiable. “My dreams of exacting vengeance on Mister Crusoe lie in tatters. Miss Montgomery, you are a credit to our nation.”

He shot her a mocking look.

Melville sent her a kind, regretful smile. “Indeed. It’s a shame your involvement can never be made public. But we must think of your safety. And that of your father.”

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