Page 14 of The Rebellious Countess
“I’m not.”
“Then why did Peter convince me to run from you and then immediately dumped me ashore with no way home?”
He looked up at her, his face devoid of expression except for a tick in his jaw she’d never seen before. No, that wasn’t completely true. She’d seen his jaw tick with anger that first day aboard ship when she’d staggered up to the deck and discovered her husband was a pirate captain. This look, however, was something much more dangerous. It was deadly.
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My lovely wife,
Unfortunately, I have nothing good to report. I contacted the War Office about our imposter of a brother-in-law. Sir Williamson had little information regarding the earl, as a matter of fact, he departed without divulging anything more than what we had already known—the title expired in 1790. His manner seemed…a bit guarded. The more I ponder our exchange, the more I suspect he knows more than he shared.
I also met with the Duke of Braeberry, who assured me his country estate was not available for let, by an earl or anyone else. He was so concerned, he left for the country with a gaggle of footmen immediately after our meeting.
I’m sorry I was unable to discover more. After meeting with Braeberry, I hired the best Bow Street Runner in the business, Mr. Johnathan Payne. He came with the highest of references when I was attempting to locate you last spring. He found you; however, Edward discovered his investigation first—and paid him off. I do not resent the man for that mistake in judgement, as I am unsure of where the two of us would be now had we met under different circumstances. I have no doubt I would have loved you, yetI fear your love for me may not have flourished the way it did. Because of that, I will give him the benefit of doubt. If he double-crosses me again, however, I will have his head.
I will do everything in my power to bring Máira home safe and sound. If need be, I will secure a husband for her. My dear friend Astley is in need of a bride. He and Máira get along very well and are constantly conspiring to bring your sister Caillen out of hiding. He will make the best of husbands for Máira, and as an earl, he can minimize the scandal.
Please do not fret, dearling. I cannot wait to hold you and our son in my arms once more. If I am delayed next week, it will be due to following a lead to bring your sister home safe and sound.
All my love,
Nash
—A letter from Nashford Xavier Harding, Duke of Ross, to his wife Iseabail Blair Handcock Harding, Duchess of Ross, regarding her missing sister, Máira Blair Collins, Countess of Dorset, or Mrs. Máira Blair Drake, or the ruined Miss Máira Blair
He would kill Peter. No, that was too good for his first mate. He would draw, hang, and quarter him. Watch as the man’s blood stained the decks of theMaribelleas a lesson to any man who put his wife in danger. That was the punishment for treason.
Except he’d married her under subterfuge, and he had no doubt her family wouldn’t recognize it as legitimate, despite the Duchess of Ross and four of her sisters attending the ceremony. Damnation.
He had assumed the loyal, incorruptible Peter had been overpowered by Jack and Billy. Caught unawares at worst. But betrayal? It was like one’s brother turning around and stabbing you in the heart—the one place you allowed in only the few who were deemed worthy. Peter had been one of those people for the past ten years. They had gone on mission after mission together, saved each other’s worthless necks countless times. It made no sense.
It was the last bit that made him pause. He stood up in the trough, naked as the day he was born, and Máira’s eyes nearly popped out of her skull before she squeezed them shut. He did notice she only did thataftershe took a long look at the part of him that longed to be buried deep inside her.
His lips quirked. He couldn’t have her, but the urge to corrupt her drove him to distraction. He grabbed a horse’s blanket from a peg on the mews wall and covered his lower body. “Tell me everything that happened after I left the ship yesterday morning.” His voice was calm and devoid of emotion and brooked no argument.
“Peter told me he was taking me ashore to help me escape, but when we arrived, he left me in the street with no means to find passage home.”
“Why would you think you had to escape?” He’d had no plans of hurting her or placing her on shore in France. He had every intention of transporting her directly to theConfianceand return her safely home.
“I don’t know, maybe because you turned out to be a pirate, who treated me as a prisoner. Then when he told me you planned to sell me?—”
“Sell you!” Damnation. Every part of him wanted to believe she wasn’t telling the truth.
She nodded and warily continued. “Once we were at the docks, he said I should go to The Happy Hag and ask to speak to Hag.”
Frustration simmered through his body, threatening to send him into a rage. His pounding head kept his voice low. “Why the bloody hell would you believe such a story and not create a scene for me to hear?”
She bristled at that. “Because you were the reason I was imprisoned on a pirate ship to begin with! Who or what was I supposed to believe?”
Elias grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the kitchen’s back door. Máira squealed and attempted to drag her heels in the mud. He lifted her up and tossed her over his shoulder then picked up his gun and dagger. Hopefully he could secure Máira safely upstairs in a locked room before any further violence erupted.
“Ellison—Elias! Put me down!” She pounded on his back in time with the pounding in his head. It was as if she could hear it, too, and wanted to make godawful music to torture him.
“Be quiet, Wife. Or everyone will hear us going through the kitchen to the back stairs and know exactly where we’re going. Unless you feel safer with the men in the bar knowing exactly where you are?”
He could almost hear her thinking as she pondered his question, wondering which path was the safest one to choose. He breathed a tired and thankful sigh of relief when she chose not to fight him further and entered the kitchen.
The cook looked up from the stove and stared.
