Page 29 of The Swan Syndicate
“Jamie will call us together any moment now. It’s almost dinner time, anyway.”
“How do you know that?”
“I can smell the stew and fresh rolls.”
That released a chuckle. “I meant about Jamie. I’m not so completely absorbed that I can’t smell fresh bread baking.”
“He’s learned a great deal from Finn, and I’ve had a long time to study Finn’s behavior. He’s a strategist. He thinks things over, sometimes for what seems forever, before coming to his own conclusions and decisions.”
“And you learned all this during the year or so that you’ve known him. That is, from your timeline.”
She whispered in his ear. “I admit, AJ’s told me a lot, but I also watched him and Ethan work out ways to catch you your first time in Baywood.”
A shiver ran through him at the memory. “Fair enough.” He didn’t like talking about those times. That was when he was still the duke’s man, not the man he was now.
She rubbed his shoulders. “Shake it off. Everyone knows who the true Beckworth is.”
“Everyone?”
“Those who matter. And maybe Jamie has other things on his mind. We’re at port. It’s time for everyone to rest and have time for themselves.”
He had nothing to counter with because she was right. Even the captain needed space from the men.
“Are you really worried about what I overheard?”
Before he had a chance to answer, a knock at the door made him jump from the bed. He took a couple of steps and yanked the door open.
“Hello, little man.” Lando gave him a huge grin, knowing how much Beckworth hated the moniker Lando had given him back when they still questioned his loyalties. “Jamie wants to meet before dinner. Half an hour in the galley.” He glanced past him to Stella. “And you’re looking well, Miss Stella. Cook wanted to know if you could spare some time after the meeting to help in the galley. He has friends in port he wanted to visit.”
“Of course. I’ll work out a schedule with him if it’s easier. You know—while we’re at sea versus when we’re at port. Although, if we’re in a storm, I’ll probably be worthless.”
Lando nodded and gave her a wide grin. “I think Cook is already in love with you. If Beckworth isn’t careful, you’ll have a marriage proposal before the mission is over.” Then the burly man scurried away faster than Beckworth thought possible.
Stella’s throaty laugh made him lock the door. He pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor as he stalked to the bed. Her laughter soon turned into moans of pleasure, and his worries about Cheval disappeared for a time.
When they arrived in the galley for Jamie’s meeting, Beckworth’s earlier concerns were still forefront in his mind, but the anxiety it brought had been reduced with his time in Stella’s arms. It wasn’t the act of lovemaking, though it was a small part. It was that she understood what drove him, what made him irritable, and what made him smile. Sometimes she knew what he needed before he did. It more than made up for her stubborn streaks and making questionable decisions without him. Those were behaviors he wouldn’t be able to change, and based on Finn’s advice and observations of him with AJ, he had to discover a happy middle ground. Some days were easier than others.
Stella took a seat between him and Fitz, who was already munching on a hunk of cheese and a leftover roll from breakfast. The first mate ate constantly yet never gained an ounce. But the man barely rested, usually working double shifts while at sea and then running various tasks while in port. Fitz was also an excellent spy. He could modify his appearance and voice when needed to the point people rarely noticed him, and those who did were left with a memory of a man who wasn’t real. His usual physical changes were an added limp, a drunken posture, or a twitchy eye. His ability to physically adapt to a situation was similar to Beckworth’s own skills after years working with the London gangs—or crews, as he referred to them.
Lando and Michelson sat across from them along with two other sailors Beckworth had seen before but had never been introduced to. They had been working the pubs with Fitz. The was a pitcher of ale, and Stella filled mugs.
Jamie sauntered in five minutes later, looking like he’d just woken up. That explained his earlier disappearance. He wasn’t much of a talker when he was tired. Like someone had extinguished his inner light.
He’d barely sat when Cook set a mug of coffee in front of him. He took a sip and wiped his face before staring at the assembled group. “Sorry for being late. Never visit more than one or two captains while in port. I think it might be a while before I can look at another glass of whiskey.”
The men’s forlorn expressions matched Jamie’s, as if mourning the loss of a good friend. It wasn’t wise to step between an Irishman and his whiskey, so Beckworth nodded with his own condolences and tried not to grin at Stella’s roll of her eyes.
She’d brought a few pages of paper and had begun making a swan. Her movements were slower than usual, most likely trying to keep the inventory low. She typically gave the swans away to children or acquaintances she knew who had kids. No one onboard theDaphnewould want one, but perhaps a merchant in port would be interested. He wouldn’t be surprised if she unfolded and refolded the same swan several times over. She’d done it before, but that was when she’d only had a single sheet of paper to work with for days.
Jamie cleared his throat, bringing Beckworth back to the present. Now that he had the opportunity to share Stella’s observations, had paced the cabin with the need to share, he wasn’t ready to discuss it. So, he let Jamie gather the other reports first.
“Lando. You mentioned earlier that you didn’t hear anything about MacDuff.”
“The inn was crowded with sailors, so we thought we’d hear something about smuggling.” Lando stopped to take a drink then wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Michelson thought he’d heard something, but it turned out the captains are concerned about British patrols boarding ships without cause.”
Michelson nodded his agreement. “No mention of specific smugglers or ships.”
“It’s only our first run at it, and as Stella mentioned earlier, we might have better luck in the evening.” Jamie turned to Fitz. “What did you, Lane, and Carmichael come up with?”
