Page 81 of The Swan Syndicate
They were right. He’d be no good to Stella or the ship once they caught up to Cheval. He patted Lando’s shoulder and stumbled his way across the deck. The cabin was dark when he reached it, but he didn’t bother lighting the lantern.
He fell face-first into the bed. Stella’s intoxicating scent had hit him the moment he’d walked in, and it only grew stronger. His hand clutched the silk robe she’d left tossed on the bed, and it filled his senses. He pulled it close. The last thought that crossed his mind as he tumbled into a deep sleep was what he’d tell AJ if anything happened to Stella.
Stella dragged the bucket along the deck to a spot near the running rigging where a sailor was staring up, his focus clearly on the sails. She glanced around, noting that everyone was busy. From what she’d heard from the sailors as she’d scrubbed her way across the deck, they were nearing a port.
At first, she’d been thrilled to hear the news, hoping there was a way for her to find a way off the ship. She couldn’t spend another night onboard. Cheval had kept her locked in the small room next to his cabin all night. She’d been grateful for small favors, but when he’d opened the door that morning, he made it clear she wouldn’t be alone tonight.
When she was eating her porridge under the watchful eye of two sailors, one of them mentioned the guns were being prepared for a ship that wasn’t only following but was gaining on them.
TheDaphne. It had to be.
While she might be learning about ships on this mission, there was more she didn’t know than what she did. But she was a good listener and had excellent memory retention. Skills that had gotten her out of more scrapes than she cared to admit. Not just in this time period but her own.
She’d listened to Finn share the story about how he and Ethan had chased AJ and Maire across the Channel to save them from Beckworth, who’d been attempting to reach the safety of the monastery controlled by the duke and his men. Beckworth’s ship had left port two hours before Finn could get theDaphneprepared to follow. Yet, Finn had made it to France first in time to prepare a trap for Beckworth and rescue the women.
Two things had worked in theDaphne’s favor. The first was simple physics. Beckworth’s ship had been larger but had been weighed down by more cargo. TheDaphnecarried the bare minimum, mostly crew and a group of the Earl of Hereford’s guards.
The second reason, and what Stella thought made the real difference, was Finn’s ability to sense the winds and when they would shift, keeping his crew ready for new orders. This allowed theDaphneto maintain the speed required to overtake the other ship, though they never laid eyes on it during the crossing.
Finn no longer captained theDaphne, but Jamie, Fitz, and Lando had been trained by Finn. And Beckworth had once told her Jamie had the same sense for the wind as Finn had. So, she was confident it was theDaphnechasing them, though she couldn’t see her from where she worked. The threat of guns changed everything. By being onThe Horseman, Stella had the opportunity to assist, assuming she could figure out how.
She kept an eye on the sailor in front of her while she scrubbed the deck. Her beautiful French dress was ruined. It had been soaked wet from crawling around on her knees scrubbing the deck, and the fabric was ripped in multiple places from the rough wood and nails. As she inched her way closer to him, she scanned the deck. The other men ignored her, their focus on theDaphne, their own tasks, and their growing excitement over a battle at sea.
She slowly stood, stretched her back, then pushed the bucket closer to the rigging so it was directly behind the sailor, sloshing more water than was necessary. When the man stepped back to tighten the sheets, he tripped over the bucket, and Stella was on him in an instant.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” She bent to help him up but pretended to slip and knocked him down again as he attempted to rise.
“Get off me, woman.”
She sprawled over the top of him and used a hand on his upper thigh, close to his privates, to lift herself up. He flinched, and she shifted more weight to the hand pushing on his leg while grabbing two gunpowder cartridges from his belt.
She grinned.
While she’d been on the run with Beckworth, she’d demanded to know how to load a flintlock. She knew how to handle firearms but didn’t know the first thing about loading a rifle in this time period. Beckworth had balked at first, but he’d agreed she needed the ability to protect herself in case something happened to him. By the time Gemini was no longer a threat, she’d had a few opportunities to work with a belt of cartridges. Two cartridges didn’t hold a lot of gunpowder but should be enough for her plan. Well, the plan she was making up as she went along.
The sailor rolled over to get on his knees, but before he could stand, she scrambled up and fell across his back, forcing him back down.
“Damn it, woman.”
Her hand ran up his leg again and scraped across his crotch. She almost gagged when she felt it twitch, but her nimble fingers found what they were seeking before he shoved her aside as he made another attempt to get up.
Stella rolled into a ball, fumbled with her pockets, then complained, “The deck is so slippery.”
Once he got to his feet, he glared down at her. “You’re supposed to be over at the forecastle, not near the rigging.” The man kicked the bucket away, forcing the remaining water, what little of it there was, to run over her shoes. He didn’t notice because he’d already returned his focus to the sails.
Stella pushed herself to her knees and crawled toward the bucket as she surveyed the men. Most hadn’t seen the mishap, and the few who had were laughing as they returned to their tasks.
No one had noticed her slip the dagger she’d taken into the pocket of her sodden dress. When she reached the bucket, she stood and raced for the galley to refill it.
On the way, she noticed the lines running to the sails. She glanced around, wondering why these weren’t manned but shrugged, pulled out the knife, and quickly tested its sharpness. There was only time for one quick pass, and though the lines weren’t cut through they were now frayed. Gravity could do the rest.
She kept her head down as she kept moving. The lower decks were eerily quiet, and she set the bucket near a barrel of water. There was one on the top deck, but she needed an excuse why she was down here. If she’d learned anything from Beckworth during times like this, it was how to create a diversion. It was something he was exceptionally good at.
What was the one thing most feared on a ship? She grinned.
Fire.
The gunpowder cartridges should be enough to get the party started, and the flame to light it up was easy to find. There were lanterns everywhere below deck. What she needed was a good tinder.
