Page 24 of The Swan Syndicate
Jamie shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I have my own tasks.” With a broad smile, he strode off toward a group of sailors, his head turning left and right as he watched the men at work.
Lando led Stella down the stairs to the galley and introduced her to Michelson, who assumed various roles as part-time sailor, part-time doctor, and part-time cook. He was a thin man with a receding hairline emphasized by his ponytail and was somewhere in his thirties if Stella had to guess. He had gentle eyes and a soft voice.
“This is Stella. She’s here as part of our mission but willing to help out. I thought you could use a hand stowing the supplies. I’ll be taking your two helpers.”
Michelson stood with hands on his hips as he scanned the galley that was filled with crates and sacks of staples. He scratched his head. “I’ll use whatever help I can get.” He glanced at Stella. “Let me show you the pantry. Everything has its place so it can be found quickly. Then we can start moving the stores.”
“Show me the way.”
Stella trailed behind Michelson and took stock of the pantry and, after five minutes, nodded as she understood their system. Not how she would have done it, but easy enough to follow.
“Let’s start with this stack.” Michelson strode to the first group of items, which was a combination of sacks and small kegs. “Just starting packing everything into the pantry.”
“I know this is my first time onboard, but can I make a suggestion?”
He straightened from the crate he was opening. “Go ahead.”
“Well, the alleyway is kind of narrow. If we end up filling up the front before the back, it will take us longer. If we can find the items that get stored at the back and work forward, we can both haul items at the same time without running into each other.”
He grinned. “I should have thought of that. I’m not the one who normally handles the cargo.”
Stella walked around the stacks. “Here we go. Let’s start with these.” She picked up a sack, straining under what had to be thirty pounds of dried beans. “What do you normally do when it’s time to set sail, if those are the correct words.”
“Close enough, and I’m usually on deck.”
“Well, we should be able to move through this pretty quickly once we set a pace.” She disappeared into the pantry and dropped the sack in its spot, making sure to level it out so several more could be stacked on top.
She wasn’t sure how long they’d been working when she rolled a keg into place and lifted it to its flat side.
“I’ve always said no one organizes better than a woman.”
She turned to find Beckworth dropping a sack onto a growing stack of corn flour. “At least you’re talking to me again.”
He ran a hand through his hair then pulled at his cuffs. “I still believe this mission to be too dangerous, but we are where we are.” He glanced away. “And I’m not sleeping on the floor.”
She grinned. “Jamie told you?”
His lips twitched. “He didn’t have to. I saw the pile of blankets with a pillow on top.”
“Jamie’s kind. I hadn’t mentioned a pillow.” She held her smile, and his shoulders relaxed. “Have you been at the stables all this time?” She glanced at the growing stack of inventory. “It seems like I’ve been down here awhile.”
“I had to make a quick run to the mercantile then looked for you in the cabin.”
Stella moved past him, slowing as she brushed against him in the narrow aisle. “Follow me if you want to talk. We need to get this put away. I felt the ship shift.”
“They’re raising the sails, so I sent Michelson up top. I’ll help you finish this.”
They worked for another two hours, and Stella shuffled behind Beckworth as he led them to their cabin, which, fortunately, wasn’t too far from the galley. She fell face-first onto the bed.
“I think I found the cure for seasickness.”
Beckworth chuckled. “We’ve barely left port, and it will be some time before we leave the river for the sea.”
“Not sure it matters.”
Strong fingers ran over her shoulders, massaging her sore muscles. She moaned as he worked his way down her back. He untied her dress, and his warm hands made her skin tingle. When his lips followed the path of his hands, she snuggled into the covers. She tried to turn over when he reached her lower back, but her arms refused to work. One too many sacks of flour. She grunted when he rolled her over and continued his kisses over her belly—her ticklish spot. Her throaty laugh only spurred him on.
He moved off the bed, and she managed to lift her head in time to see him toss his jacket away. She tugged a pillow underher head and continued to watch as he unbuttoned his waistcoat. His gaze was molten.
