Page 61 of The Moonstone Pirate
“We are not fighting,” he replied. “Is this what you think we are doing? If nothing of what I said has penetrated that lovely head of yours, then let me spew some more edicts. Imogen, I am serious about your not coming around here again. I don’t want you to seek me out or talk to me. I don’t want you poking around, which is the only reason you are coming around here in the first place. Yes, you like Deandra. But this is not the reason you run over here every chance you get.”
“How dare you say such a thing? I am here because Deandra invited me. Do not impute sinister motives to me.” She frowned at him. “You are the one who approached me. You are the one who is apishly insisting on carrying my things inside. It is completely unnecessary. So, kindly put those things down and let me attend to them. Kindly keep away fromme. Do not seek me out or talk tome. As for my investigating—”
“Do you dare deny it? Are we going to argue about this again?”
“No, you’ll only make me cry because you are so mean to me.”
“Blessed saints,” he said with a groan. “I am not being mean to you. Is it not obvious I am trying to protect you?”
“From what? All our suspects have fled Moonstone Landing. So what are you protecting me from? Your delightful family? This tranquil garden? This lovely view?” She turned to look across his private cove. “There’s nothing to see here but…”
She stopped talking as her heart shot into her throat. “Oh, dear heaven.”
Draco stared at her with marked impatience. “Blast it, Imogen. What now?”
She swallowed hard and pointed into the distance. “Is that a pirate ship sailing into your cove?”
Chapter Ten
You’re a weekearly, you bastard.
Draco followed Imogen’s gaze. Yes, it was a pirate ship sailing into his cove, white sails unfurled to catch the hot summer wind. He recognized the vessel as theDrogheda. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, dropping Imogen’s supplies and none too gently shoving her down behind the stone wall that stood between his manicured garden and the meadow.
“Draco! Well, I never!”
He ignored her protest. “Sorry, Butterfly. The fun is over. You need to go back home immediately. Take Deandra and my uncle with you.Now.”
“How am I to do that while your big paw is on my shoulder and pressing me down? Not to mention, Parrot is now licking my face. Ew! Stop that, Parrot. Draco, is that the Irishman’s ship? Ew! Parrot, must you be so…slobbery? Draco, I—”
“Blessed saints, stop asking questions.”
“Get your dog off me.”
He nudged Parrot off Imogen. The dog began to whine.
Imogen immediately returned to asking questions. “It is the Irishman’s ship, isn’t it? Don’t you dare lie to me about something so important. You need to tell me the truth about what is really going on.”
Draco stared down at her, his hand still on her shoulder to keep her hidden from view behind the stone wall. “Yes, it is his ship.”
“What is it doing here?”
“I cannot tell you that.” Nor did he understand why McTavish had shown up a week earlier than planned, and in broad daylight. Not only had he shown up early and while everyone could see him, but he’d come here instead of meeting Draco at the Three Lions tavern as arranged.
Fortunately, he was ready for Sean McTavish.
This was what these past days of preparation had been for. Not only had he thoroughly scouted those caves, but he had prepared an escape route because it was always wise to have one close by when dealing with pirates. He’d taken axe and shovel to break through the bricked walls of the old smuggler’s tunnel. He had also concealed weapons in strategic locations within the cave, should the need arise.
Imogen’s pretty mouth was still going, and that clever mind of hers was spinning. “What dealings do you have with him? Does this connect him to Driscoll’s murder? Did you lure him here on purpose? That ring Lord Healey was wearing at your party and also last year when meeting with this Irishman tosses him into the mix as a suspect, doesn’t it? Do you think the Irishman ordered Lord Healey to kill Driscoll? Or did Healey act on his own and is now in fear the Irishman is going to come after him…right after he comes after you.”
“He is not coming after me.”
“That Irishman is at the heart of all this, isn’t he? But—”
“Imogen, enough. This is no time for an interrogation.” He kept his big hand on her shoulder and nudged her down again when she tried to stand up. “Parrot, for pity’s sake, stop licking Imogen’s face.”
The dog climbed atop her.
“Oh, thank you so much,” she muttered. “Draco, he is drooling on my hair.”
