Andrea Kane (40 page)

Alex’s eyes were damp. “You really have grown up, haven’t you?”

“I want to be Rem’s wife more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. Please, Alex, help me.”

Rising, Alex squared her shoulders and squeezed Sammy’s hand. “I’ll talk to Drake again. Between us, you and I will make him see reason. And then, Lord help us, we’ll both have our heroes.”

*   *   *

“No. Definitively, unequivocally no. Samantha will not marry the Earl of Gresham.”

Drake tossed one Hessian boot to the floor, sending the other crashing after it.

“You’re being completely irrational.” Alex propped her chin on her knees, regarding her husband calmly from the center of her bed,

“I don’t give a damn. Sammy is a child. She knows nothing about falling in love and less about unprincipled rakes.”

“That description sounds remarkably familiar.” Alex frowned as she allegedly pondered that thought. “I know! Three years ago. You remember—the innocent girl who collided with the impenetrable rogue? The rogue who tried to seduce her the first night on his ship?”

“All right, princess. You made your point.” Drake shot Alex a dark look.

“You can’t change Samantha’s feelings. Nor can you undo what’s been done.”

Drake’s fingers paused on the buttons of his shirt. “What’s been done? What the hell does that mean?”

“It means she loves him, Drake.”

Swearing softly, Drake sent his shirt sailing to the floor beside his boots and sank down wearily on the edge of the bed. “I don’t want to hear any more.” He dropped his head into his hands, vulnerable in a way only Alex was permitted to see. “I’m at a loss, princess.”

Alex lay her cheek against his bare back. “Do we have the right to deny Sammy the same joy we share? She told me today that everything she’s learned about love, she’s learned from us.”

With a groan, Drake turned, tugging Alex against him. “You really believe this is right, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

A prolonged silence hovered as Drake grappled with his doubts. “What do you want me to do?”

Smiling softly, Alex kissed the taut muscles of her husband’s chest. She knew how much this concession cost him, and she loved him all the more for it. “For now, nothing. Except perhaps to cease stomping around like a wounded bear. But whenever the earl does descend on Allonshire, I want you to listen to what he has to say. It’s going to be difficult … for both you and Lord Gresham. But you owe it to Sammy to listen with your heart as well as your mind. Do it for her”—Alex raised her face to gaze up at him—“and for me.”

Conflicting emotions warred on Drake’s face before he relented, tangling his hands in his wife’s tawny hair. “You know I’d take on the devil himself for you, princess.”

Alex caressed his nape, drawing his mouth down to hers. “It’s too late, Your Grace. I’ve already tamed him.”

“Templar turned up nothing.” Rem crumpled the note Boyd had handed him and flung it across his sitting room. “Anders’s house is as void of clues as his office, dammit.”

Boyd rubbed his unshaven chin. “So we’re right back where we started two days ago.”

“You look like hell. You and Harris have spent forty-eight bloody hours at the docks. Neither of you has spotted that privateer yet?”

“No. But we knew this tactic was a gamble, Rem. For all we know, he could have taken to sea by now. He could also have disguised himself in any number of ways. It wouldn’t take much to become unrecognizable to us; I’ve never laid eyes on the bastard, and Harris only caught one fleeting glimpse of him that night he met Towers.”

“What about Towers’s description?”

“Despite the captain’s belief that he’d committed the culprit’s face to memory, his actual description was weak. Average height, heavyset, black hair, beard.”

“That sounds like every bloody sailor in London.”

“Exactly.”

“Perhaps I should talk to Towers myself.”

“I think that’s wise,” Boyd agreed. “You have a way of helping people remember information they never knew they possessed.”

“Fine. I’ll visit Towers tonight.” Crossing the room, Rem retrieved the discarded note only long enough to tear it to shreds and toss the remains into the fire.

Boyd’s glass paused halfway to his lips. “You’re going to Harris’s place? Wouldn’t it be safer to follow our usual procedure and meet at Annie’s? Harris could bring Towers with him.”

“No. I can’t risk Captain Towers showing himself in public. If Summerson or his privateer were to spot him, his life wouldn’t be worth a damn.”

“Neither will your position with the Admiralty if you start visiting the Bow Street men at their homes. Meeting them for a drink is one thing, calling on them socially is another. If anyone sees you—”

“Maybe it doesn’t matter anymore,” Rem replied softly.

His vital proclamation hung in the air like the charged aftermath of gunfire.

Boyd’s sober gaze met Rem’s, astute but unsurprised. “No, maybe it doesn’t,” he agreed.

Silence permeated the room as the significance of what was occurring sank in.

At last Rem gave an ironic laugh. “I never would have believed this if it weren’t happening. An eighteen-year-old romantic innocent … and I can barely get through each day without her. Me; the skeptic, the impervious rake. Inconceivable, wouldn’t you say?”

“No. Miraculous, I would say. You’re a lucky man, Rem.”

“I won’t dispute that fact.” Rem didn’t smile. “It’s as if Samantha is pouring all the good back inside me.”

Boyd nodded his understanding. “Based upon your inference that protecting your identity is no longer important, I presume you’ve been giving thought to the future … to what you intend once you and Samantha are wed.”

“I think of little else. I can’t put her at risk, Boyd, and you know she would be if she were privy to my full involvement with the Admiralty. Nor can I stash her away at Gresham, keep her separate from what I do, as I once thought I would.”

“Because she’s suspicious of your activities?”

“Because she’s Samantha.” Rem savored each word as he uttered it; a decision he’d come to days ago but was only first giving voice to. “Because I love her too much to place her second in my life. Hell, because I want her with me all the time, every day, everywhere. Because I want to give her everything she needs, everything
I
need: my heart, my future, my children.” Rem broke off, wonder in his eyes.

“It’s time, isn’t it?” Boyd pronounced gently. “Finally, my friend, it’s time. For both of us,” he added.

The implication of Boyd’s final phrase struck home.

“Cynthia?” Rem questioned.

“Cynthia.” Boyd grinned. “Of course, she doesn’t know it yet, although I’m arrogant enough to believe she cares. And as I’ve said, I’m a patient man. A few months is a small price to pay for a lifetime.”

Peace, unimaginable but absolute, pervaded Rem’s soul. “Fate works in strange ways, doesn’t it?”

Boyd nodded. “It’s time to rebuild our lives.”

“I agree. And not only because of Samantha and Cynthia, although, Lord knows, they’re the finest of incentives.” Seeing Boyd’s quizzical look, Rem clarified, “Instinct tells me we’ve beaten the odds too many times, my friend, and that discovery is no longer eventual but imminent. Ten years is a long time to flirt with danger in our own backyard.”

“You’re saying we should quit while we’re ahead … or, in this case, alive?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. We’ve trained Harris and Templar well. With occasional guidance from us, Briggs will scarcely notice we’re gone.” Rem’s lips set in a grim line. “But first we’re going to uncover the plot behind those missing ships and put Anders and Summerson in Newgate where they belong. Them, their privateer friend, and whoever else they’re working with. I’m half tempted to seize Anders and beat the truth out of him. But enticing as that prospect might be, it’s too risky. If assaulting Anders doesn’t scare him into giving us the names we need, we’ll have alerted his anonymous partner, who will then escape unpunished. If only we could find a way to make them surface on their own—” Abruptly, Rem stopped, a steely light dawning in his eyes.

“I know that look. You’ve thought of something.”

“As a matter of fact, I have. Of course, my plan hinges on what I learn from Captain Towers. If I can get what I need from him tonight, I’ll be riding directly to Allonshire. There, I’ll elicit Drake Barrett’s cooperation.”

“Does that mean you intend to tell Drake Barrett of your work for the Crown? Prior to our fulfilling our mission?”

“Yes. I trust the man. His actions both at sea and at home have shown him to be irrefutably loyal to England. Moreover, for what I have in mind, his assistance will be not only invaluable, but necessary.”

“I see.” Boyd coughed tactfully. “May I ask, is your newly conceived plan the only reason you’re riding to Allonshire to speak with the duke?”

“I think you already know the answer to that question. No. I have another, all-important purpose for my trip. I intend to leave Allonshire with Drake Barrett’s blessing to marry Samantha.” A muscle flexed in Rem’s jaw. “Not that His Grace—or anyone—could prevent me from making Samantha my wife. But Drake means the world to Samantha, and without his approval, our wedding cannot be the magical fantasy I intend for my starry-eyed bride. So, for Samantha’s sake, I’ll swallow my pride and make a proper request. But if he fights me …” A poignant pause. “Who am I kidding?” Rem amended softly. “I’ll grovel if that’s what it takes to ensure Samantha’s happiness.” Roughly, he cleared his throat. “In any case, with Drake’s assistance and a modicum of luck, my plan should work nicely. Then, you and I will have our culprits and Briggs will have our resignations.” The shutters of the past lifted as Rem spoke. “At which point, Boyd, the war will finally be over.”

Two hours later the final battle plan commenced.

“Gresham … come in.” Harris looked totally stunned to see Rem standing in his doorway … and thoroughly exhausted from his forty-eight-hour vigil with Boyd.

“Sorry to barge in like this,” Rem apologized, shrugging out of his coat. “But I’d like to try speaking with Towers.”

“I don’t know how much good it’ll do. Between all my questions and his unfounded dread that the privateer who captured the
Bountiful
will somehow discover his whereabouts, I’d say Towers is at the end of his rope.”

“Evidently.” Glancing past Harris, Rem watched Towers pace anxiously about the sitting room. “It’s a damp night, Harris. Coffee would be just the thing to warm the chill from my bones. Would you mind making some?”

Rem’s off hand request needed no further explanation.

“Right away.” Harris disappeared into the kitchen.

Draping his coat over his arm, Rem strolled into the sitting room and lowered himself into an armchair. “Good evening, Captain.”

“If you’ve come to ask me about the privateer, I’ve already described him to Harris,” Towers replied abruptly. “I can’t remember anything more specific.” Haggard and drawn, Towers continued pacing, running a shaking hand through his hair. “I wish to God I could—the bastard took my ship, my crew—but I can’t even give you a decent enough description to ferret him out.” With a guilty look, Towers paused. “In truth, I’m sure I’d recognize him if I saw him again. But, Lord forgive me, I’m too terrified to find out.”

“You’d recognize him … and he’d recognize you,” Rem submitted quietly. “No, Towers, involving you in our search is not an option.”

Relief flooded Towers’s features. “I’m a coward, Gresham.”

“That’s not cowardice, it’s caution. Stop berating yourself. It’s undeserved. Your ordeal was harrowing. You’re lucky to be alive.” Casually, Rem lit a cheroot. “My suggestion is to stop trying to refine the description of your captor. Instead tell me about the island he took you to.”

“The island?”

Towers looked surprised, and distracted, exactly as Rem had hoped. Experience had long ago taught him that people remembered far more when they spoke spontaneously and without pressure.

“There isn’t much to say.” Towers straddled a chair, rubbing his forearm across his sweating forehead. “The island was small, grassy, with a few scattered trees and narrow stretches of sand and rock. As I told you, I have no idea where it was; we were blindfolded, our hands and feet bound.”

“They uncovered your eyes when you reached the island?”

“Yes. The sunlight was bright, though. It took me a while to recover enough to see.”

“I’m sure. Could you hear talking?”

“Yes … that’s when that scum started taunting us about Atlantis. The rest of the time he was muttering to his crew.”

“Were there many of them?”

“I saw twenty, maybe more. They did whatever he told them to.”

“They feared him.”

“We all did. There was something menacing about him.”

“I’m sure he handled his crew as brutally as he did you.”

“He was never actually violent.” Towers’s brows drew together as he tried to explain. “Our fear was based on what we knew he was capable of doing; that frigid, emotionless voice grating out his orders … like he didn’t give a damn who lived and who died. Which, of course, he didn’t.”

“How long were you on the island?”

“One night. I escaped the next morning.”

“Did he allow you food? Water?”

“We were given a few berries and some sips of water, only so we wouldn’t die before reaching our destination. They fed us when they uncovered our eyes. That was the first time the pirate captain spoke directly to me. He yanked off the cloth binding over my eyes, gripped my shirt with one of his enormous fists, and shoved some berries at me. I ate them—I was too hungry to be proud—but I wanted to spit them in his filthy, scarred face. Not long after, we were given water, then our eyes were covered again, until daybreak. I’ve already told you the rest.” Towers slumped in his chair. “Dammit, Gresham, I wish I could remember more.”

“You have.” Rem ground out his cheroot and rose. “You’ve told me enough to pick out the privateer who’s working with Summerson.”

Towers blinked. “But you said you needed a more thorough—”

“And you provided it.” Rem scooped up his coat. “Originally all you said was that he was of average height, heavyset, with black hair and a beard. Now you’ve added that he has a raspy voice, large hands, and scars on that portion of his face that is exposed. An excellent description.” Rem crossed the sitting room. “Tell Harris I couldn’t stay. Thank you, Captain Towers.”