Enter The Brethren (The Brethren of the Coast) (2 page)

“Somehow, I knew you would not cooperate.”  He thrust her atop the bunk and, before she could scramble away, wrapped her in the quilted coverlet.  There was one thing left to do before he made his escape.

Trevor walked to the large desk positioned before the stern windows and retrieved a sheet of parchment.  A familiar passage shot to the forefront of his brain, and he smiled at the sweet irony.  Of course, a few minor alterations were required to convey his intent.  Reversing the names, Trevor penned a missive similar to the one his nemesis had left him.

Randolph,

I sincerely hope to savor your dove as much as you enjoyed mine.  Your enchanting mistress will await you in London--unharmed, but a bit more experienced than when you last met.  Thanks are unnecessary.

Happy Sailing
,

Lockwood

After folding the parchment in two, he scribbled Dalton’s name on the front and propped it against the inkstand.

“Perfect.”

At that instant, his quarry fell to the floor in a clumsy heap.  And the more she struggled, the more she entangled herself in the quilt, which resulted in a slew of muffled protests.

“Shh.”  He adjusted the blanket.  “It is for your safety.  The docks are filled with randy sailors, and we do not want anyone to see you in all your glory, my dear.  You’ll incite a riot.”

The cabin door swung open, and a face he knew well peered around the edge.

“Cap’n, what are ya doin’?  We do not have all night.”

“Quiet,” he hissed to his first mate.  “Is the hall clear?”

“Aye.”

Leaning forward, Trevor hoisted his new bunkmate as a sack of wheat atop his shoulder.  His second in command took the lead, and together they crept down the hall, past the galley, and up to the main deck.  With the stealth of a predator, he slithered amid the dozing watch members.

As they descended the gangplank, his lovely catch squirmed in his grasp, and Trevor placed a hand to her bottom, patting through the thick cover.  A feminine shriek had him biting back laughter as he navigated the docks toward his ship.  With a healthy dose of desire simmering in his veins, he thought to himself:
That was too easy
.

#

The charming courtesan wiggled amid the folds of the quilt.  Soon, Trevor hoped to wiggle her into his bed.  Studying the unusual doxy from behind an oriental screen that shielded his bathing area, he was genuinely impressed when she used her teeth to loosen the belt knotted at her wrists.  Once free of her bonds, she clutched the blanket to her chin in an odd display of modesty he didn’t understand.  Whoever heard of a shy whore?

After inching to the edge of his bunk, she slipped to the floor and shuffled to his locker.  Once again, she surprised him when she carefully enveloped herself in his robe, only dropping the quilt when she was securely covered.  In an instant, her searching gaze settled on a priceless heirloom mounted on the wall.  He wondered what she would make of the large sword, with its bronze hilt and ornate décor of incised “Adam & Eve” motifs.  As she reached for the weapon, he stepped from his hiding place.

“You are not planning to use that on me, I hope.”

“Bloody hell.”  She jumped and rotated to face him.

“My, my.”  He wagged a finger.  “What naughty language from such a pretty mouth.”

“You should have made your presence known, sir.”  The ladybird cast him a sweet little pout.  “You scared me.”

“My humblest apologies.”  He sketched her a proper bow.  “There are a number of things I wish to do to you, but none involve fear.”

“I...beg...your...pardon?”

The thrill of the chase burned in his loins, raw lust rode hard in its wake, and it was past time to get down to business.  Trevor stretched to his full height and surveyed his latest conquest.

She had a delicate, heart-shaped face, a pert nose, and a succulent mouth he could devour for hours--and fully intended to at the earliest opportunity.  Best of all, beneath his scrutiny, she favored him with the same wide-eyed, open-mouthed expression she had adopted in Randolph’s cabin.

“I-I was admiring the sword.  Is it yours?”

“Aye.”  Smiling, purposefully stalking her, Trevor was surprised when his captive, and she was his captive, held her ground.  “It has been in my family for years.”

“It is lovely.”  She took a half step in retreat.

“It’s a sword.”  He took a step forward, closing the gap.  “You are lovely.”

Their eyes met, held.

“You think me lovely,” she said, in a ghost of a whisper.

“Aye.”

A surge of triumph filled his senses when he spied a pink flush spreading in her cheeks.  Soon she would be his.  Before he realized it, he reached for her.

“What are you doing?”  Panic marred her delicate features as she scurried to the opposite side of the cabin.  “I demand that you return me to Captain Randolph’s ship, posthaste.”

“No.”

“Then give me leave to--”

“Not possible.”

“Why?”  She raked her fingers through her long brown hair and began to pace.  “You cannot keep me here against my will.  That is a crime.”

“My dear, I hate to disavow you of any notion regarding your worth, but never has a man been criminally charged with keeping a courtesan.  I assure you, it is perfectly legal.”

“You took me by force.”

“Come now, let’s not call it that.”

“But that’s what you did.”

“Perhaps, but let’s not call it that.”

“You, sir, are without honor.”

“Did I ever claim to possess such a noble trait?”

With arms folded across her chest, she lifted her chin.  “I insist you free me this instant.”

“By all means, my lady.”  Trevor nodded.  “You may go.”

“Are you joking?”

“No.”

“So, I may take leave of your company?”

“If you so choose.”

With palpable shock and a wary expression, she swallowed hard, took two tentative sidesteps, and then halted.  “Thank you.”

As the fiery object of his desire turned, he gave her pause to reflect.  “However, I can give you three good reasons not to venture beyond that door.”

Over her shoulder, she eyed him with caution.  “And they are?”

“One, we are at sea.  Two, it is a long crossing to London.”

“Have you a jolly-boat?”  With an outstretched hand, she grasped the knob.  “We couldn’t have much of a start.  I can row back to port.”

“Three, you are the only woman aboard this ship.”  Trevor snapped his fingers.  “Ah, yes.  Four, you’re naked, except for my robe, which, I might add, looks quite fetching on you.”

“You must be the life of the ball.”  Shoulders slumped; she lowered her head and sighed.  “Who are you, and why are you doing this to me?”

The sadness in her voice brought him up short, and an unfamiliar guilt nagged at his conscience, which he quashed just as fast.  Perhaps a change in tack would improve his suit.

“I have already told you who I am, and I should think you’d be grateful.”

“Grateful?”  She stared at him with clenched fists.  “For what?  Being kidnapped?”

“Dove, you should consider the theatre, because you’ve a flair for dramatics.  And it is not as if you are Dalton’s wife or some other important relation.  Paramours are not permanent.”

“How dare you.”  Her blue eyes shot daggers at him as she paced his quarters.

“Calm yourself, love.  I was paying you a compliment.”

“By insulting me?”

“I did no such thing.”  Trevor pulled out a chair; sat, and propped his feet on the table to better enjoy the show.  “I merely made an observation.  And you have not been kidnapped.  You have simply been re-let.”

“Re-let?”  She blinked.  “How so?”

“As I said earlier, your guardian has passed his responsibility to me.”

“That cannot be true.”

“Why?”

The doxy opened her mouth, and then closed it.

“You believe yourself irreplaceable?”  Trevor canted his head.  “Do you not know, dove, that all courtesans are rented?”

“Perhaps we should begin at the beginning.”  The hesitant ladybird neared, pulled out the chair opposite him, and sat.  “What, precisely, did Dalton tell you of me?”

“Well, to be honest, he denied your existence, until I informed him that his men had much to say on the docks.”

“I see.”  She furrowed her brow. “And you forced him to acknowledge my presence?”

“Forced?”  He frowned.  “Now that is a harsh term.”

“One suitable to describe our relations, thus far.”

Once again, Trevor laughed.  “I will grant you that.”

“I am so happy to provide for your amusement.”  The demirep huffed and folded her arms.

“Excellent.”  Now her response garnered his fast attention.  “We should discuss terms.  What is your usual rate?”

“Terms?  Rate?”  She blinked.  “For what?”

“Why, your surrender, of course.”

“My surrender?”  The charming whore furrowed her brow.  “What, exactly, do you expect me to surrender?”

“All right, miss, I’ve had enough of your games.”  Trevor dropped his feet to the floor, leaned forward, and rested his elbows on the table.  “Acting the innocent, which may prove stimulating in more seductive scenarios, has outlived its novelty and my patience.  And it is time you gave me your name, as we are to be bunkmates during our voyage.”

She bit her lip.  After a few painful minutes, in which he was determined to wait her out, she finally responded, “You may call me Caroline, and I have no intention of sharing a bunk, or anything else, with you.”

“How lovely to make your acquaintance, Mistress Caroline.  Now, stop playing the injured party, set your price, and let us be done with it.”

“But--”

“I know Randolph was your guardian, but I am your sole protector aboard this ship, and I find your reluctance puzzling, given that most courtesans change benefactors as men change breeches.  If you approach our predicament sensibly, I am sure you and I can come to some understanding; an agreement that will allow us to pass the journey to London more...pleasantly.  And I give you leave to share the details of our liaison, including how you came to be in my custody, among your set, which should enable you to demand even more money from future customers.  As it is, you should know that I am prepared to be very generous.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you.”

#

Since their impromptu meeting in Dalton’s cabin, the handsome kidnapper had steered her into one rogue wave after another.  And despite her repeated attempts to land on her feet, Caroline had yet to gain her balance.

“You want me?”  Now she was well and truly flummoxed.  In an instant, gooseflesh covered her from head to toe, because, to her knowledge, no man had ever wanted her for any reason.  “You can’t be serious.”

“I assure you, my dear, I am very serious.”

When Caroline stowed away on Dalton’s ship, she had no idea of the consequences.  One of her oldest and dearest friends, Dalton pitied her predicament when she explained her rationale.  She had her reasons for fleeing London, and it wasn’t as if her shame were a secret.  Polite society could be anything but polite.  So she sought an escape from unwanted attention.  In short, all she wanted was to be free.

“Mistress Caroline, I do not believe Bonaparte takes this long to negotiate.”

“Sorry, Captain.”  She shook her head.  The man thought her Dalton’s paramour, and nothing could be further from the truth, but could she, and should she, enlighten the devilishly handsome stranger?  “I am unprepared, at this time, to accept an offer, any offer, from you.”

“I beg your pardon.”  Trevor sat upright.  “Are you rejecting me?”

“When you put it that way, it sounds rather awful.”

“It feels rather awful.”

With a crisp linen shirt covering broad shoulders and buckskin breeches that disappeared into polished Hessians, her captor conveyed a boyish charm mixed with the confidence of an experienced mariner that, no doubt, melted many a female heart and garnered few, if any, refusals.  A year ago, Caroline might have been vulnerable to such qualities, but not so, anymore.

“May I ask why you spurn me?” he inquired with a hint of ire.

Would that the answer to his query was simple, but she suspected he had neither the time nor the inclination to listen to her story.  And even if he did hear her out, could he sympathize with her situation and accept her choice?

“You may, but, given the circumstances surrounding my presence aboard your ship, I feel no compulsion to comply with your request, Captain.”

“I see.”  For a moment, he simply stared at her.  “Perhaps, you should take a night to--”

Caroline almost jumped out of her skin when someone pounded on the door.

Trevor frowned and slapped a fist to his palm.  “Come.”

A gray-haired, bearded man ducked his head inside.  “Cap’n, we’re well found and away, and the crew is assembled.”

“Excellent.  Your timing could not be better.”  He waved a welcome and stood.  “Come in and meet our guest.  Madam Caroline, allow me to introduce my first mate, Mr. Loman.”

“Pleased ta meet ya, ma’am.”  The crusty seaman bowed.  “And call me George.”

Caroline dipped her chin.

“I will send in my cabin boy to see to your immediate needs, my dear.”  Trevor paused at the threshold and glanced over his shoulder.  “I ask that you remain in my quarters, because you will be safe here, as no one enters without my expressed permission.  I promise you will not be disturbed, and we shall continue our discussion in the morning.”

Countless thoughts collided in her brain.  Her captor was neither pirate nor gentlemen, but that did not mean he could be trusted.  Whatever was she to do?

“I do not look forward to it.”

Alone, Caroline stared heavenward and whistled in monotone.

Well, had she not wanted to be free?

CHAPTER TWO

Snuggling close to an unexpected but much appreciated heat source to ward off the chill of a night at sea, Caroline sighed, blissful and content.  It was a few seconds before she realized what was keeping her warm.  Despite her alarm, she knew that screaming was a bad idea.  And as she had not been accosted but, instead, slept uninterrupted, she saw no reason to be afraid.  Careful not to move, she opened her eyes.  Soft rays of morning sunlight filtered through the drawn curtains, bathing the quarters in a saffron hue sufficient to confirm her suspicions.  She was sharing a bed with a man.