ears. “And Gus’s life too.”
He stared at the dog and had the absurd thought that perhaps he should have just let them burn.
The beast’s growl had faded into a gurgle, and the dog closed his eyes in ecstasy, tilting his head so Letty could scratch the other floppy ear. After a second, the dog opened his bloodshot eyes and gave Richard a smug stare that held nothing akin to devotion. It said This is wonderful and I am smarter than you .
Richard wondered briefly if the dog was right.
He didn’t move. He didn’t breathe. He couldn’t. He stared at the smoking cloak in hand, his head already in a state of utter confusion. He tried to fathom his situation, only to find himself taking long, slow breaths, smoky breaths.
Until a moment before he was only stuck with her and that beast of a dog, in a twenty-by-twenty-foot space—with no escape. In the smoke. On a smugglers’ ship.
The wicked and wild Earl of Downe and his recompense.
Now the hellion had some bacon-brained idea that she and that obnoxious hound of hers were honor bound to him. No one, he thought—not fate, destiny, even God—could possibly be that cruel.
“I realize that our past encounters have been . . . rather, uh, awkward,” she admitted honestly.
“Rather awkward?” He was on the verge of shouting. He didn’t care. He shook the cloak at her, ignoring the new cloud of smoke that swirled around him in favor of anticipating the pure pleasure of bellowing at her.
She winced, then looked down. “Sometimes . . . things just seem to go wrong.”
Now there was an understatement. The woman was bound to be the death of him. Black eyes, broken bones, hot fires. God only knew what other delights awaited him. And yes . . . she was a woman, which irritated him even more.
Ready to bellow the bloody ship down, he opened his mouth, but a shout in the distance silenced him. There was the sound of running, as the wooden rafters above them suddenly rattled and thundered.
These were the first sounds of life he’d heard above deck. Before he could move, the door flew open and slammed hard against its jamb.
“Fire! Fire in the hold!”
A wall of icy salt water hit him. He staggered backward, coughing.
“Oh, dear,” she said.
With the smoking cloak still in his hand, he turned.
“Stop!” she shouted.
Another ocean of water hit him. The cloak sizzled. He slowly swiped the water from his face, trying to see through a burning blur of sea water.
Two scruffy-looking smugglers with empty buckets stepped away from the doorway, and another older man in a bright yellow shirt stepped inside. He pointed an ominous-looking pistol directly at Richard’s chest.
The hellhound barked a greeting, then jumped up and trotted cheerfully over to the smugglers, where he sniffed their shoes and legs, his tail wagging, his canine face filled with the joyful, panting welcome of man’s best friend.
Water dripped from Richard’s cloak, from his head, from his clothing, to plop loudly onto his sandy boots. He turned slowly, intending to tell the hellion what he thought about the honor and loyalty of her pet.
He froze.
She and her dog wore the same expression.
“For God’s sake woman, what the devil are you smiling at?”
She gave a huge sigh. “You look just as you did on the first day we met.”
“Stand where ye be!”
Letty reluctantly tore her gaze away from Richard and looked toward the smuggler who had shouted. He raised the gun slightly before he glanced down at Gus.
“There, there, ye hearty fellow. Took a liking to old Phelim , did ye?”
Gus, who had taken an instant dislike to Richard, was licking the smuggler’s free hand as if they’d been friends for life.
Letty cast a quick glance at Richard and blanched. Never taking his eyes off Gus, he gripped his dripping cloak in a white-knuckled hand, then raised his other hand and began to slowly, methodically, wring and twist the garment. Water pattered onto the wooden floor.
“
He stared at the dog and had the absurd thought that perhaps he should have just let them burn.
The beast’s growl had faded into a gurgle, and the dog closed his eyes in ecstasy, tilting his head so Letty could scratch the other floppy ear. After a second, the dog opened his bloodshot eyes and gave Richard a smug stare that held nothing akin to devotion. It said This is wonderful and I am smarter than you .
Richard wondered briefly if the dog was right.
He didn’t move. He didn’t breathe. He couldn’t. He stared at the smoking cloak in hand, his head already in a state of utter confusion. He tried to fathom his situation, only to find himself taking long, slow breaths, smoky breaths.
Until a moment before he was only stuck with her and that beast of a dog, in a twenty-by-twenty-foot space—with no escape. In the smoke. On a smugglers’ ship.
The wicked and wild Earl of Downe and his recompense.
Now the hellion had some bacon-brained idea that she and that obnoxious hound of hers were honor bound to him. No one, he thought—not fate, destiny, even God—could possibly be that cruel.
“I realize that our past encounters have been . . . rather, uh, awkward,” she admitted honestly.
“Rather awkward?” He was on the verge of shouting. He didn’t care. He shook the cloak at her, ignoring the new cloud of smoke that swirled around him in favor of anticipating the pure pleasure of bellowing at her.
She winced, then looked down. “Sometimes . . . things just seem to go wrong.”
Now there was an understatement. The woman was bound to be the death of him. Black eyes, broken bones, hot fires. God only knew what other delights awaited him. And yes . . . she was a woman, which irritated him even more.
Ready to bellow the bloody ship down, he opened his mouth, but a shout in the distance silenced him. There was the sound of running, as the wooden rafters above them suddenly rattled and thundered.
These were the first sounds of life he’d heard above deck. Before he could move, the door flew open and slammed hard against its jamb.
“Fire! Fire in the hold!”
A wall of icy salt water hit him. He staggered backward, coughing.
“Oh, dear,” she said.
With the smoking cloak still in his hand, he turned.
“Stop!” she shouted.
Another ocean of water hit him. The cloak sizzled. He slowly swiped the water from his face, trying to see through a burning blur of sea water.
Two scruffy-looking smugglers with empty buckets stepped away from the doorway, and another older man in a bright yellow shirt stepped inside. He pointed an ominous-looking pistol directly at Richard’s chest.
The hellhound barked a greeting, then jumped up and trotted cheerfully over to the smugglers, where he sniffed their shoes and legs, his tail wagging, his canine face filled with the joyful, panting welcome of man’s best friend.
Water dripped from Richard’s cloak, from his head, from his clothing, to plop loudly onto his sandy boots. He turned slowly, intending to tell the hellion what he thought about the honor and loyalty of her pet.
He froze.
She and her dog wore the same expression.
“For God’s sake woman, what the devil are you smiling at?”
She gave a huge sigh. “You look just as you did on the first day we met.”
“Stand where ye be!”
Letty reluctantly tore her gaze away from Richard and looked toward the smuggler who had shouted. He raised the gun slightly before he glanced down at Gus.
“There, there, ye hearty fellow. Took a liking to old Phelim , did ye?”
Gus, who had taken an instant dislike to Richard, was licking the smuggler’s free hand as if they’d been friends for life.
Letty cast a quick glance at Richard and blanched. Never taking his eyes off Gus, he gripped his dripping cloak in a white-knuckled hand, then raised his other hand and began to slowly, methodically, wring and twist the garment. Water pattered onto the wooden floor.
“
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