Read Online Duke by Day, Rogue by Night by Katherine Bone - Free Book Online Page B

smiled. Henry was not her lover. Lady Constance had been through an unconscionable ordeal and relived the moments in her dreams, calling out to the first capable man she knew could save her. But Henry had failed to answer her prayers. It had been Percy’s prowess, Percy’s quick reaction that had kept her from being ravished by Frink. To take advantage of the woman he’d championed now would only align him with the likes of Frink and his men, in her eyes.
    Percy closed his eyes and directed his thoughts to his sister, willing her petite form to reappear, just as he’d done a thousand times before to fuel his anger. Long black hair, dimpled cheeks, and trusting purity — Celeste. Nearly a year ago, when he’d been called away to duty, his young sister had been forcibly taken from the family landau, leaving his father badly crippled, never to recover. Unrelenting in his pursuit of her attackers, Percy had tracked Celeste to the docks, where he’d discovered that she’d been forced aboard a ship and ill-used. Much to his dismay, he would later discover her abused and left to grovel in the streets like a common doxy, hovelling in the shipyard, uttering nonsense, professing one word — fox — over and over again. Consumed by disease, spirit broken, Celeste had lasted but a few months after she’d been found. Percy had been forced to watch her die a slow, agonizing death. And since that time, he’d been consumed with a hatred yet to be staunched. Even now, thoughts of Celeste’s suffering fired up his rage, a rage that had served him well under Frink’s command.
    Body tense, his goal in place once again, Percy opened his eyes. The dawn of a new day filtered through the ornate window occupying the back wall of the cabin. The fiery glow cast a golden haze upon all he surveyed — all but his heart. Frowning, longing to ignore the call to rise because he took great pleasure in the feel of Constance’s tender flesh against his own, Percy knew he would never get another chance to be so intimate with a lady of her worth. Days of trivial pursuits were gone. Nothing and no one existed now but Thomas Sexton and those who would pay with their mortal souls for what they’d done to Celeste.
    No longer able to prolong the inevitable, Percy eased out of the coverlet, rose from the bed, and stepped away from the bunk. Naked and stiff, in more ways than one, he reached for his discarded trousers, shook them out and yanked them on. He then picked up his shirt but noticed, as he retrieved it from the floor, it had experienced the worse for wear during his battle with Frink. The garment was a holey, ruined mess. His gaze settled upon Frink’s trunk. Though the man was shorter than he, and more rotund, he crossed the distance, opened the lid, and rummaged through the contents, casting aside one garish selection after another until he found a plain black shirt wadded in the bottom. For a slight moment, he wondered who the shirt had once belonged to, for it certainly did not fit the captain’s size or style. Then, casting off the question, he slipped his arms into the flowing, ruffled sleeves and tucked the long ends of the shirt into his breeches, leaving the laced front gaping open across his chest.
    Hands on his hips, he looked about the cabin. A fine work of carpentry it was, giving credit to the captain’s rank. Frink, he was surprised to find, had outfitted the Striker with the best, lining the walls in rich mahogany. Bookcases filled one portion of the west cabin wall. A section, cordoned with glass cabinets, held liquor, showcasing one of Frink’s many vices.
    Stepping over to the cabinet, Percy touched the fine-etched glass. The artistry was quite good. How had Frink financed the skilled laborers?
    Whoever had been backing the man had to have been someone of great importance. For no other could have sponsored such opulence. The liquor in the cabinet stared back at