Read Online Her Master and Commander by Karen Hawkins - Free Book Online

was no more for the sea, he’d come here to hide. To lick his wounds and wait for death. He’d had no greater purpose than that.
    But something had happened. After he’d arrived, Stevens had come. The first mate had been wounded at Trafalgar as well. Given a tiny pension and set on land, he’d had nowhere to go.
    So, Stevens had gone to his former captain. He’d sent no word of his imminent arrival, and indeed, Tristan, sunk in a three-month drunk, had been vaguely surprised, but also relieved. At least he wouldn’t die alone.
    Stevens was but the first arrival at the cottage by the sea. One by one, the wounded came to visit…and then stay. Now, almost every room in the cottage housed three or four, and sometimes more, men. Stevens ran it all like a ship, even setting rotating dinner bells so the galley wasn’t overrun at any time.
    For Tristan, the nearness of his former shipmates was a blessing. They gave him a purpose. The only problem was, his rather meager pension was not enough to put food on the table and pay the doctor’s bills. He’d been fortunate in his service and had put away some small amounts for investments. Those had paid and paid well. But with the constant drain, Tristan knew it was only a matter of time before he had to close the doors of his little house.
    His sprightly neighbor would certainly like that. Especially if he took his sheep with him. Tristan almost chuckled at the memory of the lady’s outraged expression when he’d smoked his pipe in front of her. She was hot at hand, that one. Sparkling and fiery, like tinder to a match. He’d rather enjoyed this morning’s little exercise. It had momentarily chased away the cobwebs of his existence. He wondered what she’d do if he removed her cloak the next time she visited.
    A sharp rap sounded and Stevens stuck his head into the room. “Cap’n?”
    Tristan, deprived of such a pleasant daydream as his neighbor unfurling her charms, cast a surly eye toward his first mate. “Aye?”
    Stevens entered the room, his cap clasped between his hands. “Sorry t’bother ye, but do ye remember that coach and t’other carts we saw humpin’ up the cliff road?”
    The coach. He’d allowed himself to forget it, but all of his earlier thoughts returned. Tristan’s heart chilled, and every last vestige of brandy evaporated from his mind, leaving him with crystalline clarity. “They’ve arrived.”
    “Aye. There’s a crew of them, but only two come to the door. A tall, slender fellow and a short, dumpy one. ’Tis the tall one as gives me the shivers.” Stevens glanced over his shoulder, then lowered his voice to say, “He’s a mite bossy.”
    “Tell him to go the hell away,” Tristan said harshly.
    Stevens kneaded his cap. “I would, Cap’n. In fact, I done tol’ them ye were not here, but the one man looked down his nose at me and…well…” The cap was so twisted that Tristan wondered if it could ever be used again. “I hates to say this,” Stevens finally burst out, “perhaps ye should see this bloke.”
    “No.”
    Stevens didn’t look very convinced. “But—”
    “I know these men. They work for the earl of Rochester, don’t they?”
    “Well, yes. In a manner of speakin’, they do. But—”
    “I want nothing to do with them.”
    “But—”
    “That is an order, Stevens. Do you understand?”
    “Aye, sir.” The first mate sighed heavily. “I tol’ them ye’d not see them, I did.”
    “Then tell them again.”
    “Aye, aye, Cap’n.” With a shake of his head, Stevens left.
    Tristan was afforded an entire two minutes of peace before a knock once again sounded at the door. It opened, only this time it was not Stevens but a stranger who walked in.
    Tall and thin, with a patrician face and dark hair touched with white, the man carried himself like a peer to the realm. His blue eyes surveyed Tristan from head to toe.
    Tristan scowled, refusing to rise. “Who the hell are you?”
    Another man peered around the first