Read Online Kiss From a Rogue by Shirley Karr - Free Book Online Page B

farther from the fire—the room was getting too warm.
    She shifted her thoughts to her coming meeting with the captain. Mr. Sinclair’s scent was not offensive. True, he had tried to take liberties with her person, but nothing like what Ruford aimed for. Sinclair’s hand had been on her lower back only because she’d been sitting on his chest.
    She remembered the feel of his muscles. He had strength, vitality, intelligence. And yes, drat him, charm. “Mr. Sinclair, have you ever dealt with a nefarious person before?”
    “One of my chums has his own ship. While Nick may be a gentleman, his crewmen are not. I assure you, I can handle your smuggling captain.”
    So he was comfortable around ships? That had to be in their favor.
    “My lady, this is the best way to be rid of the captain’s advances.” Galen patted Mr. Sinclair’s knee again. “The lad’s willing, and the men will keep an eye on you both.”
    There was a chorus in the affirmative. Her men sat straighter, their hands once again going to their weapons.
    Her men would keep her safe, as they had always done. They may have lost some of the spring in their step, but with so many of them, what could go wrong?
    Mr. Sinclair would be the one to deal with the captain, with Ruford’s malodorous person and putrid breath, his roaming hands and leering gaze. Not her. She almost sagged with relief.
    Was it wrong to use Mr. Sinclair as a shield? He didn’t seem averse to the idea. Indeed, he was staring at her as a starving man would a buffet.
    The important men in her life—father, uncle, husband—had all let her down at a crucial time. Could she trust Mr. Sinclair to hold up his end of their bargain? He certainly seemed eager to hold her, at any rate.
    Well, it was only for tonight, and tomorrow Mr. Sinclair would be on his way. The captain would mind his manners in the future if he thought she had remarried.
    “You’ll need different clothes.” Sylvia stood up. “Those fine garments you’re wearing will only make the captain want to charge us even more for each load.”
    “He only brought but one little bag with him,” Mrs. Spencer volunteered.
    “Traveling light.” Mr. Sinclair brushed some flour from his sleeve. “I didn’t expect to be taking part in a theatrical production.”
    “I could fetch some of my husband’s things.” Mrs. Spencer pointed over her shoulder.
    Aside from the incredible difference in size and build between the two men—Mr. Sinclair’s trim frame would be adrift in Spencer’s tent-sized shirt—the innkeeper’s coarse working-class clothes wouldn’t suit their charade. “Thank you, but I don’t wish to inconvenience you any more than we already have,” Sylvia said. “I think Hubert’s clothes might be a closer fit for the role.”
    The smug look on Mr. Sinclair’s face acknowledged that she’d taken note of his person. Would he be so self-satisfied if he knew she’d not only looked her fill, but felt along his limbs, as well? Her hands burned.
    The clock on the mantel chimed the hour.
    “We best be getting up to the manor house, then,” Trent said. “Ain’t enough time to go fetch clothes, bring ’em back here, and still get down to the beach.” He turned to Mr. Sinclair. “Can ye walk, lad, or did the boys hit you too hard?”
    Mr. Sinclair stood up to his full height, shoulders back. “Lead the way.”
    “Good luck, my lady!” Mrs. Spencer called as everyone headed out.
    The seven men surrounded Mr. Sinclair as they walked up the hill to the manor, with Jimmy and Galen on either side of Sylvia.
    “We’ll be right beside you the whole time.” Jimmy patted the hilt of his cutlass. “We won’t let the bugger get away with anything.”
    Sylvia wasn’t sure which bugger he was referring to, but it didn’t really matter.
    Gerald opened the front door when they arrived, his white hair sticking up in tufts around his nightcap. He clutched his dressing gown closed. “I suppose there’s no point