Read Online The Wayward One (The De Montforte Brothers Book 5) by Danelle Harmon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Danelle Harmon
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one.”
“What is it called?”
“Lucy.”
Her proud head turned to look at him. “That is absurd.”
“I name them all in me mind. Lucy… Megan… Little Susan. But if ye wish to know its proper name, that’s the mainsail. Or main course.”
“And where is dessert?”
“What?”
“If that is the main course, which one is the dessert?”
He laughed. He couldn’t help it. The sound was out of his mouth before he could stop it—not that he would have, even if he could.
“Are you quite mad, Captain O’ Devir?”
“Enchanted,” he admitted. And then, before her brows drew close in confusion and the brief moment of sparkling civility between them began to fade, he impulsively offered his elbow.
“What are you doing?” she asked, staring at it the way she might the tail of a scorpion.
“Offerin’ me arm. Would ye like a tour o’ the deck before ye go back to that boring life ye lead?”
She stared at his elbow for a long moment as though debating whether she could tolerate the idea of touching him. Then her mouth curved the tiniest bit at one corner, a reluctant smile that was gone as quickly as it appeared. “Only if you promise not to irritate me.”
“Oh, lass, ’tis beyond me to make a promise like that,” he returned with mock seriousness. “On the other hand, while I rather like to irritate ye, I’d rather save my real fighting for the Royal Navy if and when the occasion arises.”
She was still staring at his offered elbow. Perhaps she was thinking the same thing he was: That she would not be here long. That soon enough, he would have the explosive and be on his way back to Boston and he would be a distant memory for her, as she would be for him.
“Might be the only chance ye ever get to tour the deck of a warship,” he prompted.
She nodded, once. Then, raising her chin and refusing to look at him, she reached out her small gloved hand and slid it into the crook of his elbow.
Chapter 6
At about the same time his sister consented to a tour of the American Continental brig Tigershark , the Duke of Blackheath arrived at De Montforte House.
He was in a mood of sheer violence.
He had traveled hard throughout the day, and his temper was foul as he strode swiftly up the steps of the townhouse, handed his hat and gloves to the silent footman, and stalked menacingly toward the parlor where he found his brother Andrew, pale and gaunt, his russet eyes haunted as he stared down into a cup of steaming brew.
“What the devil are you doing here drinking coffee when you should be out looking for her?” he roared.
“Good afternoon to you too, brother.”
“Has she been found? Where was she last seen? Why are you sitting here doing nothing?”
“I’ve been out looking for her since she went missing early last night,” Andrew said hollowly. “So has Captain Lord and the admiral and every authority I can think to contact. She’s disappeared into thin air.”
“Not even dust just disappears into thin air. She has to be somewhere.” Lucien’s black eyes were savage in his harsh and commanding face, and the very walls seemed to shrink from his anger. “Has anyone been to inquire of Brookhampton?”
“Twice. He denies knowledge of her and told me to leave in no uncertain terms.”
“So where the hell is she?”
Andrew raised tormented eyes that were red from lack of sleep. The suffering on his face mirrored that of his eldest brother’s. “If I knew where she was, I wouldn’t be sitting here.”
Lucien took a deep and controlled breath. Panic clawed at his heart and he forced himself to take control of his temper, his emotions, his fear. He turned away so that Andrew would not see how close he was to losing his composure.
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
Andrew tipped the back of his head against the sofa and looked up at the ornately plastered ceiling. “It was a fine evening,” he began, telling Lucien about their arrival at Captain Lord’s townhouse, Nerissa’s
“What is it called?”
“Lucy.”
Her proud head turned to look at him. “That is absurd.”
“I name them all in me mind. Lucy… Megan… Little Susan. But if ye wish to know its proper name, that’s the mainsail. Or main course.”
“And where is dessert?”
“What?”
“If that is the main course, which one is the dessert?”
He laughed. He couldn’t help it. The sound was out of his mouth before he could stop it—not that he would have, even if he could.
“Are you quite mad, Captain O’ Devir?”
“Enchanted,” he admitted. And then, before her brows drew close in confusion and the brief moment of sparkling civility between them began to fade, he impulsively offered his elbow.
“What are you doing?” she asked, staring at it the way she might the tail of a scorpion.
“Offerin’ me arm. Would ye like a tour o’ the deck before ye go back to that boring life ye lead?”
She stared at his elbow for a long moment as though debating whether she could tolerate the idea of touching him. Then her mouth curved the tiniest bit at one corner, a reluctant smile that was gone as quickly as it appeared. “Only if you promise not to irritate me.”
“Oh, lass, ’tis beyond me to make a promise like that,” he returned with mock seriousness. “On the other hand, while I rather like to irritate ye, I’d rather save my real fighting for the Royal Navy if and when the occasion arises.”
She was still staring at his offered elbow. Perhaps she was thinking the same thing he was: That she would not be here long. That soon enough, he would have the explosive and be on his way back to Boston and he would be a distant memory for her, as she would be for him.
“Might be the only chance ye ever get to tour the deck of a warship,” he prompted.
She nodded, once. Then, raising her chin and refusing to look at him, she reached out her small gloved hand and slid it into the crook of his elbow.
Chapter 6
At about the same time his sister consented to a tour of the American Continental brig Tigershark , the Duke of Blackheath arrived at De Montforte House.
He was in a mood of sheer violence.
He had traveled hard throughout the day, and his temper was foul as he strode swiftly up the steps of the townhouse, handed his hat and gloves to the silent footman, and stalked menacingly toward the parlor where he found his brother Andrew, pale and gaunt, his russet eyes haunted as he stared down into a cup of steaming brew.
“What the devil are you doing here drinking coffee when you should be out looking for her?” he roared.
“Good afternoon to you too, brother.”
“Has she been found? Where was she last seen? Why are you sitting here doing nothing?”
“I’ve been out looking for her since she went missing early last night,” Andrew said hollowly. “So has Captain Lord and the admiral and every authority I can think to contact. She’s disappeared into thin air.”
“Not even dust just disappears into thin air. She has to be somewhere.” Lucien’s black eyes were savage in his harsh and commanding face, and the very walls seemed to shrink from his anger. “Has anyone been to inquire of Brookhampton?”
“Twice. He denies knowledge of her and told me to leave in no uncertain terms.”
“So where the hell is she?”
Andrew raised tormented eyes that were red from lack of sleep. The suffering on his face mirrored that of his eldest brother’s. “If I knew where she was, I wouldn’t be sitting here.”
Lucien took a deep and controlled breath. Panic clawed at his heart and he forced himself to take control of his temper, his emotions, his fear. He turned away so that Andrew would not see how close he was to losing his composure.
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
Andrew tipped the back of his head against the sofa and looked up at the ornately plastered ceiling. “It was a fine evening,” he began, telling Lucien about their arrival at Captain Lord’s townhouse, Nerissa’s
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