How the Lady Was Won

by Shana Galen

  “You have a point,” he said. He pulled back and helped her to her feet. She tried to right Brown’s livery, but it seemed hopeless. When she adjusted the bodice, trying to put it back in place, she glanced at Colin, who quickly looked away. “I’ll just go back to my desk.”

  “I’ll go back to my drawers.” She bent to lift the pile of papers she’d been reading and then remembered something her father had mentioned one night at a dinner party. She hadn’t really been paying attention until she heard Battersea’s name. It was something about insurance. He had collected a large settlement from his insurance agent. Something about lost goods on the Ranger. She had not realized at the time, but now she wondered if the Ranger might not be a ship. Leaving her piles of documents where they were, she rose and went to the drawer with the files for R. She sorted through them, but there was no file for Ranger where it should have been.

  Perhaps she had not heard correctly. Idly, she continued thumbing through the files, trying to remember the conversation. She was almost to the bottom of the drawer when she saw RA.

  Daphne held her breath. RA should not be filed so far away from the top of the pile. She lifted the other files out and stared down at a filed labeled RANGER.

  Perhaps she’d been paying more attention than she thought.

  Daphne sank to the floor, not caring if she didn’t look ladylike, and opened the file. She perused the cargo log. It detailed crates of spices, wines, silks, and other fabrics bound for Canada. There were other goods as well—muskets, gun powder, books—but the majority of the cargo appeared to be luxury items. There was nothing unusual about that. Canada was a vast unchartered land situated across an entire ocean. They would have to import spices and silks and probably exported furs and timber.

  Feeling a bit disheartened, she paged listlessly through course charts and names and salaries of the various captain and crew.

  “Find anything?” Colin asked.

  She looked up to find him watching her. “I don’t think so. I remembered my father discussing lost goods on a ship called Ranger. I thought Battersea owned it, and I’ve found the file here. But everything looks in order.”

  Colin’s green eyes narrowed. “That does sound familiar. Something about an insurance settlement. It must have been substantial if it was in the papers.”

  She looked back at the documents she’d set aside. “Did the ship sink? Why would he receive an insurance settlement?”

  “Shall I take a look?”

  “Yes.” She patted the floor beside her. “It will take me at least another quarter hour to go through this. If you take part, we can do it in half the time.”

  He crossed the room and sat beside her. She handed him a stack of loose papers and took the captain’s log for herself. She’d already begun it and found it rather tedious, but she could finish it if Colin looked at the other materials.

  The captain wrote daily of the wind and the weather and the course corrections. There was apparently an issue with one sailor on board, and he had been confined to the brig for drunkenness. That was the extent of the excitement. She turned the page and found the log had skipped several days.

  “This is odd.”

  Colin glanced up at her. “What is?”

  “These pages are missing from the log. It’s”—she looked at the dates and flipped back and forth—“about a week’s worth of annotations.”

  “I will look through these, but the papers I have pertain to the insurance settlement.”

  Daphne leaned close and studied the papers Colin held between them. “Five thousand pounds for silks?”

  “And another three thousand for the other fabrics. I haven’t read all the documents, but it appears the Ranger was set upon by privateers who boarded and took the silks, muslins and laces, and gunpowder.”

  She met Colin’s gaze. “Not the muskets?”

  His brows lifted. “That was my thought as well. Even if a pirate had plenty of weapons, they could always use more. And muskets are more valuable than gunpowder.”

  “Is there an explanation?”

  He turned the pages and pointed to a section about a quarter of the way down one piece of parchment. “It says that the crew were alerted to the presence of the other ship and fought the pirates before they could load the muskets on their ship. Apparently, the pirates boarded under cover of darkness and when the crew was short one man on watch.”

  Daphne nodded. “There was a crew member in the brig for drunkenness.”

  Colin looked up at her, his gaze meeting hers. Daphne was uncomfortably aware of how close they were. She could feel the heat of his body seeping into hers. “So the story is plausible,” Colin said.

  Daphne watched his lips move. She couldn’t help thinking what nice lips he had. They were always so soft and teasing when he kissed her.

  “Daphne?”

  “Hmm?” She looked back at his eyes.

  “I said the story is plausible. At least the insurance company thought so.”

  “Right.” She had to avoid looking at his lips. Instead she looked back at the documents he held. “But I’m still curious about those missing pages of the log.” Perhaps looking at his hands was not better than his lips. He had long, straight fingers with rounded tips and blunt nails. He’d touched her in the most private of places with those fingers. He seemed to know how to work magic with them.

  “Is there anything in the log about the attack?”

  “I’ll see.” Daphne blew out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, glad for something to do besides look at Colin. Being close to him was distracting. But even when she didn’t look at him, when she kept her focus on the pages of the log as she leafed through it, she inhaled his scent with every breath she took. It was a mixture of soap and something musky he must have used to shave. Or perhaps it was in his soap. It smelled clean and woodsy, and she wanted to bury her nose in his neck and inhale more deeply. And then she was imagining burying her face against his neck, brushing her lips against the skin there, darting her tongue out to taste his flesh.

  “Are you even reading those pages?” he asked.

  She stopped, realizing she had just been turning pages without reading a word. “No, I...I’m distracted.” She chanced a look at his face, which wore an expression of amusement.

  “By what?”

  She looked away. “Nothing. I’ll look again.” She turned back to the last page of the log she remembered reading.

  “Daphne.”

  She jumped at the quiet way he said her name.

  “What?”

  “Am I distracting you?”

  She cleared her throat which seemed rather tight with him so close. “It might have been better when you were over there.” She pointed to the desk.

  “Why?” Oh, he was enjoying this. She could hear the amusement in his voice.

  “Because then I couldn’t smell you.”

  “What?”

  They both froze as Lord Jasper’s footfalls sounded rapidly on the stairs. He paused at the doorway. “Lights out. Someone is coming.”

  Thirteen

  “What do you mean, someone is coming?” Daphne asked, fear clutching her chest and squeezing tightly.

  “I think it might be the Watch. There’s two of them.”

  Colin rose and shuttered the lamp on the desk and then Daphne did the same to the one beside her. The room was thrust into darkness, and she could just discern Lord Jasper’s shape in the door frame.

  “Stay in here,” he said. “I’ll close the door. You lock it and keep quiet and still.”

  “Where will you be?” Colin asked.

  “There are a dozen places to hide on the ground floor. If they suspect someone is here, I don’t think they’ll come upstairs, but I’ll stop them before they reach you.” He closed the door. Daphne didn’t hear him walk away, but Colin made his way carefully to the door and locked it.

  “How will he stop them?” Daphne asked.

  “It’s better not to ask him
too many questions,” Colin murmured. “He won’t answer, and if he does, you might not like what he says.”

  “That sounds ominous.” And then she ceased whispering and listened because she heard the sound of a man’s voice coming closer. Lord Jasper had been correct. There were men approaching. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they were definitely nearing the shipping offices.

  What if they were Battersea’s employees or Battersea himself? She shivered and Colin, who had returned to sitting beside her, put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. “There,” he said, whispering in her ear. “Now you can smell me better.”

  She elbowed him in the ribs, and he groaned. “Watch my ribs.”

  She’d forgotten he’d bruised them. “Sorry, but you are incorrigible.”

  “True enough. And now that you’re close, I can smell your perfume. What is it? It smells pink.”

  “What does pink smell like?” she whispered.

  “Sweet and a little tart”—he sniffed again—“and pretty.”

  She laughed quietly. “I am hardly sweet.”

  “And you’re much more than pretty.” His lips grazed her neck, nuzzling the sensitive flesh there. She let out a shaky breath as the lips she’d been admiring earlier made her entire body come alive. It felt as though tiny little fires licked their way up her skin from the tips of her toes to her weak knees to her inner thighs and higher.

  But she also couldn’t quite get the image she’d had of her own lips on his skin out of her mind. She turned toward him, careful to make no sound, as it seemed the Watch had paused outside the building and were smoking and talking. She could hear their low voices as she ran her hands up Colin’s shirt.

  “What are you doing?” he whispered.

  “I want to kiss you.” She pushed the papers off his lap, not caring if she made a mess of the Ranger file, and climbed over his legs to straddle his thighs. It was an extremely unladylike position, but it was too dark for him to see much more than her shadow. Colin didn’t seem to mind her unladylike behavior, though. He pulled her closer to him, so their bodies were flush.

  “That’s better,” he said.

  “Much.” She found his collar with her hand and pushed it open. His clothing was coarse as would befit a sailor, and he wore a loose neck cloth she easily pushed out of the way. She unfastened two buttons, parting his shirt at the throat. She could hear that his breath had sped up, but he hadn’t stopped or questioned her.

  Daphne leaned forward to press her lips against the bare skin of his neck just where his collarbone met his shoulder. She inhaled, and there was that clean, masculine scent again. She pressed her lips against the flesh there then moved them slightly higher until she could feel his rapidly beating pulse. She licked it and he made a quiet groan.

  “You taste as good as you smell,” she whispered. His hands came up to rest on her waist as she bent to nuzzle his neck again. She traced a path to his earlobe and nipped at it lightly. His hands tightened. It seemed that particular action had the same effect on him as it did on her.

  She explored further, finally reaching his jaw and tracing the rough stubble to his mouth. He was waiting for her, his mouth warm and ready as he opened for her, kissing her back. She could feel the desire in the way he held her, kissed her. It made her dizzy. Their tongues met, and she rocked against him, suddenly aware of the hard bulge between them.

  “Is that?” she asked then stopped because she didn’t know what to call it.

  “My cock?” he whispered against her lips. “I’m hard for you.”

  “That’s what happened on our wedding night when you...” She didn’t want to remember the pain, though she knew he had tried to be gentle.

  “It happens to me every time I touch you.” His hands ran up and down her back. “Every time I kiss you. You don’t seem to understand how much I want you.”

  “I want you too,” she said. She wanted him desperately. Her body was on fire for him, and she didn’t care that they were in Battersea’s office or that there were men standing below or that he didn’t love her. She was a woman who wanted a man, who wanted her husband.

  Her hand came between them, tracing the length and hardness of him, but when she started to loose the fall of his trousers, he stopped her. “Not here and now,” he said. “I made a poor job of it the first time. I’m not following that by taking you on the hard floor of this bastard’s office.”

  She licked his neck again. “But I want you, Colin. I’ve hardly been able to read a word since you sat beside me. I want your hands on me.”

  “I think that can be arranged.” And she felt his hands slide under her skirts to the skin of her thigh just above her garters. Oh, yes. She knew what he would do to her now. She leaned back, giving him access, as he traced a slow path to where her body throbbed.

  “You’re becoming a wanton,” he murmured.

  “I can’t help it.” She inhaled sharply as his hand grazed her core. “The things you do to me.”

  His fingers teased and enticed. “Do you know what I plan to do to you tomorrow night? In our bed?”

  “No—Oh.” She moaned.

  “Shh.”

  She nodded, clamping her lips shut but allowing her hips to move against his talented fingers.

  “Do you want me to tell you?”

  “Please.”

  “I’ll undress you. Slowly and in the lamplight. I want to see every inch of you.” He dipped a finger inside her, and her body clamped tight to it as she rocked against his palm, which pressed hard to the place she most needed his touch.

  “I want to kiss every inch of you,” he whispered. “Especially here.” His thumb moved in a circle and she made a small whimper.

  “Colin, please,” she begged. She was so close to the pleasure she knew he could bring her, but it seemed when she came close, he pulled back, teasing her, making her wait.

  “And when I have you naked and sated, your body flush with pleasure, that’s when I’ll take you.”

  “How?” she asked, his voice, his words making her heart pound in time to the throbbing of her body.

  “I’ll part your legs and slide my cock inside you. Like this.” His finger slid in and out of her. “So slowly. Filling you. Making you cry out in pleasure. You won’t have to be quiet like you do tonight.”

  She almost sobbed with need. “I want you now,” she murmured.

  “You want pleasure. Then take it.” He pressed his thumb against her, and she moved against it until the pleasure crescendoed and crashed over her. Colin put a hand over her mouth, but she bit her lip to stay quiet. When the swirling ecstasy subsided, she collapsed against him, limp and used, and smiling.

  He kissed her cheek, and in that moment, she wanted to believe he cared for her. At least a little.

  COLIN HELD DAPHNE CLOSE, liking the feel of her soft, warm body pressed to his. He worried he was becoming too used to having her close, to touching her body, to holding her. But then again, he was an adult male. He had needs he had put aside for years, and once he’d had her, he wouldn’t think of her so much. He wouldn’t have to worry he was beginning to feel too much for her.

  He hadn’t expected to feel anything more than attraction and affection for her. She’d always been beautiful and vivacious. He’d liked her. He just hadn’t wanted to marry her. But then he hadn’t wanted to marry anyone at twenty-two years of age. He’d wanted freedom and adventure and to see the world.

  Now he’d had all of that and more, and even before the Duchess of Warcliffe had come to him, demanding he intervene with her daughter, he had been thinking it was time to mend the relationship with his wife.

  His wife. Daphne—who was smart and resourceful, brave and passionate, independent and loyal. And yes, a bit reckless. But she’d taken responsibility for her mistakes with Battersea. She didn’t expect anyone else to fix her problems, and she wasn’t too proud to accept help either.

  He liked her.

  He remembered her as
being pouty and needy in her pink with dozens of bows. But now he saw that she had been as unsure of things between them as he had been. She had probably been scared and hopeful.

  He’d let her down. He had not been what she needed. Colin pulled her closer and vowed not to let her down again. And didn’t that strike fear into his heart? He doubted he could be what she needed, but he wanted to try. Maybe she wouldn’t demand he crack open his chest and expose his heart as he feared. Maybe she was willing to take pleasure and affection and leave it there.

  And who the hell was he fooling?

  Daphne gave a sated sigh and pulled back from him. “I don’t hear the voices any longer. Do you think they’ve moved on?”

  He didn’t hear them either, which meant they probably had. Jasper would be back in a moment to give the all-clear. As though he’d summoned the bounty hunter, he heard Jasper’s quiet footsteps on the stairs. The fact that he heard Jasper at all meant the man was giving him notice of his approach. Colin helped Daphne to her feet and rose himself. His cock protested being ignored yet once more, but Colin managed to cool his ardor by imagining Pugsly’s ugly little face.

  “Colin?” Jasper tapped on the door.

  “Are they gone?” Colin asked, voice low. He crossed the room to open the door. Jasper hadn’t lit his lantern again.

  “I think so. I didn’t want to take any chances. You can light the lantern in here. There are no windows.”

  Colin moved to the place he’d left the lamp, and fumbled about until he managed to light it again. He turned to look at Jasper and Daphne, who stood on opposite sides of the room. Jasper looked as he always did in his dark cloak and mask, but it was difficult to get used to seeing Daphne in servants’ livery. Her hair was disheveled and her cheeks pink, but she looked less debauched than he’d feared.

  “Made any progress?” Jasper asked.

  “We have, actually,” Colin said, and told Jasper what they’d found and what they had not found—the missing pages of the log book.