But that was the challenge—and she’d never backed away from one in her life.
The final outcome, she suspected, could be scored as a draw.
She might have babbled in response to several questions from Aileen and Edwina, but when they returned to the drawing room, he, distracted by the surreptitious drift of her fingertips across his wrist as she lifted her teacup from his hand, completely missed a comment-cum-question from Robert, who called him to order.
Royd shook his head as if to break a spell, then frowned and turned to answer.
It was only as she was swallowing the last of her tea that it occurred to her to wonder why—why had he taken it into his head to institute such a game now?
Tonight.
They retired all at once, climbing the stairs in a group with the ladies in front and the gentlemen following.
Awareness skittered up and down her spine as, on reaching the head of the stairs, the three couples parted, going their separate ways. Declan and Edwina entered their room and shut the door; Isobel heard the snick of the latch as she strolled with wholly assumed nonchalance toward the door to her room.
Royd prowled at her heels.
She’d swept her hair up for the evening, leaving her nape exposed; she could feel his gaze on the sensitive skin, the sensation growing more intense with every step.
She reached her door and swung to face him. To confront him.
He halted mere inches from her—so close she had to tilt her face up to meet his eyes.
In the shadows of the corridor, he appeared predatory, or so her senses informed her.
He looked down at her for three seconds, then his gaze slowly lowered to her lips—and held there.
She couldn’t help herself; the tip of her tongue slid past her lips and cruised slowly over the lower...
He caught her hands, drew them up and wide, and pressed them against the wood as, with the grace of a dancer, he stepped closer and backed her against the panel of her door.
He gave her plenty of time to avoid the inevitable.
Of course, she didn’t. That had always been her problem with him—where he led, she unfailingly followed.
Always.
His head dipped, and their lips met.
Sensation as precious as her fondest memory rolled over her. Sank into her.
Oh God, yes! How she’d missed this, ached for this—this simple communion of the senses. Driven to taste, to savor again, she parted her lips, and he angled his head, and his tongue found hers.
Stroking, heavy and wet, heated and so welcome.
She curled her fingers in his and kissed him back—long, slow—and he answered in the same vein, with a banked hunger that called to her own.
Passion surged, but they skirted it, senses whirling, yet together, still so much in tune—attuned to each other as they always had been.
So easy. It had always been so; in this sphere as in any other, they moved with one mind, with one aim, one goal.
She couldn’t hold back—she’d never learned the knack. Had never seen the sense in muting her responses, not when they so patently pleased him. Not with the scintillating web of sexual attraction spinning about them—fed equally by her as by him; slowly it enclosed them, then tightened and ensnared them.
As the kiss spun on and spun out into pleasure.
Pleasure of a type, a kind, a depth Royd had forgotten could be. He hadn’t expected the allure of the past to blossom and bloom so easily, to surge through them both so effortlessly in response to a simple kiss.
He’d intended to take just a taste—just a teasing of their senses. But he couldn’t draw back, pull back from the promise inherent in this kiss—their first in eight long years. Neither were who they had been. And who they now were, on this plane, remained to be defined.
Their hunger for each other needed no definition. No permission.
Entirely beyond his control, that hunger rose, then slipped its leash and roared.
He plunged into her mouth, intent on taking more, and she met him as she always had. Met, matched, and brazenly encouraged—
He was reaching for the handle of her door when instinct abruptly yanked on his reins.
Not yet. Not yet!
It was too early for them both—they couldn’t plunge over that cliff before either had made the decision to fly.
His head pounded with the effort—and other parts of him throbbed, too—but he wrestled his long-denied impulses down, locked them behind the wall of his will. And managed, step by step, to draw back from the glorious temptation of the kiss.
Eventually, he raised his head, and their lips parted.
From under heavy lids, he looked into her face, waited until her lush lashes rose and revealed her dark, lustrous eyes.
At the sight—a sight he hadn’t seen for too long—his libido howled and rattled its cage, but he clung to control and held firm.
And saw awareness bloom in her gaze.
Her eyes swiftly scanned his face; he had no idea what she could see—what might show to her educated scrutiny. But no words need be said; they both knew the danger. Knew the power of what existed between them, of the compulsion that, if they let it loose, could and would overwhelm them.
Years ago, it hadn’t mattered—they had indulged without restraint. But now...they were estranged, and the consequences for them both were real, if undefined.
Even as he registered the light flush in her cheeks, the faint swelling of her luscious lips, even as awareness of that dangerous compulsion swelled, a small voice in the depths of his mind asked: When had either of them ever drawn back from danger?
But his strategist’s mind had reasserted control. Yes, he could push, and she would yield. Yes, he could lead, and she would still follow, but it was too early for this, not with so much still unresolved between them. This was definitely not the way to persuade her to trust him again.
He shackled his instincts in iron, eased his hold on her hands, and edged back.
Her gaze locked with his, she tilted her head, trying to read his thoughts even as, reaching blindly, she found the doorknob and turned it. The door swung open behind her. She held his gaze for an instant more, then stepped back through the opening.
Immediately, he missed her warmth. He fisted his hands to stop himself from reaching for her.
Although her eyes didn’t leave his, he would have sworn she knew.
A lilting smile curved her lips, and her gaze locked with his to the last, she softly closed the door, and finally the contact was cut.
He exhaled. His gaze on the door, he drew in a deep breath, then turned and walked the few yards to his room.
He opened the door, walked inside, and—as quietly as she—shut the door. His gaze fell on the bed. The empty expanse of coverlet mocked him.
Feeling decidedly sour, he shrugged off his coat.
He seriously doubted he would get much sleep.
CHAPTER 3
“The tide tomorrow will run in the afternoon.” Royd attacked his breakfast, attempting to appear as hungry as he usually was. What sleep he’d managed had been wracked by dreams the like of which he’d not suffered in years.
A humbling experience to discover that one particular woman still held the power to so command his psyche.
Then again, this was Isobel.
“Should we leave here today?” Edwina asked. “Or will tomorrow morning be soon enough?”
The men looked at each other, then Robert shrugged. “I can’t see any advantage to going down today. Our crews know what they’re doing, and there’s nothing we can do to speed the provisioning.”
“All we would do is get in the way.” Declan glanced around the table. “I vote we stay until tomorrow morning.” He glanced at Royd. “We can lea
ve as early as you like.”
Isobel felt torn; this was the longest she’d been away from Duncan, yet she was perfectly certain he would be enjoying himself hugely. Today or tomorrow would make no difference to him.
As the others added their voices to the call to leave tomorrow, she felt Royd’s gaze and looked across the table. He faintly arched a brow. She hesitated for another second, then shrugged. “Tomorrow, then.”
He looked at Declan. “I agree, but we should order fast carriages.”
Declan nodded. “I’ll get Humphrey on to it. Consider it done.”
Robert was scanning a list he’d set beside his plate. “I’ve been reviewing the number of men—we’ll definitely need Lachlan’s crew and several men from Kit’s as well to be certain of having adequate numbers.” He glanced at Royd. “What do you estimate their sailing times will be?”
“I’ve told them to provision from the Bristol stores, then head directly south. They shouldn’t be that far behind The Trident.” Royd looked at Declan. “I’m assuming that, the winds being equal, The Cormorant will be the first into Freetown after The Corsair.”
Declan pushed aside his empty plate. “Exactly how are you imagining the arrivals will go? How will they align with what needs to be done?”
Edwina glanced swiftly around the table; everyone had finished eating. “Perhaps”—she pushed back her chair and rose, bringing the men to their feet—“we should repair to the drawing room and allow the staff to clear the table.” She shooed them toward the door. “We can sit in comfort and go over the plan step by step.”
They did just that. Ensconced in one corner of the sofa, Isobel listened as Royd, standing before the fireplace in a typical seafaring captain’s stance, his legs braced and his hands clasped behind his back, listed the major stages of the mission as he saw them.
“The Corsair will leave Southampton first and reach Freetown first. The Trident should follow The Corsair out of Southampton Water, with The Cormorant following. I expect The Cormorant will overtake The Trident on the way down, but I need you to arrive as close together as possible, so bear that in mind. Once there, I’ll slip into the estuary at night and stand well out from the harbor. I’ll locate Decker’s flagship and pay him a visit. We need him to act as soon as possible.” Royd glanced at Declan. “Expect to find your way barred, but the squadron will have orders to allow all Frobisher vessels through, so be sure to fly the right colors.”
Declan dipped his head. “Duly noted.”
“In addition to that,” Royd went on, “both of you will need to sail into the estuary under the cover of darkness. Assuming The Cormorant gets in first, we’ll rendezvous and see where we are.”
“You’re likely to get in at least a day if not more in advance,” Robert pointed out.
Royd nodded. “After I’ve dealt with Decker, I’ll use the time to learn what I can regarding the situation in the settlement, although obviously I can’t stride up to the governor’s residence, knock on the door, and ask.”
“So who will we ask?” Isobel had an excellent memory for details; if he was going to slip into the settlement incognito, she wanted to know where he—and she—would be headed.
Royd’s gaze rested on her, on her face, for a moment, then he replied, “I don’t yet know. We’ll see how the land lies once we’re there.”
He’d been using the pronoun “I” too much for her liking, a fact she was certain he now understood.
“Once you arrive and we rendezvous”—Royd looked at Declan—“I’ll fill you in on anything pertinent we’ve learned and hand over the settlement side of the action to you and Robert. Your objective is simple enough”—with his gaze, he included Robert—“but achieving it might not be so straightforward. You’ll need to bail up Holbrook and also the commander at the fort, and using the orders that should arrive this morning, convince both that it’s in their best interests to place an effective perimeter guard around the eastern side of the settlement. We need to ensure that, once your presence in the settlement becomes known, no communication goes via land from the settlement to the mining compound.”
“So those at the compound won’t know we’re coming, that rescue for the captives is imminent.” Robert looked at Declan. “You’ve met Holbrook—better I leave him to you and take on the commander at the fort.”
Declan slowly nodded. “You spent more time in the settlement, especially on the eastern side. You’ll have a better understanding of where the pickets should be placed.” He glanced at Royd. “While we’re doing that, I assume you’ll be off up the estuary?”
“As soon as I hand over to you, I’ll use the rest of the night to push up the estuary. We should find Lascelle’s ship standing off—a marker for where we need to go ashore. I anticipate making directly for the mining compound.”
“What about Lachlan and the reinforcements from his and Kit’s crews?” Robert asked.
“The men left aboard The Corsair and The Raven will direct Lachlan to the right path.” Royd paused, his gaze growing distant as if envisaging the action, then he refocused on Robert. “I need to reach Caleb and to spend some time reconnoitering and assessing the possibilities, so that by the time you and Declan arrive, we’ll have some idea of how to pull off the rescue.”
His expression tending grim, Robert growled, “You and Caleb will wait for us, won’t you?”
Royd grinned a pirate’s grin, but then sobered. “In this case, yes, unless something forces our hand.” He paused, then added, “If our aim is to rescue the captives with least risk to their lives, then it’s imperative we attack with the strongest force we can muster.” He glanced at Declan. “So we’ll wait for you to join us outside the compound. For obvious reasons, you shouldn’t dally in the settlement longer than absolutely necessary to ensure all communication between Freetown and the compound is cut off.”
Declan nodded. “Which brings us to the critical action—the taking of the compound. From all the information Caleb sent, unless he’s discovered some way to get us inside prior to hostilities breaking out, us getting through a palisade like that without alerting the mercenaries isn’t going to be easy.”
“Indeed.” Royd’s lips thinned. After a moment, he stated, “The greatest weakness in our position is that, even with numbers sufficient to overrun the mercenaries, with our forces all outside that damned palisade, and too few men with fighting skills inside it, there’s no effective way to keep the mercenaries away from all potential hostages—away from the women and children—long enough to cut our way inside.”
“And any such entry point is going to be obvious,” Robert pointed out. “We’ll just set ourselves up for an ambush that way.”
The ladies had been paying close attention, their gazes switching from one brother to the other as they spoke.
Isobel stirred. “The palisade.” She met Royd’s gaze. “I studied Caleb’s drawing and read Lascelle’s description. I agree with their assessment that trying to cut through the palisade as part of the attack isn’t feasible. But what if we could weaken it ahead of the attack—enough to be able to quickly bring down multiple parts of it when the attack is launched? Some breaches might act as gates to get the captives out—Caleb has already established a way to let those inside the compound know what we’re planning, so they could be ready and waiting. Other gaps, opened simultaneously, could let your men stream in.”
Royd’s gaze, locked on her face, sharpened. “Is there a way to achieve that?”
“I don’t know.” After a moment’s thought, she grimaced and glanced at the others. “I can’t be certain until I see it for myself—until I examine the construction.” Frowning, she looked back at Royd. “But there’s something familiar about that construction—the lashing and binding—and once I remember where I’ve seen it... Anything I can put together, I can also take apart.”
Declan leaned forward
and opened his mouth—
“No.” Royd held up a hand. “Leave her to think—it’ll come to her if we let her mind work on it in peace.”
He did, indeed, know her well. She looked at the others. “It will come to me—I just need to give it time.”
Robert grumbled under his breath about not having that much time, which earned him a slap on the arm from Aileen.
Royd grinned at the byplay, then sobered again. After a moment, he said, “There’s really not anything more we can plan—not until we reach the compound and can see and gauge the possibilities for ourselves.”
The general, somewhat disgruntled agreement was cut short by Humphrey, who entered to announce that luncheon was served.
They were surprised to realize the entire morning had passed. In a loose group, they made their way to the dining room, where the talk turned to Frobisher company business and the short-term impact of having the pride of their fleet pulled away on a government mission.
The three ladies listened avidly. All three put questions, establishing that, although the company derived no direct payments from the government for their services, they were covered for any losses of men or vessels, were not restricted with respect to any commercial activities they might engage in at the same time, and most important of all, in return for the provision of said services whenever required, the company was the mandated first choice for shipping contracts from a wide range of government departments.
Immediately after the meal, the three ladies retreated to their rooms to pack, while the men retired to the library to revisit their lists and go over their sailing plans yet again.
With the problem of the compound’s palisade revolving in her brain, Isobel absentmindedly headed for her room—only to realize that, as she’d been living out of her trunk, packing took no time at all. After establishing that everything that could be packed had been, she wandered down the corridor to Edwina’s room and stuck her head around the door.
Aileen was already there, perched on one side of Edwina’s big bed, while their hostess pondered a selection of gowns spread over every piece of furniture in the room.
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