Captivating the Captain (Scandals and Spies Book 6)

by Leighann Dobbs

  He stiffened. “I assure you, I do not think of you in a brotherly manner, and neither do the men above. The only thing running through their minds is how best to separate you from your drawers. Ask your fiancé, if you don’t believe me. Men are the basest of animals, and men who have been separated from women for lengths of time are even worse.”

  Unimpressed by his warning, she crossed her arms. The movement pressed her skirt against her slim waist and emphasized the swell of her breasts.

  Where he should certainly not be looking.

  She didn’t appear to notice his wandering gaze. “Don’t think you can shock me, Anthony. And for the record, I have no fiancé to ask.”

  He frowned. “I beg your pardon?” She had explicitly bragged to him that she had one, the man she was set to marry.

  Please, for the love of Jove, let the man she had her sights on know that she intended to marry him. Though it would be that fellow’s problem if he doesn’t. Not Gray’s. The moment they landed in France, he was going to wash his hands of her. Battling a fleet of French ships was less of a headache than trying to deal with this woman and keep a civil tongue in his head.

  She lowered her voice and leaned closer. “I’m not going to France to get married.”

  He had to have misheard. “You told me—”

  “I know what I told you,” she snapped. “That’s the lie we’re telling so no one guesses the truth.”

  The truth being that no one wants to marry her? Gray would have guessed that the moment they crossed paths. Now, atop being ungrateful for his assistance, she was confessing to have manipulated him into taking her someplace he didn’t want to go.

  “So I’m taking you to France on a lark?”

  “No.” She blinked rapidly, her thick eyelashes veiling her gaze for a moment. “Of course not. Don’t be absurd.”

  Nothing about this situation was sensible.

  “I need to go to France in order to find my father.” Her eyes were big, her lips parted, and her voice no higher than a whisper.

  He relaxed his pose, dropping his hands loosely at his sides. Why hadn’t she told him this to begin with? If her father was missing—he must be, given the way she spoke of the matter—then he would have been much more amenable to lending his ship. He still would have needed to garner permission from his superiors, but he would have been much less of a prat about it. He took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

  “No one can know,” she whispered back. She leaned forward, grasping his arm and squeezing.

  He must be as bad as his men, because he couldn’t stop thinking about the length of her fingers around his bicep.

  She confessed, “If you weren’t family, I wouldn’t be telling you. My father is believed to be dead, and it is imperative that people continue to think so.”

  He frowned. “Why?”

  “He’s a Crown spy.”

  That explained Lord Strickland’s involvement in the matter. “And he’s gone missing from his post?”

  She nodded. “Precisely.”

  Perhaps that was why she had been acting so waspish and unladylike; she worried for her father. He could understand that. Granted, most young ladies would worry at home, not gallivant into enemy territory. She didn’t seem to realize the danger she was putting herself in. Did anyone else? “And Lord Strickland sent you to look for him.”

  Miss Vale nibbled on her lower lip. “Not exactly. I doubt he knows I’m involved. My mother volunteered to search—”

  As Gray opened his mouth, she cut him off.

  “Mama is a Crown spy, too.”

  Her family was riddled with them. Next, she would tell him that her sister, his brother’s wife, was also involved in the spy business. He took a steadying breath. “Very well. Your secret is safe with me.”

  Relief blossomed across her face along with a winsome smile. “Thank you. I knew I could rely on you.”

  He held up his hand. With the movement of his arm, she released her hold on him. Without her touch, he felt strangely bereft. He’d been aboard ship too long. What he needed was a long shore leave to work free his frustrations. Perhaps once he delivered her to France, he would put in a request for one.

  “I’ll let you know when we reach France.” He nodded toward the nearest cabin, assigned to her.

  Her chin firmed. “I won’t fall off the ship. I want to be above deck.”

  “No. I forbid it.”

  “You forbid it?” Outrage crossed her face, making her eyes glint with promise. It wasn’t a promise any man likely wanted to have acted out upon him.

  Gray held his ground. “Yes. I am the captain, and I forbid your presence on deck without an escort.”

  “You are not my guardian,” she snapped. “You cannot tell me what to do.”

  He bristled. “I can, and I will.”

  A wisp of scent from her hair wafted to him. It smelled of citrus. How had she managed that? He likely smelled of sea and sweat. What little fresh water there was aboard a ship was kept for drinking.

  Nevertheless, that delicate, feminine scent made him weak-kneed. It had been too long since he’d been at port. And longer, still, since he hadn’t been forced to set an example for his men by restraining his extracurricular activities. He missed the way a woman smelled. He missed the way she felt against his body. The way Charlie would feel, if she lost her balance and fell into him.

  He absolutely could not let her above deck. If his control was so thin, he didn’t want to risk her safety with anyone else’s. Even Stills. “The deck is no place for a lady.”

  She drew herself up. Her breath teased his collar, which he’d opened to take advantage of the cool sea air. “Don’t tell me where my place is! I am a lady. If I am on deck, then that is precisely my place to be.”

  He clenched his fists at his sides. “It is your safety I am thinking about.”

  “Oh?” She cocked an eyebrow. “And what ill do you think will befall me if I should get some fresh air?”

  “Men are animals, Charlie. Don’t test me on this.” He knew precisely the thoughts going through the head of every man on this ship. He was afflicted by such thoughts, too, and he didn’t even like her. It was the lure of her beauty, and nothing deeper. But even that could push a man who had been deprived for too long.

  She laughed, as if the idea were ludicrous. Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

  “Do you have no faith in your gender? Every man on board has been a perfect gentleman.”

  “Until they catch you alone,” he insisted. “Then you’ll find the matter much changed.”

  “Is that so?” A smile teased at her lips. Such plump lips. They looked soft. “You’ve been alone with me for over five minutes. You haven’t fallen on me like some kind of beast. Or are you going to tell me that you’re a different caliber of man?”

  He wasn’t. He knew better than to lie. Instead, he cupped her jaw. Her hair, a bit tangled from the wind, was soft against his fingers. Her skin was even softer.

  He was only doing this to prove his point, to scare her into compliance, or so he told himself. The moment his fingers met her skin, he lost his senses.

  He pulled her up against him and kissed her until she lost hers, too. Her body fit against him intimately, a soft contrast to his hard physique. She gasped as her breasts were crushed against his chest. He took advantage of her parted lips and invaded with his tongue.

  Push me away.

  She didn’t. Although hesitant at first, she soon tangled her fingers in his hair and met his every stroke. She tasted divine. He forgot himself, his hands wandering as he learned the shape of her, fitting her against him. Against his stiffening arousal.

  Lawks! What was he doing? He released her with alacrity. She blinked up at him with owlish eyes, raising her hand to brush her swollen mouth. He swallowed hard and stepped back. “Go to your cabin and stay there.”

  He must have made his point, after all, because she shut herself away without argument. It should have be
en a victory, but it felt more like a mistake.

  6

  Dear Lord, the woman snores like thunder. The thin wall between Gray and Miss Vale proved little barrier to the sound. Bad enough their kiss continued to haunt him into the night, but now he had to contend with a constant reminder of her proximity. Her snores were louder than the waves lashing against the hull of the ship.

  Charlie Vale was nothing like the woman he should be attracted to. If nothing else, her snores only served to prove that more. He tried to think of a more unladylike trait. Perhaps her stubbornness, or the impolite manner with which she demanded he serve her every whim.

  Thanks to her, he was on an unfamiliar ship with a crew he didn’t know, bound for a country that would have him hanged if he were apprehended there. Aside from what they scrounged from the quarters of the French officers and crew, he and his men had no disguise if they were intercepted. If a French vessel spotted him wearing his blue navy coat with the gold piping and buttons, their mission would be compromised no matter what vessel they sailed.

  He was accustomed to sailing into dangerous situations, but he didn’t usually have a lady aboard, let alone one so closely related to his family. His mother already thought him in hopeless peril. If any harm should befall the Vales under his watch, her opinion of his career would only plummet further.

  Would Mother consider his kissing Miss Vale to be a form of harm? He did. He had a duty to set an example for his men, and kissing a woman under his protection was a violation of her trust. Never mind that Charlie had kissed him back with equal passion, her fingers in his hair, her tongue dancing with his. He hadn’t conducted himself as befitting a gentleman, but she didn’t act like a well-mannered lady.

  She was brazen, outspoken, and demanding. Worse, when he’d kissed her, he’d stripped himself of all the qualities he’d like to think he possessed. Kissing her hadn’t been proper. It hadn’t been wise or honorable.

  He had been no better than the animal he’d been trying to convince her he was. How she drove him to such lengths beyond the manners to which he’d been bred, he didn’t know. Well-mannered young ladies didn’t tempt him to kiss them in the hold of a borrowed ship.

  Charlie did.

  He took a deep breath as he tried to purge the memory of her from his mind. It was the only way he could hope for any rest tonight. The howl of her snore next door made forgetting her impossible. Gray grimaced.

  Come the morning, he would put as much distance between them as possible. He prayed that the wind would turn to his favor, so he might be rid of her all the sooner. No matter what, he couldn’t lose his composure around her again.

  Charlie hadn’t kissed many men in her life. The ones in the ballrooms and clubs of London were boring, vapid young fops who cared more for the way she looked than they cared for her opinion. They intended to live out their lives in the shadow of their parents, never taking a risk or stepping a toe out of line. Even hazarding a kiss with a man like that threatened to put her to sleep. There was nothing thrilling about it, nothing adventurous.

  For all that he seemed as tightly buttoned as the men in London, Anthony Graylocke was different. He was an animal, or at least he kissed like one. He’d left her mouth burning and her body tingling from being pressed up against him.

  And coward that she was, she’d hidden in her cabin. It wasn’t that she was afraid he would take advantage of something she didn’t care to give. No, Charlie feared that the moment he pressed his lips to hers, she would want to give him everything. Herself, her future, her chance for adventure. However chafing it was to remain in her cabin at all hours, she didn’t trust herself not to provoke another kiss from Anthony if she saw him again.

  Besides, she had a gift for Papa to work on. Even if the roll of the waves disrupted her stitches, making her redo more than she made, she had a coat for Papa that needed embroidering. Had she known she would soon see him, she would have started on it months ago.

  However, by the time they reached France the following afternoon, Charlie had used up every last excuse to remain apart from Anthony. Especially considering that the stubborn man was for some unfathomable reason insisting upon rowing them ashore himself.

  Charlie beseeched Mama with her gaze. He has others to row us. Send one of them. Unfortunately, if Mama noticed Charlie’s unspoken plea, she didn’t answer it. Charlie squared her shoulders. She would have to confront Anthony herself.

  “Captain Graylocke.” Charlie hardened her voice as she approached him. Seeing as he had made such a fuss about her mistake in addressing Lieutenant Stills, she didn’t want to give him another opportunity to disparage her. She felt off balance in his presence as it was.

  Anthony, standing in close proximity to Lieutenant Stills as they carried on a private conversation, fell silent and took a step back. His hazel eyes glinted like flecks of amber. He turned to Charlie.

  “Miss Vale.” His tone was clipped.

  She met his gaze boldly, refusing to be daunted by his curt demeanor. “I hear you mean to accompany us to shore.”

  “I do.”

  Lieutenant Stills looked for a moment as though he meant to contribute. Anthony’s glare silenced him, and she wondered what they had been speaking about.

  Charlie clasped her hands in front of her middle and resolved not to ask. “Thank you for your generous offer, but that won’t be necessary.”

  Anthony raised an eyebrow. “No? Do you intend to swim ashore?”

  She almost swayed toward him, intending to meet his hostility toe to toe, but the heat of his body seared her like a brand. She took a hasty step back, clenching her hands. This was precisely how their moment outside her cabin had gone awry. She bit her lip and took a deep breath.

  His gaze dipped, lingering on her bodice and mouth before returning to her eyes once more. She gritted her teeth. He was just like every other man, ignoring her desires and opinions in favor of her beauty. But something about the way he caressed her mouth with his eyes made her battle the urge to lick her lips.

  The last time he’d looked at her that way, he had pulled her flush against him and proven just how savage he was beneath his polite veneer. This time, they had witnesses. He wouldn’t kiss her with her mother and half the crew idling nearby, would he?

  “You need someone to see you safely ashore.”

  “You don’t need to be that person.”

  Lieutenant Stills cut in. “My thoughts precisely, Miss Vale. Sir, please allow me to row them to shore. You don’t need to bother yourself with the matter.”

  Anthony’s expression closed off. He showed no more emotion than a door. “Lieutenant Stills, I have given you a direct order on the matter. You may be in line to take command of this vessel, but I am in charge as of yet, and you will obey my command without question.”

  Charlie gaped at his sharp tone. Would Lieutenant Stills stand there and take the very public reprimand without question? The man’s casual air dissipated. A twitch started in his jaw, but he bowed to Anthony. “As you desire, sir.”

  She didn’t care if Anthony was the captain aboard the vessel, she wouldn’t have stood to be spoken to in that manner. Charlie could barely stomach the sometimes veiled, cutting remarks of the haute ton. She supposed that she wasn’t well suited to high-society life, nor to life at sea. Luckily, she hadn’t been born a man, so the latter wasn’t truly an option.

  Still in a foul mood, Anthony divided his attention between Lieutenant Stills and her. “I accepted the duty of escorting Mrs. and Miss Vale to their destination. I will be the man to carry it out. Do you have anything further to say on the matter?”

  “You’re just as stubborn as your sister,” Charlie snapped.

  Anthony’s face grew slack with shock at her pronouncement. She left him speechless as she approached the dinghy that would be lowered into the water and rowed to shore. If Anthony wanted to accompany them until the moment their feet touched the sand, it appeared there was little she could do to stop him. But she refused t
o let him have the last word.

  Besides, he was just as stubborn as Lucy, in any case. She touched her hand to her mouth, wondering how she could possibly escape the memory of his kiss when he would be so close.

  7

  Gray’s ill-fitting, borrowed French coat lay across his lap. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows as he rowed the two women ashore. Back and forth, back and forth. The swing of the oars and the ability to pummel the water with them in order to speed themselves along was a welcome respite from Miss Vale’s glare.

  Did she have a sweet, well-mannered bone in her body? She’d told him he, of all people, had Lucy’s stubborn streak. He had three brothers, the eldest of whom was the most stubborn, self-important man he knew. Morgan always thought he knew what was best; in some ways, he was worse than Mother in inquiring after Gray’s continued safety. But no, of all his siblings, Charlie chose to compare him to head-in-the-clouds, nose-in-a-book Lucy.

  And she hadn’t let up the comparison since they’d been lowered to sea, either.

  “I don’t know what Lucy sees in you to make you her favorite brother.”

  Apparently, she had lowered herself to bald insults now. He gritted his teeth and continued rowing, his muscles bulging. “What makes you think I’m her favorite brother?”

  “She named her parrot after you.”

  “Lucy has a parrot?” Perhaps he ought to start paying more attention to the letters his sister sent. He’d read the one about her recent marriage. He’d never been fond of Brackley, but he’d settle it when he next returned home that the man knew to keep faithful to his wife.

  Miss Vale batted a curl away from her cheek as she nodded. “A blue parrot named Antonia.”

  “Lucy named her female parrot after me?”

  He didn’t see how Miss Vale could possibly say he and Lucy were at all alike. She was his younger sister, and he was in turns annoyed with and fond of her. That was what younger siblings aimed to do.

  Charlie looked smug as she answered, “She did. The bird says the foulest things, too.”