A Buccaneer at Heart

by Stephanie Laurens

  She didn’t fall. She didn’t even slip.

  On reaching the gap in the ship’s side, she took the hand of a gentleman, almost as debonair as Robert himself, and allowed him to help her up over the lip of the deck.

  Finally on her feet, she shook out her skirts and felt the weight of her reticule bump against her thigh.

  Robert appeared beside her. As his men rattled the panel back into place, he took her hand and bowed with formal grace. “Welcome aboard The Trident, Miss Hopkins.”

  “Thank you, Captain Frobisher.” She left her hand in his and looked up—and up. And yet farther up... Her lips formed a soundless O. “This is the ship I saw sailing in...it must be a week ago.” She lowered her gaze to his. “I thought it the most graceful vessel I’d ever seen. She’s one of the new clipper ships out of Aberdeen, isn’t she?”

  He smiled. “Indeed.”

  Robert beckoned his senior crew forward and introduced them to Aileen. He felt weary, yet happy. Oddly content. He’d thrown away his best chance to quickly and effectively bring his mission to a close, yet he couldn’t have proceeded in any other way.

  Now he and his men were back, safe on The Trident’s deck, and Aileen was, too.

  And if he’d needed any sign that this was where she belonged, the look on her face as she’d taken in The Trident’s sails...that look had held all the fascination and passion with which he might hope his wife would view his ship.

  CHAPTER 13

  Once the men’s various wounds had been tended—something Aileen insisted on assisting with, helping to bind cuts, clean scrapes, and salve bruises—Robert gathered his officers—as well as Benson, Harris, Coleman, Fuller, and Aileen—in his cabin.

  He steered Aileen to the chair anchored before his desk. He ruthlessly suppressed the tumult of impulses that insisted he wrap her up in cotton batting; despite her ordeal, despite the shock, urgency, and frantic action of her rescue and their escape from the slavers—despite having shot a man—she appeared composed, determined, and, as always to his senses, vibrantly alive.

  Alive and apparently intent on remaining so, which soothed his abraded instincts a tad.

  But dealing with what lay between them—the surging emotions that seemed startlingly complementary—would have to wait.

  Along with everyone else, she was focused on his mission. His officers were waiting to hear what had happened, and he needed to work out what should be done next.

  What could be done next.

  Sinking into the chair behind his desk, he hid a grimace. He’d thrown his carefully ordered plan overboard; now he needed to determine what could be salvaged.

  “First things first.” He focused on his bosun, Wilcox, who was lounging against the wall closest to the door. “As Miss Hopkins reminded us, we’ve been anchored here, in the same position and running the same name, for a week. Let’s change the name and take her a little farther down the estuary. Don’t bother to put into any cove—just anchor in the main channel.” He glanced at his second-in-command, Jordan Latimer, who had taken the second chair before the desk. “The better to make a quick run to deeper waters should Decker return before we leave.”

  Jordan dipped his head. “It never hurts to be prepared.”

  Robert looked at Wilcox. “Convey the orders, then return here.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” Wilcox opened the door and slipped out.

  Robert looked at the other officers—Hurley, his master and navigator, Miller, and Foxby, the steward—all propped in various poses against cabinets or the walls, then at Benson, Harris, Coleman, and Fuller, standing at their ease beyond the chairs and facing the desk. “For the benefit of those who weren’t with us in the settlement, let’s review what we’d learned prior to the most recent action.”

  Concisely, he outlined what he and his men had gleaned from Sampson and had subsequently learned about Lashoria and Undoto, and how that had led them to watch Undoto’s house—and how in turn that had led them to connect with Aileen.

  At his invitation, she detailed what had brought her to the settlement and what she’d done in the preceding days that had ultimately led to her being in a carriage, watching Undoto’s house at the same time.

  “While I was with Miss Hopkins”—Robert reclaimed the reins—“attempting to learn her purpose in being there, four slavers arrived.” He described how Undoto had welcomed the men, and also the atmosphere when they’d departed, and the insistence by the leader, possibly the man known as Kale, that some unspecified “he” needed more men, but they had to be the right men, and Undoto was supposed to find said victims. “Subsequently, while I saw Miss Hopkins to her lodgings, the others”—he nodded at Benson, Coleman, Fuller, and Harris—“followed the slavers into the slum on the other side of the ridge above Undoto’s church.” He went on to describe the slavers’ lair and the hide they’d set up to keep watch. He also sketched in broad-brush fashion what he and Aileen had learned about the missing children.

  His plan to follow the slavers into the jungle to determine the location of their camp had been known to all his men. “That brings us to this morning.”

  “So what happened?” Foxby asked. “Did they kidnap someone?”

  “As we’re not heading straight back to London,” Jordan said, “I assume something in your so-simple plan went awry?”

  Robert met Jordan’s cynical gaze; his best friend had often warned him that he didn’t make sufficient allowance for the unexpected. In this case, Jordan had been more correct than Robert had any intention of letting him know; if he did, he would never hear the end of it. He transferred his gaze to Aileen. “After breakfast this morning, I went to the hide to keep watch. But what’s probably more to the point is what you did. I can’t see any reason why the slavers would suddenly have been ordered to kidnap you, yet they were. That suggests that you triggered an alarm. Nothing we did yesterday would account for it, so”—he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk as he fixed his gaze more intently on her face—“what did you do this morning?”

  Aileen studied his blue eyes, studied his expression. Although she saw an intensity of focus, she detected no animosity, no shred of blame. She drew in a breath that was tighter than she would have liked. “First, let me say that while I didn’t expect to be kidnapped, I am exceedingly glad that you”—she glanced at the four men lined up on her right, then looked back at Robert—“saw fit to rescue me. I hadn’t expected that—I know how important it was to you and your mission that you took the first chance that offered to follow the slavers back to their jungle camp. So...” She hauled in another breath and inclined her head to him. “Thank you. Now.” She straightened. “As to what I did this morning.” She frowned. “I visited the Office of the Naval Attaché.”

  Mr. Hurley, the navigator, said, “I thought you’d visited there before. Before we reached here.”

  She nodded. “I had. But the first time, I spoke only with the three clerks. They were officious and unhelpful. But this morning, the naval attaché was in his office—he hadn’t been there the first time I called.” She paused, remembering. “I didn’t actually say anything to the clerks themselves, beyond asking one of them to tell the attaché I wished to speak with him...and that I expected to be back in London shortly and would be calling at the Admiralty.”

  She raised her gaze to Robert’s face. “I thought that would at least get me in to see him—and it did.”

  His expression grew grimmer. “It might also be what got you kidnapped. What else did you say?”

  “Muldoon—the attaché—asked me into his office. The clerks heard nothing more of what I said—only him. I asked...” Again, she paused to make sure she had it right. “I’d rehearsed what I would ask to ensure that I said nothing that would direct attention toward you or your mission. I made it plain that while I failed to understand why no one there knew anyt
hing about Will, that wasn’t the purpose of my visit.” As the conversation came back to her, she locked her gaze on Robert’s face. “I said I’d heard of children going missing, and that I wished to know what the authorities were doing about it. He said the governor’s office dealt with such things, but that he would ask.” As her memories rolled on, a chill slithered down her spine. “He then asked me if I’d heard anything else in relation to the missing children...and I told him I’d heard rumors that slave traders might be involved.” The chill intensified. “He asked me where I was staying so he could send word...”

  She stared at Robert, her eyes widening as full realization dawned. “Good Lord! It’s not just someone in the Office of the Naval Attaché but the attaché himself who’s involved.”

  His expression unrelentingly grim, Robert nodded. “It has to be Muldoon. Either directly or indirectly, he had to have sent the message to the slavers at the lair. The messenger arrived about half an hour before noon.” He paused, then asked, “What time did you reach Undoto’s church?”

  Puzzled, she frowned at him, wondering how he’d known.

  He read her question in her face. “When I went back to the inn later, I found Dave waiting to tell me he’d left you at Undoto’s church, but that when he returned to fetch you, you’d disappeared. By then, I’d seen you carried into the slavers’ lair.”

  “Oh. Poor Dave.” She grimaced. “He left me at the church at about twenty minutes before midday.”

  “By then, the messenger had already arrived at the lair, so said messenger had to have been sent by Muldoon or by someone he contacted immediately after you’d left him. Undoto hadn’t seen you yet, and there wasn’t time for any innocent official query passed on by Muldoon to have inadvertently alerted someone in the governor’s office—not unless Muldoon sent an urgent query, and why would he have done that?” When she reluctantly nodded, Robert asked, “So what happened next?”

  She described sitting through the boring service, then waiting outside and evaluating Undoto’s and Lady Holbrook’s likely contributions to the slavers’ scheme—and then being seized, hooded, gagged, and carried off. “I’m sure they held me in one of the back rooms of the church—the vestry, so to speak. That was the only building it could have been—all the others were too far away.”

  “We know Undoto is involved with the slavers, so it’s unsurprising that the slavers use the church from time to time.” Robert’s gaze traveled over her face. “And then?”

  She related how they’d waited with her in the vestry for several hours, more or less in silence, then had carried her out and into the slum to what had been the slavers’ lair.

  Latimer leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs, and with a solicitous expression said, “I realize it must have been quite distressing for you, Miss Hopkins, but did you hear anything the slavers said while you were in their lair?”

  Aileen thought she heard a soft snort from Robert. She struggled not to glare at Latimer. “Of course. I listened to everything I could. Sadly, only five of the men in the lair were English, and they had various accents, and the hood and wrapping didn’t help. The others used various pidgin dialects. Several, I’m sure, were foreign—French, German, perhaps Dutch. Of the ten men in the house, there seemed to be three leaders of sorts, but the one name I heard mentioned in relation to the missing people was Dubois. Several of the men spoke of him, and I gather I was destined to be taken to him.”

  Robert caught her eye. “Is Dubois their customer, or might he be the ultimate leader of the slavers?”

  “I can’t be sure, but I would wager on the former. That was the implication. And there was one other name mentioned,” Aileen went on. “Several of the slavers had, I gathered, arrived in the lair that evening, and at least three were there to fetch some sort of supplies from someone named Winter.”

  “Supplies?” Robert’s eyes narrowed in speculation. “It seems odd they’d need to fetch ordinary supplies from a specific person.”

  “Indeed. I gathered that these supplies were special. The way the men used the word ‘supplies,’ they could have been referring to equipment or parts of sorts.” She met Robert’s gaze. “Something that is supplies, but not food or clothing or anything like that.”

  “Mining supplies.” Robert nodded. “That would fit. So we now have two names—Dubois and Winter. I haven’t heard of either before, and nor, to my knowledge, has London.”

  “Dubois in relation to the people,” Latimer said. “And Winter in terms of necessary supplies for a mining operation.”

  Robert looked at Aileen. “Did you hear anything else of use?”

  “Possibly not of use, but of note. One man’s voice was exceptional.” She met Robert’s gaze. “You’ve heard Undoto. This man’s voice was significantly more compelling—a mesmerist’s voice.” She looked at Latimer. “The other men were indistinguishable from hordes of others, but that one voice was distinct.”

  Robert sat back in his chair; the movement drew everyone’s attention to him. “It seems that despite the apparent reverse, we’ve actually learned quite a lot. To continue our tale, after we’d seen Miss Hopkins carried into the slavers’ lair, we reworked our plan.” He saw consternation pass over Aileen’s features and rolled on before she could apologize again. Briefly, he outlined their preparations and then, in minimal detail, described the rescue up to the point of them losing the slavers amid the commercial hulls in the harbor.

  “So the slavers now know we’re watching them?” Hurley asked.

  Before he could reply, Aileen stated, “Again, I can’t express how very sorry I am to have disrupted your plans.”

  Robert caught her gaze and shook his head. “You shouldn’t be. Via you being kidnapped and us rescuing you, we now have three pieces of vital information London didn’t ask for, but which they’ll be exceedingly happy to have—namely, that Muldoon is one of those involved in the scheme, that Dubois is the man the missing people are destined for, and that someone named Winter is supplying the operation with essential supplies, most likely specialist mining supplies. There really was no viable way to approach the investigation from that angle, but you being kidnapped has allowed us to make significant inroads on that front.”

  The stubborn woman didn’t look convinced.

  Robert swiveled to look at Hurley. “And to answer your question, I don’t believe so. We took care to do nothing to alert the slavers to our true interest in them. All they saw will lead them to believe that in taking Miss Hopkins, they somehow brought us down on their heads. We found them carrying her out of the slum, seized her back, and ran. We didn’t try to pursue them, and as far as they know, we’ve escaped onto some ship and will vanish on the next tide.”

  He looked back at Aileen. “We still have our hide—the slavers know nothing of that. We can continue to watch them. And you were the only one taken today—there was no other opportunity that we missed while rescuing you.”

  He glanced around at the others. “As far as I can see, we’ve secured three potentially crucial pieces of information without having lost anything we might otherwise have gained. We can continue with our plan as was, maintain our watch on the hide, and when the slavers seize their next victim or victims, we can—”

  “Actually”—Jordan grimaced—“you might not have that much time.”

  Robert arched a brow Jordan’s way.

  “Decker.” Jordan sat straighter. “According to the scuttlebutt, he’s due back any day—certainly by the end of the week.”

  “I’ve heard the same,” Aileen said.

  Regarding Robert, Jordan arched his brows. “Then again, you do have that letter from the First Lord giving you authority to call on Decker’s assistance...?”

  “No.” Lips setting, Robert shook his head. “Decker and I do not get on, but more than that, although it appears that Muldoon is able to act of his own
volition in this business, we cannot as yet rule out Decker himself being involved. And I don’t know who will be sent down next to follow up on this mission. If it’s Royd...heaven help us all—and Decker, too. But we don’t need to give Decker advance warning of such a possibility.”

  Jordan pulled a face. “True.” After a moment, he asked, “So then what?”

  Robert straightened in his chair. “We do what we can do in the time we have. Tomorrow, we’ll resume our watch from the hide. Meanwhile, Mr. Hurley, take The Trident as far east from Kroo Bay as is reasonable. We’ll take the tender into the easternmost cove of the settlement and walk in. If Decker appears, we’ll operate for as long as we feel we can. He’ll most likely be swamped with business for the first few days—he won’t immediately have time to look at what other ships are nearby. We’ll have to choose our moment before he does and slip past the squadron in the dead of night.”

  There were nods all around. Aileen studied the faces and saw nothing that looked remotely like downheartedness. This group was accustomed to dealing with reverses, remaining on course, and steadily charting their way forward.

  As if to underscore that, Robert said, “So our mission remains—we have to learn the location of the slavers’ jungle camp.” He glanced around. “I really don’t want to have to return to London without that information. Aside from all else, that will mean a five-week minimum delay while London sends down some other operative to learn that fact—and that’s another five weeks those missing might not have.”

  The slightly ominous ring to those words pushed Aileen into speech. “What about the children? If they are being taken by the same band of slavers to the same camp, then if the slavers arrive to take another group of children... That lad said he would come and warn us. If that happens and we follow the children...”

  Robert regarded her steadily, then inclined his head. “You’re right. That is still a possibility.”