To Tame the Wind (Agents of the Crown Book 0)

by Walker, Regan

  Looking into Simon’s face as he ate his dinner, his golden hair more streaked by the sun than when she’d first met him, she knew she could ask no more of life than to remain by his side for as long as she could. The only adventures she wanted were with him.

  She had learned one thing: People were just people. Everywhere there were good ones and bad ones, no matter they were poor or rich, common or noble. Whether they be French, American or English. While she hoped to meet no more bad ones, she knew life was not always a smooth road. More often it was bumpy like the road they’d taken from London.

  “I’m sorry for what happened to you,” he said, setting down his two-pronged fork. “I should not have left you and the lad alone.”

  She looked into his worried gaze. “It was… awful until you came. You were like a storm sweeping away the terror. But when the other man hit Nate, I was so worried the boy was hurt badly.”

  “I would have killed that stinking oaf had not the innkeeper intervened.”

  “It was good he did. I’d not want to see you hauled off to face a magistrate, or worse.”

  “The lad likes you, you know,” he said, changing the subject, “more than a little.”

  “And I like him. He’s like the younger brother I never had.”

  “He’d be most disappointed to hear you call him a brother,” he murmured to his food. His eyes shifted to her still full plate. “Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, stabbing another slice of his beef steak with his fork. He ate as if he hadn’t eaten in days.

  Claire glanced at the mushy vegetables and potatoes lying on her plate alongside the too large portion of meat. “Not very.”

  “You’ll need your strength for tomorrow,” he urged. She could see he was worried. He wanted a sign she had recovered from the distress she had experienced at the hand of the pawing clod in the common room.

  “Very well.” She would not allow him to worry needlessly. She speared a small potato on her fork. It was highly seasoned with pepper but tasty. It reminded her of McGinnes’ stews.

  After a few more bites of potatoes, washed down with wine and accompanied by a small chunk of the yellow cheese, she felt full and was glad to see her efforts brought a smile to his face.

  He reached out and squeezed her hand. “It will be all right, you’ll see. After a good sleep, you and Nate will feel much better.” His hand lingered over hers, sending warmth flowing through her. She would have been content for him to leave it there. Alas, he did not.

  “Nate was very brave, you know,” she said as he lifted his hand from hers. “He tried to protect me.”

  “The lad has a strong heart. And perhaps he is overly fond of you.”

  She smiled at him and the potatoes.

  Once the captain had finished his pudding, he rose from the table. “We’d best check on Nate and then get some rest. Another long day awaits us tomorrow.”

  Nate seemed to be recovering well, stuffing his face with his dinner, when Simon looked in on him, Claire following on his heels. The innkeeper told them the room was Nate’s for the night, which pleased Claire.

  “How do you feel?” she asked him.

  “’Cept fer my head, I feel good,” Nate said with a mouth full of his supper.

  Simon looked around the small room. It was warm and clean. “You’re all right here, lad?”

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  Taking Claire’s hand, Simon bid the boy goodnight and led her upstairs to the room they would share. He shut the door behind them as they entered. Doffing his coat and hat, he turned his back to her and removed his waistcoat and boots. “I’ll not watch as you disrobe, though I’m tempted,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Don’t you dare turn around, Simon Powell, till I tell you I’m ready.”

  He waited for some minutes, then smiled as he heard her climb into the bed. Not waiting for her assent, he turned to see the fetching innocent curled up on her side, staring at him.

  “Somehow I knew you would do as you would,” she said.

  “I’ll take the floor,” he offered. He was certain with Claire so close, he would not sleep anyway.

  “That is the least you can do considering how sinful it is for us to share a room. Here”—she handed him a pillow—“take this and the extra blanket.”

  “If you wish,” he said accepting both the items and her criticism. Likely a convent-raised girl would consider the temptation presented to be the work of the devil. What did it matter if the hell he’d experience this night from being so close to her but unable to touch her was as hard as oak planks?

  He blew out the candle and stretched out on the blanket he’d laid on the floor next to the bed, punching the pillow into an acceptable shape. Eventually, exhausted and with a full stomach, he drifted off to sleep.

  When the small feminine cries of panic awoke him, he was not even surprised. But it was not the ghost of the French girl, Élise, who stalked Claire’s dreams this night. From her muffled cries, he could tell it was the brigand who’d attacked her at the inn.

  He rose and sat on the edge of her bed, soothing her as he brushed the sweat-dampened strands of her hair from her forehead. “’Tis all right, Claire. You’re safe now. He’ll never hurt you again.”

  After a while, she quieted and snuggled against his thigh resting on the bed. He was sleepy and began to sway in the dark room. Giving in to the temptation of the soft bed, he lay down beside her on top of the cover, breathing in the same lavender scent he had smelled earlier when she was in his arms. He knew, in that moment, temptation would forever smell like lavender.

  Though she did not wake, she snuggled closer and, draping her arm across his chest, sighed. He reined in his desire for more, and placed his hand on her head, holding it to his chest, plagued with visions of making love to her.

  And that is how he passed the night, she sleeping contentedly, tucked into his warmth, and he wide awake, hoping Amos was on his way back to Rye from Lorient with good news.

  Chapter 17

  Rye Harbor

  The carriage arrived in Rye late the next afternoon. The three of them had ridden inside with Nate’s head in Claire’s lap for most of the day. Simon suspected the boy was taking full advantage of Claire’s tender heart, but no matter. Though he would have preferred to be alone with her, the lad likely deserved her coddling after what he’d been through.

  Simon stepped down from the carriage, thanked the coachman and handed him the agreed upon sum for their transport, and a bit more. He studied the sky, pleased that the heavy clouds were holding off their rain.

  In the harbor, the Fairwinds sat at anchor bringing a smile to his face. His schooner was more home to him than any other place.

  Once they were on board, he saw Claire to his cabin where he shed his hat and coat, ordered Nate to get them some food, and then sought out Jordan and Elijah. He was anxious to hear the news from France.

  “Giles an’ me jus’ arrived when the Fairwinds sailed into the harbor, Cap’n,” said Elijah, puffing on his pipe.

  “I’d like to speak with Giles, as well,” said Simon. Waving his hand in the air, he beckoned the sailmaker to where he stood with Elijah and Jordan on the quarterdeck.

  When Giles reached them, Simon acknowledged him with a nod and turned to Jordan. “How went your departure from London?”

  “We were not alone, if that’s what you’re asking. I wasn’t sure at first it was Donet who followed us. He sailed another English sloop flying the flag of a British merchantman. But the sloop followed us closely and, at one point on the Thames, I got a glimpse of his black hair on the deck of the ship.”

  “But he did not overtake you?”

  “He tried,” said the first mate, “and nearly succeeded.”

  “Mr. Landor pulled some fancy sailin’,” said Elijah.

  “The truth is,” Jordan clarified, “a lumbering collier helped us out. Sailed right across Donet’s path so he could not tack, else the Frenchman would have had us.”

  “Well,
however you did it, you brought the Fairwinds back,” said Simon, “and I am grateful.”

  “My pleasure,” said his first mate.

  “How was your ride south, Cap’n?” asked Elijah.

  “’Twas not without excitement.” At their inquiring looks, he explained, “We had a bit of trouble in Tonbridge. Nate got a bump on the head for his efforts to protect the mademoiselle from a rough character taken with her beauty, but the lad’s fine now. And so is she.” Simon had no intention of revealing the horror he’d experienced at seeing the man’s hands on Claire or the murderous intent it gave rise to. Reminding himself of the question burning in his mind, he asked, “Is Amos back yet?” He hadn’t seen the Abundance’s burly first mate since he’d come aboard.

  Jordan’s brow furrowed. “No, but I’ve been expecting him.”

  Simon stared off the starboard toward France. “I hope I haven’t sent him on some wild goose chase.”

  Returning his gaze to Elijah and Giles, he said, “I assume you have the arrangements for the exchange?”

  “Ye won’t like ’em, Cap’n,” said the old salt. “’Tis Calais, four days hence. We lost some time returnin’ from Paris with a broken axle on the coach and bad weather in the crossin’.”

  Calais. Four days more with Claire. It was not enough. He wanted more. Hell, he wanted a lifetime. “Four days doesn’t leave us much time. Do you think the Abundance’s crew is there already?”

  “Can’t say,” said Elijah, “but could be. ’Else he’s bringin’ ’em by ship just in time for the exchange.”

  Simon studied the faces of the two men he’d sent to Paris, wondering if they were holding back bad news. “Did Donet’s man say anything about the condition of the crew? Did all survive their wounds?”

  “I asked Donet’s quartermaster, Cap’n,” said Giles. “He’s a gruff character by the name of Bequel. Seemed honest enough on that point, though. Said they have some physician in Lorient who works miracles. All have recovered or are on the mend.”

  Inwardly, Simon breathed a sigh of relief. Wingate and his men were well.

  “And what of the ship? Has Donet agreed to return it?”

  Giles and Elijah exchanged a look before the sailmaker gave voice to Simon’s fear. “He won’t return the ship, sir. Bequel said it was already committed to a purpose and when I asked, he declined most rudely to disclose what it was.”

  Damn. The Abundance had cost him thousands of pounds. He would not give her up so easily. “One way or another, once I have the crew, I’ll go after my ship.”

  “The crew will be happy to join you,” said Jordan, surprising Simon with the enthusiasm in his voice for what they both knew would be a dangerous task.

  Elijah shoved some folded papers into Simon’s hand. “From the Scribe, sir.”

  Simon tucked the papers into his waistband. “We’ll wait two days for Amos to return. Then we weigh anchor for Calais.”

  When she was alone, Claire surveyed the captain’s cabin. It was just as it had been when she’d left. It smelled of the man who made it his home. Though she was well aware she was still a captive, she was oddly happy to be back on the Fairwinds. Not just because the constant swaying and bouncing of the carriage was at an end. She’d missed the crew. This time, when she’d climbed aboard the Fairwinds, some of them had waved her a greeting. Even the first mate, Mr. Landor, who must have forgiven her the escape attempt in London, looked pleased to see her. Perhaps he’d explained to the crew she was not a spy after all. The ship had begun to feel like home. More, it was his ship and she felt close to him when she was in his cabin, among his things.

  Her fingers idly brushed over his chronometer sitting on his desk and she remembered with shame the time she’d tossed it onto a pile of debris on the deck. She valued such things now not just because she realized their worth, but because they were important to him.

  How long would she remain on his ship? As the carriage had neared Rye, she had experienced anxious thoughts, knowing the inevitable exchange loomed on the horizon. Soon she would be returned to her papa. Soon Simon would have his kidnapped crew. And though she felt happiness at both events, they also portended ill, for soon she would see him no more.

  Somewhere on the journey from London to Rye, she had decided not to return to Saint-Denis, except to say goodbye. Her time with the English captain had convinced her that whatever God intended for her life, it was not the life of a nun. If one day she taught children, they would be her own.

  The cabin door opened and a beaming Nate stepped inside carrying a tray. “Hello, mistress. I’ve brought ye and the cap’n some food.”

  Before he had closed the cabin door with his foot, she had noticed there was no guard posted even though they were in port. She supposed one was hardly necessary now. She had no desire to escape him and he must know it, too.

  “Here, let me help,” she said, taking the tray and setting it on the pedestal table. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine, mistress.”

  “Stay and keep me company.”

  “I suppose the cap’n won’t mind if I stay a bit,” he said, slipping into one of the chairs. “He’s on deck talkin’ to some of the men.”

  “Do you want some food?”

  “I had a bowl of stew in the galley with McGinnes.”

  She removed the cover of one bowl and inhaled the rising steam. “It smells wonderful. Perhaps I’ll have some before the captain returns.” She was hungry and the stew was good, a hearty fare, tasting of the spices she had suggested to the Irish cook that went well with lamb. “McGinnes grows more expert at his craft.”

  “Aye. One of the crew told me they’ve been eatin’ better.”

  “Did McGinnes say anything about trouble as they sailed from London?” She had to know if her papa had gone after the Fairwinds.

  “Aye. McGinnes said a sloop followed them out of the Pool of London but with all the ships on the river, Mr. Landor was able to slip away. Once in the Channel, he set a fast course fer Rye.”

  The cabin boy rose with an apologetic look. “I’d best let the cap’n know the food’s here. He’ll be hungry.”

  When Nate left, Claire rested her chin in her upturned hand, her elbow on the table. So her papa had pursued Simon’s ship. Was he hoping to rescue her so he didn’t have to return the captain’s men? She would never have allowed him to do that without arguing for their freedom. Would he have listened? The papa she had thought she knew would have listened, but the man he seemed now was so very different. She was not at all certain she really knew him.

  Tired from their carriage ride and exhausted from the night before and her concern for what her papa had done, Claire looked longingly toward the bed. Perhaps she might have a small nap.

  Simon opened his cabin door. All was quiet within. His stomach rumbled when he smelled the lamb stew. Directly in front of him, the table was set with his meal, but beyond that, curled up on top of the blue cover on his bed, was the raven-haired beauty. A few strides took him to her. She was lying on her side, facing the cabin door. His hand caressed her warm cheek, her alabaster skin glowing even in sleep. Strands of black hair curled around her face. He brushed them aside.

  Beautiful Claire.

  Wild at heart, courageous and caring. A real lady. Too good for the likes of him. But he wanted her all the same. The urge to make love to her was so strong he had to turn from her or he would fail in his resolve to return her untouched. He must focus on his missing men.

  Simon had never underestimated his enemies and he would not do so now. Donet would take vengeance on the Abundance’s crew if his daughter were not returned as she was when Simon had abducted her. Innocent.

  But if the truth be told, neither he nor Claire was the same. Both had changed. He loved the wild girl he could tame with his kiss. And he wanted her for his own. He knew she had a certain fondness for him, had softened to her captor, else she would not seek comfort in his arms when she was frightened. In time, she might even come to l
ove him. If he could find his men, he might convince her to stay. He’d hoped Amos had returned with news of the Abundance’s crew and was disappointed when he was not on the ship. Simon was nearly out of time.

  Sinking into a chair, he pulled from his waistband the papers Elijah had given him, glancing at them as he ate. More inane writings of Edward Edward that only Eden’s chemicals could decipher. He would send one of his trusted men with them to London while he sailed to Calais.

  The next two days were given over to readying the Fairwinds to sail. As the duties assigned were completed, Simon kept one eye on Rye, the hill town rising behind the harbor and one eye on the Channel. There was only one question in his mind. Where was Amos?

  Standing next to him on the quarterdeck, Jordan must have read his thoughts. “Elijah tells me there’s been no word of our men sent to Lorient.”

  It was time to face the inevitable. “We sail tomorrow with the tide whether Amos makes an appearance tonight or not, else we’ll be late to Calais.”

  “Aye, Cap’n. She’s ready.”

  Simon knew his first mate referred to the ship, but he had to wonder. Was Claire ready to return to her father? He had steeled himself for what must be done, but he was none too happy. He’d long known that life sometimes required sacrifices, but this was one he was loath to make. Letting Claire Donet return to France was going to kill him.

  Chapter 18

  Lorient, France

  Jean Donet set aside his copy of the Journal de Paris and picked up his café au lait to gaze out the large window overlooking the harbor in the room where he took his déjeuner when he was at home in Lorient. The article on the pending negotiations for peace that he’d found waiting for him upon his return had been most interesting. The people of France, increasingly unhappy with the king, were wondering what they might gain in the final treaty. Few knew just how much the American war had cost France, too much if the government’s money woes were known. The war must end and soon.