The True One (One and Only Series Book 2)

by Samanthya Wyatt

  He strode to the quarterdeck with purpose. Giles stood with his back to the wind, speaking to the first mate at the wheel. When he noticed Stephen advancing in his direction, Giles broke away and stepped forward.

  “Fine trail wind this morning.”

  “I’d like to finish a conversation, slipped my mind last night.” Only because Stephen watched, he saw Giles eyes grow guarded.

  “You have my attention.”

  “You’ve got some explaining to do. Regarding my sister.”

  “Very well. I’ll answer all your questions. How about we have our discussion over a bottle of brandy,” he said with a brash grin.

  Stephen could feel his mouth slavering. “Now you’re speaking my language.” He followed Giles below deck. When he stepped into Giles cabin, a whistle escaped his teeth.

  “I thought Jennifer inhabited the captain’s cabin. This one is more lavish.”

  “She does. This one is mine.” Giles stepped to a cabinet housing an array of glass. “I enjoy traveling in comfort.” He removed a bottle of amber liquid and held it toward the light coming through the porthole.

  “Or would you prefer port?”

  “Been a while since I’ve downed anything harder than water.”

  A massive desk with detailed carving sat to one side, with two leather upholstered chairs placed in front and one of the same quality next to the wall. Giles gestured to the chairs in front. Stephen sat down and inhaled the scent of fine leather. Placing two glasses on the shiny wooden surface, Giles poured a measure of brandy and took the seat beside him.

  On any given occasion, Stephen could drink a man under the table and keep his wits about him. He stared at the brown-gold liquid. His stomach had been empty for so long, he wondered if the blend would burn a hole right through it. He took a swallow and relished the embittered honey taste before he swallowed.

  “Some think a well-honed wine makes a bitter pill easier to swallow.” He stared at the contents of his glass while he spoke.

  “Some men simply enjoy a pleasing drink over an exchange of opinions.” Giles said with a hint of mirth.

  Stephen met his gaze. “You’ll have my opinion without reservation.”

  “I don’t doubt it. However, let me assure you I have the utmost respect for your family. Katherine is a lovely young woman. She is very worried about you.”

  “I know my impetuous sister.”

  A corner of Giles mouth lifted. “Ask your questions?”

  “I suggest you start at the beginning.” Stephen leveled a harsh glare. “And leave nothing out.”

  No emotion crossed the man’s face. Devilish calm, not a concern in the world. Probably honed his skills to cover his thinking. He drank from his glass, then made a grand gesture when he swallowed. Black eyes bore into his. “It appears your sister overheard your aunt and uncle discussing the longevity of your absence.”

  “Another bad habit which has gotten her into mischief.”

  Giles smile grew wider. “During their conversation, Thornton mentioned he’d asked a Captain Danvers to gather information and as coincidences happen, his ship had docked that day. Katherine, if I may, slipped out of the house early the next morning and went to the docks in search of the captain. Before she found him, two sailors found her.”

  Stephen’s hands fisted in anger. He emptied his glass and pointed to the bottle for Giles to pour him another.

  Glass clinked, and Giles poured another for himself. “A good friend, and honorable man, Morgan Langston, Earl of Whetherford went to London in search of a thief. He happened upon the two sailors beleaguering your sister. He fought them, but he was stabbed. Due to blood loss, he lost consciousness.”

  “Must not be much of a man if he let two galoots manhandle my sister. I would have killed the bloody bastards.”

  “He did.”

  Stephen’s arm stopped midway. The bold statement surprised him. He might need to change his opinion. “Good. And Katherine? She was not harmed?”

  “No. She was not.” Giles turned up his glass, downing his brandy. He filled his glass again.

  When he offered Stephen more, he shook his head in refusal. Already his stomach burned.

  “Your sister bears a remarkable likeness to another woman. A thief Morgan searched for in England. When Lord Whetherford’s men found him, they assumed Katherine to be that woman. They took her to Whetherford Manor.”

  “I have a hard time believing she went with these men willingly,” Stephen growled.

  “These are honorable men. They would not hurt a woman. But they did lock her up in one of the bedchambers. When Morgan recovered, he rectified their mistake. He offered marriage.”

  “So my sister is betrothed to Whetherford.”

  “No, she is not.”

  “Don’t tell me the stubborn chit refused!”

  Giles shifted in his chair. “At first. But then Morgan convinced her.”

  “So she is or she isn’t going to marry Whetherford?”

  Giles drew a deep breath before he answered. “She is not.”

  “There’s something you’re not telling me.” Stephen slid forward and propped his arm on the wooden table. His gut told him there was more—much more—to this tale. But then, his willful sister could be pigheaded at times. “What happened? What did Katherine do to sever the engagement?”

  “Actually, Thornton sorted it out.”

  “My uncle?” His brows rose in surprise. “What the bloody hell for?”

  “Katherine’s disappearance was kept secret. Thornton spread the story Katherine visited her friend Viscountess Roxborough thinking no one would question the Viscount. And no one did. Thornton released Lord Whetherford from his promise. Morgan accepted on the stipulation that Katherine agreed she did not want marriage.”

  “So the betrothal was dissolved.”

  “Yes.”

  Kat didn’t know what was good for her. She’d been spoiled for far too long. That would change as soon as he got home. Stephen lifted his glass, then decided he better not risk burning a hole clear through his belly. “Continue.”

  “When I mentioned, before, about accepting risky missions,” Giles met Stephen’s gaze with a solemn look. “Morgan risked his neck with me.”

  The way Giles skipped from the man’s name to his title, Stephen had a hard timekeeping up. It took a minute for the name to register. If Morgan and Giles were together in treacherous situations, did neither man give a farthing for human life? Missions which possibly were slayings?

  “So the two of you play at being nobles while you sneak off in secret to do your spying and unlawful acts?

  Finally a reaction. Anger steamed off Giles. A white line formed around his mouth with the tightening of his jaw.

  “We play at nothing. He is an earl. I am a duke.”

  Stephen pounded his fist on the oak. “I knew it. I knew in my bones you were a bloody aristocrat. A damned duke.” Stephen rose to his feet.

  “No one knows of my title and I’d like to keep it that way.” Giles eyes glared. His gaze questioning, yet to some extent—a warning.

  “Rest at ease. I have no reason to announce your nobility.”

  “My past is a different life.”

  Stephen crossed his arms and looked down his nose. “Seems more current than former to me.”

  “I’m only here because of my friend and your sister.”

  “Thought my uncle sent you.”

  “I’d already been abreast of the matter. Your sister approached Morgan and asked him to find you.”

  “This tale you’re spinning has more manacles than a ship’s anchor.” He leaned closer absorbed with intense curiosity. “Now, why would Kat go to an earl, one who held her captive, no less? You did say he locked her up.”


  “His men. But she was well cared for.”

  “And, he seems, very forgiving. What else are you not telling me? Why did she go to him?” Anger boiled in the pit of his stomach. The more he heard, the more fire fueled his temper.

  “You know how gossip flows in the ton. When Whetherford Manor’s earl finally returned to accept his inheritance, stories—mostly made up from outrageously creative minds—were spread about his absence. His dark past, dark deeds, fanciful tales making him mysterious. Katherine surmised the Earl of Whetherford could help her find you.”

  “Women.” All the more reason he needed to get home. He glanced at the empty chair and decided he may as well sit for the rest of this account. “How did she manage to get the earl’s cooperation without my uncle knowing of her scheme?” Did he really need to ask? The little minx had a knack for twisting everyone around her little finger.

  “That, I do not know.”

  Stephen waved a hand. “Never mind. Why did the earl . . . Morgan accept?”

  Giles coughed to clear his throat. “I believe he is infatuated with Katherine.”

  Infatuated?

  “What did he ask for payment?” Stephen growled, not liking the impression.

  “Morgan is a gentleman,” Giles answered in a tone of resentment. “No money exchanged hands. No deals were made. However, he did ask me to locate her brother. He hoped it might put him, shall we say, in her good graces.”

  Stephen shoved out of his chair and charged, like a cannonball exploding from a cannon. He grabbed Giles by the throat. “Are you telling me a bloody assassin, who fled his title in disgrace, a man who thought no more of his life than a fart in the wind, has designs on keeping company with my sister?”

  “Calm down. Nothing inappropriate was intended,” Giles said in a rasping voice.

  Stephen squeezed. Before he could say another word, Giles knocked his hands away and Stephen found himself on the floor. Pain seared his left leg. Damn. “If I were at full strength, you’d never best me.”

  “I don’t want to fight you.” Giles shrugged and a corner of his mouth tilted in a smug grin. “But I can’t let you kill me before I deliver you to your family.”

  Stephen rubbed his aching thigh. When Giles offered a hand to help him up, he accepted. “I may have lost some of my bulk, but my resolve is true. Friend or no, I’ll kill the blimey bastard if he has harmed Kat in any way. You aiding me will make no difference.”

  “You have my word,” said Giles.

  “I don’t know you, man. You came looking for me, you’re taking me home, I’m obliged to you. But Kat is blood. She’s my little sister, for God’s sake.”

  “Morgan is an honorable man. He would not take advantage of her.”

  “An honorable man becomes downright shameful when his willy is involved. If I find the man has disrespected my sister in any way, I will tear his limbs from his body. Starting with his most private one.”

  Chapter 18

  Jennifer placed her hand on her chest to calm her racing heart.

  Stephen slammed the cabin door behind him. Eyes blazing, he thrust his hands through his bushy lot of hair. “A duke. A bloody duke. I knew it.”

  “What?” After the jolt he’d just given her, she could barely speak.

  “Giles is a bloody duke.”

  He glared at her like she knew what the blazes he talked about.

  “London aristocracy is one reason I preferred my ship. The ton and their vanities. With their self-importance and self-centeredness.”

  “Giles is a duke? You’re not making any sense.” She thought maybe she misheard.

  Stephen leveled his steely gaze on her. “A duke. The aristocracy in full form.”

  Giles didn’t look anything like a duke. He certainly didn’t act like one.

  When she realized Stephen waited for her answer, she plunged forward. “Surely a duke would never hire himself out on retainer to go searching for a missing person, let alone put his life in peril.”

  That seemed to take some of the gale out of Stephen’s sails. The lines on his brow cleared, but confusion lingered in his gaze.

  “I knew from his speech.” He turned and smacked a fist into his palm causing her to jump. “As sure as my gut suggested, I recognized the signs. Giles moves with imposing authority. Not just a leader, but with the assurance of a nobleman. Expecting his orders to be followed without question.”

  Like you?

  “Um, Stephen . . . doesn’t a captain also expect his orders to be followed?”

  His eyes flew wide. “Of course. But his manner. I’ve seen enough blue-bloods to spot one. Giles’ actions betrayed him.”

  “But a nobleman? How can you be sure?”

  “Other than his admission?”

  Her gasp sounded like an explosion in the cabin.

  “Yes, my dear Jenny,” his voice low and persuading. “A highborn. Not arrogance most titled men deem their entitlement. No, Giles is an exacting individual. Difficult to surmise at first. The man is crafty—lithe movements, keen skills of a particular sort.”

  Stephen paced about the small space. She heard the sound of his words, but at the moment nothing penetrated except the fact that, apparently, Stephen hated the nobility. She had expected this to be difficult—she’d had no idea he felt so strongly.

  Jennifer chewed on her fingernail. How would he react when she told him? Guilt assailed her.

  “Stephen. Is not your family of the aristocracy?”

  He turned and glared as if she’d suddenly grown a new head. “There are others in my distant family. Enough of the male gender to stand in line for a title. I’ve never cared for the dull life of Parliament.”

  She must tell him.

  He gathered her in his arms and rubbed his jaw against the side of her head, caressing her hair. “Ahh, sweet Jenny. I merely came to see how you fare and bid you goodnight.”

  A familiar ache centered in her belly. How could she say anything, think anything, when he held her like this? Of their own accord, her arms lifted and her fingers slipped under his hair, seeking the skin at the back of his neck. She loved the feel of him. She loved his reaction to her ministrations.

  After a few idyllic moments, he pulled back. Enclosing her fingers within his own, he kissed the back of her knuckles. His gaze held hers while his thumb stroked the back of her hand, sending tingles dancing down the center of her spine. And his grin? How could a girl not melt with a handsome rogue bestowing the gleam of a devil’s invitation?

  A mane of tousled hair as red as the fiery sun setting in an evening sky. A rough voice that gentled to husky softness. Sea green eyes that glittered, and sent her tumbling right over the edge of wickedness. Full lips and mind blowing kisses that still burned on her memory. A tingle of awareness chased through her body.

  Revealing her secret would only spoil this moment with him.

  There was always tomorrow.

  Leaning on the wooden rail, Stephen jutted his head into the wind, mindful of the morning sun edging above the horizon. His mind twisted with errant thoughts and irrational ideas. Jenny took up too much of his contemplation. Even now he examined his feelings too closely.

  Feelings?

  There were no feelings. He’d been around the woman too damn long. Generally, his life consisted of sailing the wide span of ocean, more often than not a new wench in a new port when it suited his fancy. Circumstances had delayed his normal way of life—drinking and wenching. Pleasure would be his first objective. Pay a visit to a tavern and find himself a woman. A woman with blue eyes or brown, no matter. With luscious curves and bright colored hair. A tavern maid was just what he needed. If for no other reason than to prove Jenny had no hold over him. Being the only female in close proximity, of course he lusted after her. Saint’s blood, he was a
man.

  And so was every member of this ship. A stab of unknown fervor, very much like jealously, sliced his chest. As quickly as the thought came to his mind, he cursed himself for allowing it access. He searched the deck. Sailors went about their normal duties. How would he know if one was missing?

  Good God. Had he lost his mind? With a certainty, his reaction must stem from protection. Looking out for her well-being. But the little twinge in his chest refused to be discharged. The sensation burrowed and dug and settled like sentiment. Love? Not bloody likely.

  He hooked his thumbs in his belt. Thank God, some of Giles apparel fit. Amazing what a proper set of clothes could do for a man’s dignity. Creaking wenches, flustering sails, raucous sailors—harmonious sounds restoring his soul. He hated being weak. His body would heal. The only thing he needed to concentrate on now was going home.

  Tinkling notes of Jennifer’s voice floated across the breeze and hovered like music to Stephen’s ears. Lifting his gaze, the object of his thoughts strolled toward him—on the arm of the bloody duke. A strange little pressure grabbed his heart. Damn the man’s sorry aristocratic hide. Of course judging from his dress, no one would guess the man a titled lord, let alone one so high in the nobility.

  The wind tugged a few feathery locks away from Jenny’s face. Her head tilted, she shielded her eyes while she scanned the masts. She radiated with beauty. Her enthusiasm only heightened her desirability.