by Merry Farmer
Sir Peter cleared his throat. “I was about to ask the same question, but now I think I may know,” he said, once again waving them into his study. He made his way to his desk, searched for a key in one drawer, and then unlocked one of the bottom drawers. “I’ll be damned,” he murmured.
Blake lifted the heavier valise onto the desk. “Are you missing twenty-thousand pounds, perhaps?”
Sir Peter opened the valise and stared inside. “Is this some sort of joke?”
Frowning, Blake did the same and then gave a quelling glance. “That’s your daughter’s Little Bo Beep gown,” he said. “Made for a rather fetching costume, but poor Miss Wycliff was forced to wear it until just last night when we discovered the gown she’s wearing now was inside the valise,” he explained as he waved to Barbara’s frock. “My first mate managed to switch valises on Woodcock, so your daughter could have a change of clothes as well as get the ransom money back.”
He set the empty valise on the floor and then pulled the pink satin gown from the full valise followed by the three petticoats and the set of drawers, settling each item over an arm until only the money was left at the bottom of the bag.
“Good God!” Sir Peter whispered, his attention going to Althea. She stood next to Chamberlain, who had a grip on one of her arms.
“He made me do it. If I hadn’t, he would have killed me, too,” she said in a plaintive voice.
“How did you even know about the money in the first place?” Blake asked, the memory of something she had said the day before niggling at the back of his brain.
Althea dipped her head. “Sir Peter spoke of it in my hearing. Said he never knew if—”
“If I might be in need of blunt in a hurry,” Sir Peter finished for her. He huffed before turning his attention to Lord Chamberlain. “I thought you said you had a man following Dorchester,” he said, obviously annoyed to learn it was Dorchester who had kidnapped his daughter.
“That was me,” Blake acknowledged, lifting a hand. “Dorchester gave me the slip during the supper, though. Rather than return to the ballroom by the main doors, he exited through another set of doors into a hallway, and by the time I sorted he had left the mansion, his coach was speeding off, as was yours,” he explained. “I wrongly assumed Miss Wycliff was in your coach. I didn’t even know Dorchester was in possession of your daughter until I received word from Lord Chamberlain the following morning. Had I any idea, I assure you, I would have pursued his coach.”
Sir Peter nodded his understanding, and then his attention turned to his daughter, his graying brows furrowing. “Did he ruin you?”
Barbara shook her head. She explained what had happened up until Blake carried her to the Molly, including how the Tuscan’s captain didn’t believe her claim that she was kidnapped.
“So, where is Dorchester now? I’ve a mind to maim that man,” Sir Peter claimed.
“In the brig of my ship. I thought it best he remain there, seeing as how he cannot be arrested,” Blake answered in disgust.
“Whatever do you mean? He kidnapped my daughter!”
“He’s a baron. A lord. He’s protected from civil law,” Blake replied.
“But not from his peers,” Chamberlain stated. “Russell, I received your missive and sent a couple of my men to retrieve the bastard. He’ll be held until the lord chancellor can be summoned.”
“Will he be sent to Newgate?” Blake asked, worried for Barbara’s safety. He moved to stand next to her, gratified when she placed a hand on his arm.
“That would be preferable,” Chamberlain replied, just before his brows furrowed. “You seem especially concerned.”
Blake glanced over at Barbara. Still holding the dress and petticoats over one arm, he looked like a valet assigned to the wrong sex. “I am concerned. For Miss Wycliff. Dorchester will seek revenge against her should he ever have the opportunity to do so,” he said. “I must be assured of her safety.”
“Oh?” Sir Peter put in. “I think that was supposed to be my line.”
“Well, yes. And it would have been if she hadn’t agreed to marry me,” Blake replied. “That is, if you’re of a mind to give me permission to court her,” he went on, grimacing when he realized this wasn’t the way he planned to do it. “I’m in love with her, you see.” He furrowed his brows. “I think I have been since I danced with her at the ball.”
Chamberlain blinked.
Sir Peter blinked.
Althea allowed a watery grin. “How romantic,” she wailed.
“Barbara?” Sir Peter said as he turned his attention on her. “Would you care to explain?”
She glanced up at Blake before she said, “We spoke at the ball. He was dressed as a pirate. We danced twice—he taught me how to waltz. And then the next time I saw him, he was on the deck of the Molly shouting he was there to rescue me.”
“I was a bit dramatic,” Blake murmured, his face taking on a dark red shade.
“And he waved his sword about—”
“Cutlass, my sweet.”
“His cutlass about to ensure no one on the Tuscan challenged him. One of the crewmen even knocked Mr. Smith—”
“That was Fitz, our sailing master,” Blake said, for Chamberlain’s benefit.
“Who is Mr. Smith?” Chamberlain queried, his brows furrowing in confusion.
“Lord Dorchester. He used the name Mr. Smith when he arranged transportation to Calais,” Blake explained.
Barbara took a breath. “So Mr. Fitz knocked out Lord Dorchester just as Blake lifted me into his arms and carried me to the Molly.” She sighed as a grin appeared to brighten her face. “It was exciting and frightening and awful, because I was still in that hideous Bo Peep costume—”
“It’s not hideous,” Blake interrupted. “It’s rather fetching on you.” When he noted her quelling glance, he added, “But I like this one better.”
“How romantic,” Althea murmured again.
Sir Peter furrowed a brow. “So... once you were on the Molly? What happened?” he asked, suspicion evident in his voice.
“Well, we realized Woodcock was on the Tuscan,” she replied. “But Nelson—he’s the first mate—he had switched the valises so that my valise, with the money and this gown, was still on the Molly. So I was finally able to rid myself of that awful costume and get some sleep since Blake allowed me the use of his quarters for the rest of the trip back to London.” She beamed in delight as she stared up at Blake.
He grinned back at her and dropped a kiss on the crown of her head.
“Did you ruin her?” Sir Peter asked in alarm.
Blake’s eyes widened. “Why, no sir. But I do wish to court your daughter—”
“What about the Molly?” Chamberlain asked, with just as much alarm.
“Oh, I can still captain a ship,” he replied. “Continue my work for you,” he added, realizing he couldn’t admit he worked for the Foreign Service. “We talked about this, and Miss Wycliff is agreeable to the idea.”
Sir Peter cleared his throat. “She might be, but... are you just doing this for her dowry?”
“Father!”
Blake frowned. “No, sir. I’m quite able to support a wife on my income,” he replied. “However, there is the matter of pay for my crew’s help in retrieving your daughter.”
It was Chamberlain’s turn to clear his throat. “Sir Peter, if you recall your words from a few nights ago? In my orders to Captain Russell, I implied that there was a reward involved in Miss Wycliff’s safe return.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” Sir Peter replied. He glanced down at the valise. “Is twenty-thousand pounds sufficient?” he asked. He pushed the valise in Blake’s direction.
Blake and Chamberlain exchanged glances. “Split fifteen ways means over thirteen hundred pounds a piece,” Blake whispered. “I may never get them back on board.”
Sir Peter angled his head to one side. “You would do that?”
Blake gave a shake of his head. “Do what, sir?”
“Split t
he money evenly with your crew?”
Blake lifted a shoulder. “Of course. All the members of my crew receive an equal share of any reward. Any bounty,” he replied.
“How long have you been a ship’s captain?” Sir Peter asked, his manner having changed to open curiosity.
“A year now. I was the first mate of the Molly before that.”
“Ever been interested in captaining a merchant ship?” the baronet asked with an arched brow.
Dipping his head, Blake dared a glance at Barbara before he said, “I hadn’t given it any thought.”
“I’m considering the purchase of a fleet of ships,” Sir Peter explained. “Wilson’s fleet.”
“Now, see here, sir. You cannot be taking my best captain,” Chamberlain argued.
“I think that should be up to my future son-in-law, don’t you?” Sir Peter replied.
Blake inhaled slowly as Barbara tightened her hold on his arm. “I told you,” she whispered.
Turning to Chamberlain, Blake said, “It’s all right. Nelson is ready to take command, and Fitz would make an excellent first mate. He’s all about the rules.”
The viscount huffed. “So, how are you going to split the reward?”
“He keeps ten-thousand pounds as my daughter’s dowry, and the rest can be split fourteen ways,” Sir Peter announced.
Chamberlain furrowed a brow, as if he was attempting to do the math in his head.
“Seven-hundred, fourteen pounds and ten shillings,” Blake whispered.
“You have a mission to complete regarding a certain French smuggler,” Chamberlain whispered, a reminder of the mission they had been about to embark on when they received the note about the kidnapping.
“So I won’t distribute the reward until we’re in the Channel,” Blake reasoned.
“Agreed,” the viscount said with a nod. He turned to the baronet. “Well, good day. Perhaps I’ll see you at White’s tonight?”
Sir Peter shook his head. “Maybe tomorrow. I shall spend this evening having dinner with my daughter. Seems she won’t be around much longer, and I rather imagine she’ll be planning a wedding here shortly.”
Barbara beamed in delight.
“What about Miss Woodcock?” Blake asked, his attention back on the viscount.
Chamberlain gave the lady’s maid a quelling glance. “If she cooperates and testifies against Dorchester, then I think we’ll forego any charges against her,” he reasoned.
Althea’s eyes widened. “I will, of course, as long as the baron is kept locked up,” she replied.
“Perhaps you might consider a move to the country. Maybe take a position in a manor house?” Chamberlain hinted. “I rather doubt Dorchester would bother trying to find you even if he wasn’t locked up in Newgate.” He moved to untie her hands.
“We’ll see to a character for you,” Sir Peter offered. “And pay for the past month. Broadus will escort you to your room, and you can pack up your things.” He glanced down at the empty valise near his feet. “You can use this,” he offered, lifting the bag and offering it to her.
“Thank you, sir,” she said as she rubbed her wrists and then took the valise. She left the study with Broadus.
“Well, it seems I’ll be heading out in the morning,” Blake said as he turned his attention to Barbara. “Low tide. Perhaps you would agree to a walk in the park? Maybe an ice at Gunther’s?”
Barbara grinned. “I’d like that.” She turned to her father, intending to ask if she could go, but he merely waved a hand.
“Go on,” he said with a sigh. “But have her back before dinner,” he warned. “Or I’ll report that she’s been kidnapped.”
“Very good, sir,” Blake said as he gave a bow. He took the valise in one hand and offered the other to Barbara.
When they headed up the stairs, Barbara gave him a sideways glance. “Are we really going to the park?” she asked in a whisper.
Blake blinked. “Did you... wish to go somewhere else?”
She gave him a quelling glance. “Remember what you said? About when we were betrothed?”
His brows furrowed in confusion before he realized what she meant. “Today?” he asked in surprise.
“You think me fast,” she said on a sigh.
“No, that’s not it. I just... I didn’t think you would want to lose your virtue on your first day back. Given what’s happened and all.”
She stopped in front of her bedchamber and pushed open the door to reveal an ornately decorated room in peaches and greens. “I’ve thought of almost nothing else since last night,” she murmured. “Especially since I didn’t do anything for you.”
Blake paused on the threshold, his gaze taking in the gilded plasterwork and rich fabrics. “That’s not true,” he murmured as he finally crossed into the bedchamber and then quickly shut the door. “It gave me a great deal of pleasure to be able to see to yours,” he argued. “Besides, I really don’t think it’s wise for us to do it here.”
“Why ever not? The bed is comfortable—”
“Everyone in the household will hear,” he argued.
Her eyes widened. “They will?”
He rolled his own eyes. “My sweet, when I make love to you, I intend to have you screaming with pleasure for the entire world to hear,” he claimed. “Or, at least so it can be heard in the next door apartment.”
“Apartment?” she repeated.
“I have one in Picadilly.”
“We’ll go there, then.”
Blake allowed a chuckle before he kissed her thoroughly. “I do hope you’re always this willing,” he murmured.
“Threaten me with your sword, and I will be.”
“Cutlass, you mean.”
She shook her head. “Sword,” she corrected, her hand cupping his hardened manhood through the placket of his breeches.
“I stand corrected,” he replied happily.
Epilogue
A few months later
Barbara awoke to the gentle sway of her father’s newest acquisition. The Barbara, captained by her husband and manned by a crew of fourteen, was due to make its maiden voyage to Belgium later that morning. Although the hold wasn’t full, it would be on the return trip, arrangements having been made for them to pick up a shipment bound for London.
The bed in which she had been sleeping for the past few nights was proving far too comfortable, but then it helped that her companion was seeing to her comfort in more ways than one.
“Good morning, sleepy head,” Blake said, just before he kissed her forehead. “How is my treasure on this fine day?”
She grinned and returned the kiss. “I don’t know why I’m so tired of late,” she whispered, delighting in the feel of his warm hands as they smoothed over her night rail in their quest to awaken other parts of her body.
Blake lifted the fabric of her gown until her belly was exposed. “I’ve no idea, either,” he lied, struggling to keep from chuckling. At some point, she would realize she hadn’t had her monthly courses the entire time they’d been married. Until then, he intended to simply revel in having her all to himself. Once the babe was born, he would have to share.
At least, that’s what Nelson had told him. How the new captain of the Molly could know such a thing, he didn’t dare guess, but thought it was best to be prepared.
As for the new captain’s other announcement, Blake found he wasn’t a bit surprised. Althea Woodcock and Nelson had said their vows a few days after the Molly’s return from their mission to capture the French privateer.
Apparently Nelson had decided the former lady’s maid was fruitful enough for him. Either that, or Althea had threatened to divulge secrets from their past.
Blake kissed Barbara’s belly and then was about to move farther down when he remembered news he learned the night before. “I received a missive from Viscount Chamberlain,” he said between kisses on her thighs.
“Oh?”
“Seems Dorchester’s fate has been decided.” He regretted having said
anything when she suddenly sat up and the target his tongue intended to touch disappeared.
“Newgate?” she guessed. Her eyes widened. “Or will he dance the hempen jig?”
His brows rising at hearing her mention the pirate term for a hanging, Blake shook his head. “Australia. He’s being transported tomorrow,” Blake murmured, his hands gripping her hips in an effort to reposition her.
“Is that good?”
“It is,” he replied, settling his head between her thighs once she had her knees bent. “He’ll never be able to threaten you—or Woodcock—again.” The cur had certainly tried, but any letters he wrote were intercepted before they could make their way to the intended recipients.
“Now, I’m going after buried treasure,” he warned.
Blake delighted in hearing Barbara’s inhalation of breath as his tongue circled its target. Having several months of experience in the matter, he knew exactly what to do to have her crying out his name followed by a series of platitudes and words of gratitude.
This morning was no different.
His favorite moment was always the next one, when she begged for him. That she sometimes did so at other times—rather inconvenient times—meant his crew had quickly learned he was at her beck and call.
At the threat of docked pay, they were good about not mentioning how he was being led by his cock by his new wife.
And anyway, he didn’t mind.
“I need your sword,” she whispered, breathless. “Please.”
And there it was.
“Prepare to be boarded,” he warned with a grin, just before he impaled her, groaning as he shoved his sword in her warm, wet sheath.
He loved how her torso lifted from the bed, her breasts bobbing about as he thrust into her over and over. How her thighs gripped his sides so his hands could cup the sides of her breasts and his thumbs could tease her engorged nipples.
What better bounty could there be?
Ecstasy, of course. He knew when it claimed her, for he could feel her inner muscles clenching on him, pulling his sword deeper into her. When he allowed his own ecstasy only a moment later, he was swept into a maelstrom of sensation so pleasurable, he often wondered how he would make his way back to the surface.
