by Eva Devon
Adam blew out a harsh breath. “True. The man’s too wise to be caught, now that he knows we’re after him. No doubt he will have gone in a completely different route. Even if we split up, we won’t be able to find him.”
“So, what do we do?” she asked, surprised she was asking her brothers’ advice. That wasn’t something she’d ever needed to do before.
“We go to London,” Adam said tightly. “We tell Calliope what’s happened.”
She grimaced. She hated the idea of having to tell her sister that they had failed.
Well, not exactly failed.
It wasn’t as if they had told Calliope of their endeavor.
As a matter of fact, Calliope had no idea what they’d done. Still, it was very disappointing to be going back to the docks without Captain Lockhart Eversleigh in tow, but she couldn’t change the outcome now.
Cleo led them out into the quieter hallway. “So, we could tie Rutherford up.”
“He’s not tied up now?” Alexander demanded.
“I locked him in, and I doubt he can jump that far out the window. It’s quite a ways down.”
Adam sighed. “To think it’s come to this.”
Alexander’s brow furrowed. “I say we toss him over the back of a horse—”
“I do think he’ll put up a bit of a fight,” Cleo said.
Adam grinned, clearly pleased by the idea. “That big bloke? Of course he’ll put up a fight. He’s not a silly, mincing fool.”
“I gathered as much,” she agreed. “He seems quite determined, and I rather think he might actually enjoy a round of fisticuffs with the two of you.”
“More fool, he,” gritted Alexander.
Adam rolled his eyes. “The two of us would pound him into the ground.”
“I think he might give as good as he gets,” she observed.
Studying her face, Adam rushed, “You do like him.”
“Only just a bit.” She laughed. “He’s rather beautiful, you know?”
Adam and Alexander groaned simultaneously as their eyes rolled again.
Most brothers would never hear their sister speak of the beauty of another man, but they were not a typical family. Adam and Alexander were the legitimate children of Captain Duke of Boston, Massachusetts. Cleo and Calliope, on the other hand, were the bastard daughters of their father, and they had been born on the wrong side of the blanket in the Caribbean to a woman named Anne Donnelly, an Irish marauder who’d sailed the seas and made her life around the globe, upon the oceans.
Cleo took a good deal after their mother. Calliope, an adventurer herself, had still somehow seemed to hanker more for security than Cleo did.
Cleo didn’t need stability.
Stability was for fools.
No, she loved that a squall could come in at any moment or that the doldrums might be there. Life was full of uncertainty, and she loved every moment of that. She embraced it with everything she had.
“So, if we’re not going to murder him, what exactly will we do?” asked Adam dryly. “He is an earl, after all. It could be devilishly difficult, making his hide pay.”
Alexander rubbed his chin with his strong fingers. “I don’t really fancy the idea of jumping him in an alleyway. He doesn’t seem a terrible sort in that way.”
She laughed. “Oh, no. I’m sure we can think of something else.”
“Oh, Cleo, what are you thinking?” Alexander asked, his smile full of anticipation.
“I haven’t decided yet, if you must know, but he’s not going to get away with this.” She set her jaw and started for the stairs. “Not scot-free, anyway. Calliope’s happiness matters far too much to me to allow anything but a bit of revenge.”
Chapter 3
The Earl of Rutherford stood in the room, wondering if he’d made the right decision.
Letting Lock go had seemed like a good idea at the time. But didn’t all ideas seem good at the time they were made?
Surely, the man had seemed very determined to get back to Calliope, and he too wanted Calliope’s happiness.
She was a remarkable woman, whom he admired very much, and he didn’t think Calliope Duke would like to have the man she loved brought to her in chains. Oh, no, she’d never want him then if that’s how it happened. So, letting Lock go was really the only thing to be done, though he wasn’t entirely certain what was to happen next.
He liked the Duke brothers.
And the sister, well, she was something else, and he found himself desperately intrigued.
Still, he doubted she would stay in England for long.
The Dukes seemed to be people who liked to migrate.
It was remarkable, really, that Adam and Alexander had stayed as long as they had in England. He liked them well enough. He liked the whole family. His own family had been remarkably boring and rather cruel, and he’d grown up trying to find pleasure where he could.
But he’d never been able to be quite, well, free. Too many years of rules and dictates on duty had made that impossible. So now, as he lingered in the dark room, he wondered if he was being an absolute idiot for staying. Surely, a man such as himself, with the skills he had, could simply just slip away and never look back. Yet, he didn’t wish to. . . And that was the truth. He wanted this adventure. . .
Besides, he was an earl.
What could they do to him?
Nothing.
It was that simple. He was one of the most powerful men in England, and yet, he also granted that the Dukes were clever, industrious, and very capable, but they would never be able to really, truly do anything to him. He wasn’t particularly concerned that they would either, for they seemed a rather honorable sort even if they were slightly mad.
In the end, he knew exactly why he wasn’t slipping out the window or forcing the door.
Cleo Duke.
Unlike her sister, Cleo Duke was a mystery.
And a mystery he quite liked. She was dangerous, defiant, fabulous, fascinating. There were not words enough to describe a woman like that. He could not see her dancing at a ball, but, oh, did he long to. And so, he waited to see if she’d return or if she and her brothers would head off into the night. Or would she bring her brothers back to attempt to beat him into a pulp?
If they tried, he would certainly do his damnedest to give as good as he got.
He lingered for several moments, listening for the approach, but then he wondered, was this really, truly foolish of him?
What was he doing, bandying about with a woman like Cleo Duke?
The annoying fact was it was his duty to find a nice, young lady, marry her, and get an heir. The last house party he attended had been a revelation.
He’d realized how much he did not wish to marry a simple, sheep brain, young woman. No. He wished to marry someone who could be a soul mate, a helpmate in fact, someone who would make his life enjoyable and fascinating and interesting. Not someone he had to somehow endure for the next fifty years until one of them shuffled off this mortal coil.
But he doubted someone like Cleo would ever stay anywhere long enough to be a helpmate to an earl. She was an adventurer. England would not be her domain. The sea was her purpose, and his was to stay.
He could not go about the world, traveling and making do wherever he went.
For he had great lands to run and laws to make and rules to uphold and the future to create. It was his lot in life as an earl, and one he appreciated. He could have been born with no influence at all, but he had a great deal of it, and he intended to use it.
So, running off to parts unknown was not possible for a man like he. He strode to the window and looked down to the courtyard.
There were several horses and the groomsmen taking care of them. He wondered how far Lock had gotten, if he was on his way to his love, or if he was going to do some idiotic thing like run away. He hoped to God, Lock had the courage to do what he had said he would and intended.
He’d have a far happier life if he did.
Running
, always running, trying to find happiness. It seemed to be the lot of every man he knew. Most of them didn’t run very far. They ran to the tavern or the brothel or the gambling hall, but they were running all the same, desperately hoping and looking for something in this life that never seemed to change.
He wasn’t fool enough to be completely full of ennui because he had far too much luck. No. Some men were born in poverty or cruelty or desperation and slavery, for all that matter. He was not allowed to have ennui.
No, he was not allowed to be bored, and he wasn’t allowed to be overly discontented, or so he told himself every day.
For a man like he, well, he had too much to be grateful for.
So, there was a part of him, just a small part, that stood there, waiting, hoping that the Duke brothers would come up and pound him to within an inch of his life just so he might feel something, something particularly real and raw, and he wondered what she would do. If she would try to stop them or if she would encourage them.
She didn’t seem completely the vicious sort.
All he knew was that he wished to see more of her.
To hear her voice, to talk with her again, to know her thoughts about the world and about life in general because she was unlike anyone he’d ever known, and really, he was tired of having acquaintance with everyone and everything. To be friends with someone completely different from himself sounded. . . marvelous. It seemed like it could be liberating, and that’s what he needed.
A little bit of liberation, even if he could never leave.
Footsteps finally echoed down the other end of the hall, and then there were whispers on the other side of the door. He cocked a smile to himself.
They were here, of course.
It was time.
And he wondered what fate was in store for him. He was certainly ready for it, whatever it was, but, God, he prayed they wouldn’t simply let him go. How disappointing would that prove?
How mundane? How uninventive of them?
He surely hoped more from them than that, and while he realized it was absolutely absurd that he was hoping for some sort of adventure out of this particular moment, he did, and that was that, and somehow, he was going to have one.
He wasn’t going to let this moment pass, for something like this would probably never occur to him again.
No, he was not going to let Cleo Duke slip through his fingers.
Chapter 4
Cleo Duke strode in through the chamber door and caught sight of the blastedly handsome man standing by the window, his arms folded across his broad chest. Moonlight filtered in, dancing over his russet hair and over his white linen shirt.
He was far too beautiful by half.
She longed to unwrap him like a present. First, she’d start with his shirt. She’d untie the ties at the neck, slipping the fabric back over his broad shoulders. Then she’d slide her hands over his skin.
Just looking at him, she knew he wouldn’t be completely silken.
Oh, it was true; he was a gentleman and a lord, but he seemed to be the sort who liked to work with his hands or, at least, to do a bit of bare-knuckle boxing. . . for his hands were rough.
They were not the silly soft stuff she’d seen from the other lords of this land. His hips were wasp-like against the contrast of his broad shoulders, but his legs were thick and strong, just the perfect thing too. . .
“Madam, you seem most fascinated with my person.”
“Oh, I am,” she said without embarrassment. “You are a particularly fine piece of flesh, my lord.”
He coughed at that. “I beg your pardon?”
“You know of what I speak, Rutherford,” she said, suppressing a laugh. “Very few men can match your mettle. You know it, I know it. There would be no point in arguing otherwise.”
He had the good grace to look slightly humbled though it was fleeting. “I’ve never been assessed quite so firmly by a woman.”
“Indeed?” she queried, glad her brothers had decided to wait before making their entrance. For this discourse was too delightful to miss. “You’ve never received such compliments?”
“Oh, I’ve received compliments,” he confessed, his voice that delicious low rumble. “But nothing quite like that.”
She winked at him. “Well, it was about time, then, was it not?”
His eyes sparked with a slow fire. “Can you admire me so and not lead me to believe you might wish to make use of me?”
She cocked her brows at that “To make use of you?”
Suddenly, there was a loud clearing of throats from the hallway. “I’m very uncomfortable with this line of conversation,” Alexander announced loudly.
Adam let out a sound of discontent to match.
“My God, brother, are you a Puritan?” Cleo called over her shoulder to the slightly open door.
“I’m not a Puritan,” Adam defended as he strode in. “But I’m still your brother, and this conversation makes me incredibly uncomfortable. I don’t like the idea of having to belt him in the face for despoiling your honor.”
“He couldn’t do that,” she assured, grinning at her brothers as they entered the room, making it seem much smaller. “I have no honor to despoil.”
“That’s not true,” Rutherford disagreed easily. “I’d wager you’re probably one of the most honorable people in this room or even in this county.”
She laughed at that. “I suppose it really does depend on what one considers honor.”
“Exactly,” Rutherford stood, his body silhouetted before the window, a pillar of strength and confidence. “Now, are you here to murder me or to have done?”
“To have done,” she said, smiling. “We shall not do murder on English soil today. We do not wish to start another war.”
“Ah,” Rutherford breathed sagely. “Wars are costly, it’s a true thing. And they can last a good long time.”
“Yes, I have no wish to waste years upon English soil,” she declared with great bravado. “I have a destination to keep in a ship ready to sail.”
Rutherford’s eyes seem to cool at that. “Of course, you do,” he said suddenly.
She blinked, stunned by his sudden change. “I beg your pardon?”
“Of course you cannot bear to stay upon English soil,” he said simply, gesturing towards the window. “It is too much for you.”
Too much?
“I beg your pardon?” she challenged again.
He gave her a knowing stare, cocking his head down to better meet her gaze. “I wager you could not survive one month in a ballroom or amongst the ton.”
“I beg your pardon?” she repeated once more, stunned by what he was doing.
“I wager you could not,” he said, oh, so slowly.
She gaped at him. “You wager I could not bear to spend a month amongst your kind?”
Her brothers exchanged quick glances as if they knew something was afoot that they wouldn’t be able to manage.
“Absolutely,” Rutherford declared grandly. “As a matter of fact, I do not think you could spend a single day amongst the ton. You would run off back to your ship and then hie off to parts unknown because you would not be able to stand them.”
“I can barely stand you,” she pointed out, her insides heating at his audacity and something. . . else.
“You see?” he all but crowed before adding, “And I am the most pleasing of fellows. It only goes to show how little time you could take in London.”
She studied him. What the devil was he about?
Was he provoking her on purpose, she wondered.
Did he wish her to stay? It was a most interesting thing to consider. She did not like the idea of staying in London. She loathed it, and as a matter of fact, she’d done everything she could to stay away from the capital.
And when they arrived at the dock, she had asked Calliope to go and do all of their work for them so she remained aboard the Wasp. It was not until Calliope’s heart was broken that she had ventured off the vessel.
“Sir, I do not know if you realize what words you speak to me.” She gave him a daring stare. “I am not one to take them easily.”
“Aren’t you?” he countered, undeterred. “I dare you to stay then.”
“Dare?” she riposted. “I am not a child to be dared.”
“No?” He laughed softly. “You will not take my dare?”
“Why should I?” she demanded, though she was shocked she was even considering such a thing.
Adam let out a sigh, but he and Alexander remained silent as if observing a tennis match.
“Because,” Rutherford said, leaning forward, “I genuinely don’t believe you can do it.”
Her brothers coughed and shuffled their feet from behind her. “Don’t take it,” Adam urged. “Do not take the wager.”
“Nor the dare,” added Alexander for good measure.
Rutherford cocked his head. “You see, your brothers do not believe that you can do it, either.”
She grinned at him. “You think you can provoke me so easily?”
“Oh,” he scoffed, his sensual lips parting. “I do not think it is an easy thing, indeed. As a matter of fact, I cannot wait for you to go.”
She hid a wince. Could he possibly mean it? Why would she even care if he did?
“You have made my life most difficult, Cleo Duke,” he ground out. “For you make me want a woman I cannot have.”
“I heard that,” bellowed Adam Duke.
“Of course, you did,” Rutherford said pointedly. “You’re not deaf or in your dotage. It is very clear that your sister likes me, and I like her, but we’re two entirely different people and should not waste a moment together, because, well, it will all only end in tears.”
“End in tears, will it?” she replied skeptically. “You make me sound as if I am a delicate flower.”
“Aren’t you?” Rutherford queried, his gaze softening.
“I am not,” she said, tempted to teach him exactly what she was made of, and it certainly wasn’t petals.
A slow smile, a wolfish smile, parted Rutherford’s lips. “Then, stay in London for a time, and enjoy your time with me. I promise to show you the town.”
