The whole family had turned out to see James off—Jason and Derek, Edward and his whole brood, Anthony and his little Scot, who was looking quite peaked, but understandably so, since Anthony had recently been told he was to be a father. That scamp, Jeremy, was in high spirits, despite the fact this was the first time he would be separated from James since he’d been found six years ago. He was probably thinking he’d be getting away with murder now, with only his Uncle Tony to keep him in line. He’d find out soon enough that Jason and Eddie boy would be keeping an eye on him, too. He’d be reined in as tight if not tighter than he had been under James and his first mate Conrad’s supervision.
The tide put an end to the goodbyes. James’s hangover, which he could blame Anthony for, wouldn’t take much more back-pounding anyway. But it had also almost made him forget the note he had jotted off for the little Scot, explaining to her about the barmaid she had accused her husband of bedding. He called Jeremy up the gangplank and handed it to him.
“See your Aunt Roslynn gets this, but not when Tony’s around.”
Jeremy pocketed the note. “It’s not a love letter, is it?”
“A love letter?” James snorted. “Get out of here, puppy. And see you—”
“I know, I know.” Jeremy threw up his hands, laughing. “I won’t do anything you wouldn’t.”
He ran back down the gangplank before James could take him to task for his impudence. But he was smiling as he turned away, and came face-to-face with Conrad Sharpe, his first mate and best friend.
“What was that about?”
James shrugged, realizing Connie had seen him pass the note. “I decided to lend a hand after all. At the rate Tony’s going, he’d be floundering forever.”
“I thought you weren’t going to interfere,” Connie reminded him.
“Well, he is my brother, isn’t he? Though why I bother after the dirty trick he played on me last night, I don’t know.” At Connie’s raised brow, he grinned, despite the slow throb in his head. “Made sure I’d be feeling miserable today to cast off, the bloody sod.”
“But you went along with it, naturally?”
“Naturally. Couldn’t have the lad drinking me under the table, now, could I? But you’ll have to see us off, Connie. I’m afraid I’m done for. Report to me in my cabin after we’re under way.”
An hour later, Connie poured a measure of rye from the well-stocked cabinet in the captain’s cabin and joined James at his desk. “You’re not going to worry about the boy, are you?”
“That rascal?” James shook his head, wincing slightly when his headache returned, and took another sip of the tonic Connie had had sent from the galley. “Tony will see Jeremy doesn’t get into any serious scraps. If anyone will worry, it’s you. You should have had one of your own, Connie.”
“I probably do. I just haven’t found him yet like you did the lad. You’ve probably more yourself that you don’t know about.”
“Good God, one’s enough,” James replied in mock horror, gaining a chuckle from his friend. “Now what have you to report? How many of the old crew were available?”
“Eighteen. And there was no problem filling the ranks, except for the bo’s’n, as I told you before.”
“So we’re sailing without one? That’ll put a heavy load on you, Connie.”
“Aye, if I hadn’t found a man yesterday, or rather, if he hadn’t volunteered. Wanted to sign on as passengers, him and his brother. When I told him the Maiden Anne don’t carry passengers, he offered to work his way across. A more persistent Scot I’ve never seen.”
“Another Scot? As if I ain’t had enough to do with them lately. I’m bloody well glad your own Scottish ancestors are so far back you don’t remember them, Connie. Between hunting down Lady Roslynn’s cousin and running into that little vixen and her companion—”
“I thought you’d forgotten about that.”
James’s answer was a scowl. “How do you know this Scot knows the first thing about rigging?”
“I put him though the paces. I’d say he’s had the job before. And he does claim to have sailed before, as quartermaster, ship’s carpenter, and bo’s’n.”
“If that’s true, he’ll come in right handy. Very well. Is there anything else?”
“Johnny got married.”
“Johnny? My cabin boy, Johnny?” James’s eyes flared. “Good God, he’s only fifteen! What the devil does he think he’s doing?”
Connie shrugged. “Says he fell in love and can’t bear to leave the little woman.”
“Little woman?” James sneered. “That cocky little twit needs a mother, not a wife.” His head was pounding again, and he swilled down the rest of the tonic.
“I’ve found you another cabin boy. MacDonell’s brother—”
Tonic spewed across James’s desk. “Who?” he choked.
“Blister it, James, what’s got into you?”
“You said MacDonell? Would his first name be Ian?”
“Aye.” Now Connie’s eyes flared. “Good God, he’s not the Scot from the tavern, is he?”
James waved away the question. “Did you get a good look at the brother?”
“Come to think of it, no. He was a little chap, though, quiet, hiding behind his brother’s coattails. I didn’t have much choice in signing him on, what with Johnny only letting me know two days ago that he was staying in England. But you can’t mean to think—”
“But I do.” And suddenly James was laughing. “Oh, God, Connie, this is priceless. I went back to look for that little wench, you know, but she and her Scot had disappeared from the area. Now here she’s fallen right into my lap.”
Connie grunted. “Well, I can see you’re going to have a pleasant crossing.”
“You may depend upon it.” James’s grin was decidedly wolfish. “But we shan’t unmask her disguise just yet. I’ve a mind to play with her first.”
“You could be wrong, you know. She might be a boy after all.”
“I doubt it,” James replied. “But I’ll find out when she begins her duties.”
He slumped back in his comfortably padded chair when Connie left him. He was still grinning, still marveling at the incredible piece of chance that had led the little wench and her Scot to pick his ship out of all those available, especially when it made no sense a ’tall.
Connie said they’d tried to buy passage first, so they must have money. Why not just find another ship? James knew of at least two English vessels that would soon be departing for the West Indies, and one of them had ample accommodations for passengers. Why go to the trouble of disguising the girl and taking the risk she’d be discovered? Or was it a disguise? Hell and fire, the last time he’d seen her, she’d been done up the same. It could be her normal way of dress…no, he was forgetting her upset when Tony had announced that she was a woman, not a man. She’d been hiding her sex then, was hiding it now—or hoped to do so.
His cabin boy. What nerve she had! James shook his head, chuckling.
It was going to be interesting indeed to see how she planned to get away with it. A poorly lit tavern was one thing, but on a ship, in the bright light of day? And yet she’d obviously fooled Connie. Maybe she could have gotten away with it if James hadn’t met her once before. But he had, and he hadn’t forgotten the meeting, remembered it quite well, in fact; her cute little backside that had so intrigued him, a tender breast that had fit so nicely in his hand. Her features had been exquisitely delicate: the perfectly molded cheekbones, the pert little nose, the wide, sensual lips. He hadn’t seen her brows, nor a bit of her hair, but for those few moments when she’d finally looked up at him outside that tavern, he had become lost in velvety-brown eyes.
He’d gone back not once but half a dozen times trying to find her in the last month. He realized now why he’d had no luck. No one knew anything of the pair because they’d never been in that area before, likely never even been to London before. It would be a safe bet to assume they were from the West Indies and now returning home, rather than the other way around. MacDonell might be a Scot, but the wench wasn’t. James hadn’t been able to place her distinctive accent, but English it wasn’t, of that he was certain.
She was a mystery, all right, and one he meant to solve. But first he was going to amuse himself with her charade by installing her in his cabin and letting her think his cabin boy always slept there. He would have to pretend he didn’t recognize her, or let her assume he simply didn’t remember their encounter. Of course, there was the possibility that she might not remember it, but no matter. Before the voyage was over, she’d share more than his cabin. She’d share his bed.