Thirty-six

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Emma woke to the sound of tapping. She was confused for a minute, trying to get her bearings. It was still dark, and she was sleeping in a small bunk in a room that was gently swaying.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Emma sat up, her memory flooding back. She was on the Lady Kate, sleeping in Dare’s bed.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Emma grabbed the blanket and flung herself out of bed, having to catch herself, as she was not accustomed to the roll of the ship. She fumbled for the small key in the darkness and struggled to unlock the door.

Finally, she was able to open the door to find Dare in his shirtsleeves, illuminated by the orange light of a lantern. Of course she had seen him in states of much less dress, but still her breath caught.

“What is wrong?” she whispered.

“Nothing. Past four. Morning watch already up.” He stood tall and solemn.

Emma rubbed her eyes. “You start the day at four in the morning?”

“Aye.” Dare ducked his head as he entered. “Forgive me. Need fresh linen. Go back to sleep.” He walked past her and opened his sea locker, pulling out some items.

Emma wrapped the blanket tighter around herself and stepped onto its edges to protect her bare feet from the cold. Watching him gather his clothes to dress for the morning was rather domestic. She liked it.

He leaned down to her, and she thought he was going to give her a kiss on the cheek, as if they were an old married couple. “Lock the door and stay hidden” was what he whispered instead.

“When will you return?” she whispered in return, feeling now she was becoming a little too domestic.

“Noon.”

That meant she would have the next eight hours to sit by herself, locked in his small sleeping cabin. “Forgive me but where are my books?” asked Emma, hoping she was not pushing too much.

Dare frowned. “Books?”

“My medical books. And my novels. I would like to read to pass the time if you do not mind.”

Dare’s frown turned into a painful expression. “The books went overboard, so I could make room for you in the trunk.”

Emma was silent for a moment. “I see. Well, it was done in my service, so I will thank you. Of course, now I will never know how the Captain’s Curse ends.” She meant it as a joke, but Dare took it to heart.

“If we survive, I shall buy you—”

“No, no, do not trouble yourself. I am indebted to you in ways I can never repay. I was only thinking of how to pass the time.”

Dare frowned again and returned to his sea chest, retrieving a burgundy-leather-bound book. “This is my logbook. Only book I have. Very dull perhaps, but it records the actions I have taken.”

“Oh, yes, that sounds interesting. What better than to read about a real naval adventure.” Emma grabbed the book eagerly, relishing the opportunity to know her enigmatic sea captain better. She tried to take the book, but Dare held it fast, frowning at the leather volume.

“Did you not wish me to read it?” she asked, wondering why he had not let go.

“Yes. If you wish.” He slowly peeled his fingers off the leather book and she took it. He continued to regard her and the book, so she opened it up, curious what he had written the day before.

“You did not write in your log yesterday,” she observed.

“Much of yesterday will never go in the log,” he muttered and with a last, longing glance at his log, he left the room.

Much to Emma’s dismay, he took the lantern with him, so she had to wait until dawn to begin reading his log. She dressed in her warmest frock and wrapped her cloak around her against the damp sea air. There was no window in the room, but a hatch, which could be opened, so the cannon could be rolled out to fire. Cracking open the cannon hatch for light, she eagerly began to read of Darington’s life.

Emma pored over the pages of the log, each page drawing her deeper into the life of the Earl of Darington. The log was a study in understatement. He was careful to note details, longitude and latitude, actions taken, accountings of prizes secured, all written in a simple, straightforward, detached prose.

He wrote about the most harrowing and exciting of times, but all without emotion. He was not a man to let his sentiments show. In fact, if she had only read the log, she would think he had no emotional reactions to anything in his life.

Reading the impassive prose, she realized he had been positively gushing with emotion when he had been with her. Far from being reserved because he was indifferent, he only appeared indifferent because he was so reserved. If she had any lingering doubts regarding his affection for her, they faded as she read his log.

He must love her. The truth was in his kiss.

Despite the uncertainty of their situation, there were a few things of which she was sure. She admired him. She loved him. And she had every reason to hope he loved her in return. Perhaps they should kiss some more, so she could better ascertain his true feelings.

Emma lay back on the bunk, hugging the logbook to her. Yes, she must explore this further.

* * *

As soon as the light would allow, Dare scanned the horizon for any sign of the ship. He even climbed up to the crow’s nest himself to scan the horizon for any sight of the Kestrel. He saw none. He had continued in a straight line from the last sighting of the Kestrel, hoping for luck to be on his side, but apparently it was not.

How long would he continue to look for Harcourt with Emma hidden in his cabin? How long could he hide her from view?

The morning seemed to drag on. He saw no sign of the Kestrel and all he could think about was Emma in his cabin, reading about his life. He had never before allowed anyone to read his private log. Not even Kate had ever cracked it open.

He wondered what Emma thought of him. Was she repulsed by the life he had led? His log certainly chronicled life at sea without flinching. It described the actions, the ships he had taken, the men he had lost. He had been in Emma’s presence with hardly a stitch on, but felt more naked, more exposed now, knowing she was reading his log. What must she think of him?

Dare had never been so eager for the midday meal. He waited in his ready room for the tray to be brought, then locked the outer door and tapped on the door to his private quarters to release his female contraband.

She opened the door, holding her precious log. Her face was bright but inscrutable. He motioned for her to enter the ready room to eat, and they both sat down at the table. He wanted desperately to know what she thought of him now, but could not find the words to ask.

“Are you finished?” he whispered gruffly, pointing at the log.

Emma leaned close, her breath in his ear. “Yes, it is a fascinating read. Thank you for lending it to me.”

She leaned back to eat, though he wished she would say more.

“Hope it was not dull,” he whispered, desperately fishing for answers.

“Not at all. I have admired you from the first day we met, and I admire you even more now.” Her breath in his ear sent shivers down his spine. She gazed at him with warm eyes. It was everything he needed to know.

“Was there a reason you removed some of the pages?” she asked quietly.

Dare frowned. “Removed pages?”

“I was reading along in your log and was just getting to an exciting part when I came to a section where a page was missing. I thought perhaps they contained scenes too bloody to have me read,” she whispered with a smile, putting her hand on his arm.

Dare took his logbook and flipped through the pages. “No, I have not removed anything. Though…” He paused, belatedly realizing that some of his adventures were not of the sort a lady ought to read. “Perhaps you should not have been reading the log.”

“Oh pish! I love a good adventure. And I have enjoyed getting to know more of your life.”

Dare flipped through his log, trying to find what pages she thought were missing. Much to his surprise, he found a page had been cut from his log. Only one was missing, and it was done carefully, so unless you were reading through the log, it would be difficult to notice. Who had cut the page? And why?

“What did the page contain?” she whispered, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“Nothing of consequence.” He flipped back and forth to remember. “We had been asked to deliver some messages for the Crown to the governor at Madeira.”

“Madeira?”

“Small island off Morocco. Has an English governor. We anchored off the shore and rowed in but got lost in heavy fog. When we got closer, I realized we had rowed into Ilhas Desertas, a rocky island next to Madeira. Took us a while, but eventually we made the delivery.”

“Was there anything important about the messages?”

“It was wartime correspondence, but most likely routine.”

A little crease appeared between Emma’s eyebrows. She was adorable when she was thinking hard. Of course, to his mind, she was always adorable.

“Did anything of import happen around that time?”

“Soon after I took a French privateer. Large prize.” He flipped through the log. “Strange, but the only page taken was the day before we took the Jade.”

Emma chewed on the corner of her plump lower lip and Dare had to struggle to attend to anything other than his desire to kiss her. “Did anything interesting or unusual happen when you got lost?”

Dare shrugged. “Found a submerged gig. It was washed into a sea cave cut into the cliff. It was low tide, and a bit of the bow was visible, so one of the men was able to remove the name. It was the Merc. At least that was all that was left.”

“The Merc? What an odd name. Unless it had lost a y and was originally the Mercy.”

“We were in Spanish waters so that would be…” Dare stood up with a sudden epiphany. “Mercedes!”

This time, it was Emma who reminded him to remain quiet. “Mercedes?” she mouthed.

“Mercedes was one of the ships carrying a large payment to France before war broke out between us and Spain,” he explained in a hurried hush.

“Oh, I remember it in the papers. It was one of the treasure ships that Commodore Moore fired on, which led to the destruction of one ship and the capture of the three others.”

Dare was impressed at her knowledge of the war campaign. “Yes. You are familiar with it?” he whispered as he sat back down beside her.

Emma shrugged. “I do read more than the society columns. But that was seven years ago. Were you there?”

“No, I was at university at the time. The declaration of war on Spain brought me back to the navy and I served in the battle of Trafalgar.”

Emma beamed at him and he sat a little taller.

“You think the boat you found could be from the Mercedes?” she whispered.

“Perhaps. The magazine of the Mercedes exploded, destroying the ship. I imagine the gig could have been blown free and drifted a ways to be found where we located it.”

“Why would anyone want to know the location of the Mercedes gig?”

Dare shrugged. “Shortly after we found the gig, we took the Jade and everyone forgot about it.”

“Do you still have the piece of wood you found?” asked Emma. “Maybe we should inspect it.”

Dare gave a nod, appreciating her determination to solve the mystery. He paused for a moment to remember where it had gone. “Last I saw, it was on deck after we captured the Jade. Brought the French captain and his officers aboard as we unloaded the ship. He was none too pleased. He picked up the piece of wood and dropped it again.”

“So if there was something important about it, that French captain would have known it. Who was this captain?”

“He gave the name Capitaine Desos.”

“Des os? Like French for ‘the bones’?”

Dare stared at Emma and said nothing, the light dawning suddenly and brilliantly. “Damn, I’ve been a fool. It must be him!”

“Him? Who?” Emma blinked at his sudden proclamation.

“Silas Bones!”

“Oh!” said Emma a little too loudly and clapped a hand over her mouth. “So you think you actually captured Harcourt on the Jade?”

“No, the captain I met was too young to be Harcourt, but remember Mrs. Hennings said Harcourt had a son. In Portsmouth, I heard of a Silas Bones seen in the company of men who fit the description of those who attacked us. I wager Silas Bones and Captain Desos are one and the same.”

Emma’s eyes shone with excitement. “So you captured treasure from Harcourt’s son. Little wonder he came after you again.”

“They must have wanted their money back. Probably why they tried to kidnap Kate.”

“So you think Harcourt was sailing with his son?”

“Not on board the same ship, but perhaps close. I was searching for Esqueleto at the time I found Harcourt’s son.”

“Esqueleto?”

“A notorious pirate.”

“Does that not mean ‘skeleton’ in Spanish?” Emma tilted her head a bit to the side. “That is almost like ‘bones.’”

Dare slammed his hand down on the table, startling Emma into hushing him. “Esqueleto must be Harcourt!” He jumped back to his feet.

“You found him!” Emma rose next to him and held her arms open in excitement. He took the invitation and pulled her to him, her body melting into his.

“So why would Harcourt want to steal your log pages?” she asked, her cheek resting on his chest.

Dare stepped back slightly, instantly missing the sensation of her in his arms. “Harcourt’s son must have told him of seeing the plank and knew the location of the gig would be noted in my log.”

“But what could he want with the gig from the Mercedes?”

“I do not know, but at least now I know where he’s going!”