Chapter 10

Through extreme willpower, which was constantly tested on board what seemed to be his shrinking ship—even a seventy-four-gun ship was too small to escape her—Alex managed to avoid Hestia over the following days. Her flowery orange blossom scent warned him of her close proximity. Whenever the scent wafted on the air, it gave him ample time to make himself scarce.

Over the last few nights he’d had little sleep, and what sleep he got was filled with visions of her soft, naked, and pliant body begging him to give her pleasure, but just as he reached for her, she’d laugh and run away.

Of all the bad luck, yesterday he’d accidentally walked in on her bathing in the tub room. He had not expected her to be up so early, the sun had just risen, and he’d come off the night watch.

She’d been standing naked in the middle of the tub reaching for a small towel on the stool nearby. Her skin shone in the sunlight coming through the porthole. He quickly closed the door before she knew he was there.

Why had he not knocked?

Because he was busy planning how to kill Murad.

Tonight, that one glimpse of perfection had his body at fever pitch. For the past few years a fully clothed Hestia had lingered in his waking thoughts, while an imaginary sensual Hestia had sometimes shared his dreams. Gowned she was enough to drive a man to distraction, but now he’d seen her stripped bare—his vivid and overactive imagination from lack of feminine company, burst into life. He could almost feel her heavenly body under his lips and hands. He’d wanted to touch her soft silken skin and enter her womanly heat—she was infinitely more arousing than anything he’d imagined.

Sleep was now torture. He’d had to take himself in hand, literally, something he hadn’t done since he’d been a young schoolboy. His fingers itched like stinging nettle to use the laudanum he had tucked away in his trunk. He wanted to succumb to its mind-dulling effects, and he hadn’t felt such a powerful pull in over four years. Not since he’d saved Hestia.

Her continual presence was enough to push him over the edge; the urge to take something to send him into restful dreamland was growing day by day.

So most nights he did more than his fair share of manning the helm. The hours passed slowly while he did his best not to think about the vibrant woman below deck, letting the cold night air cool his heated body.

Not long before dawn, after one such long wearisome night, as his crew began stirring, Jacob arrived at his side with a mug of steaming tea.

“You need this, and you need some sleep. You’ll wear yourself out. We have plenty of men to take over the helm at night. Go below deck and get some sleep.” With a raised eyebrow he added, “I don’t want you doing something stupid.”

Alex’s temper flared. “It’s my ship, I’ll do what I like, when I like.”

He heard Jacob’s impatient sigh.

“That woman’s got you wound tighter than an old lady’s ball of yarn. Let alone your focus on Murad. You’re worse than a man who’s been in prison ten years with no female company, if you know what I mean. Always told you women on ships were a mistake. She’s definitely leading us into trouble.”

Alex’s tired body became instantly alert. “Tell me.”

“There’s a sloop that’s been tracking us.”

“Why didn’t you inform me before?”

Jacob shook his head. “I wasn’t sure before, but I changed our course a couple of times and she’s followed. She never gets closer, just keeps her distance; the ship’s definitely tacking with us.”

Jacob handed Alex the spyglass he’d been holding. “She’s on the port aft.”

Alex raised the spyglass in the direction and squinted. It was a sloop all right, so no immediate danger to Angelica, which could blow her out of the water.

Alex’s weary brain tried to make sense of it. Why would anyone send a sloop after a ship this size?

“She has no markings I recognize. There’s only one reason a sloop would be following us. They want to keep an eye on you and the girl, tracking what you are up to. Alex, what’s so important about this girl’s father?”

Alex’s blood curdled—Fredrick. It had to be. He was the only one who benefited if Alex didn’t find the earl. Perhaps the ship was meant to delay, or worse, hinder him? But why a sloop? It had speed over the Angelica, but only in a short sprint. His ship being bigger and heavier would take time to tack and get up to speed, but there was no way the smaller ship could outrun her on the open ocean. And his cannons could blow the sloop to pieces.

Ignoring Jacob’s question, Alex said, “We should be in Mallorca sometime tomorrow. We shall see if the sloop weighs anchor too. If so, we’ll do some investigating.”

“A sloop’s built for quick short bursts. If it’s up to mischief, it’s unlikely to engage us until we’re around the Greek islands. It could lose us fairly quickly and hide anywhere in the many islands surrounding Corfu, for instance.”

Through clenched teeth Alex said, “At least they won’t have the element of surprise. Nice work, my friend.”

“I’ll put the men on alert. There’s no way they can attack our ship, so I’m supposing they’ll wait until we go ashore. I suggest Lady Hestia remain on the ship when at port. With an armed guard.”

Alex’s gut tightened at the thought Hestia could be in danger. “I had promised her she could go ashore.” But he wouldn’t put anything past Fredrick, considering his previous threat to carry her off. Alex breathed a sigh of relief. If it was Fredrick, he’d greatly underestimated himself sending a sloop after a ship as powerful as Angelica. He could blow it out of the water.

“Now go to your cabin and get some sleep. We need you fighting fit.” With that Jacob took the helm and Alex headed below determined to if not sleep, at least rest. Hopefully this new threat would take his mind off Hestia and the relief her body could give him.

Deep in worry, neither Jacob nor Alex had any inkling their conversation was being closely followed.

Connor watched Alex stride off to go to his cabin or to his fancy stateroom. Having overheard the two men’s conversation, Connor was relieved. They’d not guessed Fredrick’s plan even though they’d spotted the sloop.

With an evil glint in his eye, Connor slipped into darkness; he had a plan of his own. Fredrick Cary wanted Hestia abducted, but she was to remain unhurt and untouched.

He licked his lips. How stupid was Cary? Connor’s body burned hot for the golden-haired beauty, ever since she’d stood up to him that day on the poop deck. By God he’d have her too. He’d have her screaming with pleasure; she’d be well used by the time he’d finished with her. He’d never had a well-bred lady before. His body felt like it was on fire whenever he smelled her perfumed scent. She was so fresh and virginal. His cock throbbed between his legs. He’d never had a virgin either. His head filled with images of what he’d do to her, how he’d teach her what a real man was, not some strutting peacock of a duke.

Then, and only then, would he hand her to Cary. The woman would never tell anyone what he’d done to her, for she’d be too ashamed. It would ruin her. By the time his lordship realized she’d been soiled, Connor O’Laughlin would be long gone.

Killing His Grace would pose a bigger problem. He never seemed to be on his own. He decided he’d have to strike once Bedford was on shore. Connor knew Bedford’s appetites for sinful pleasures; once a rake always a rake. Connor’s plan hinged on Bedford wanting a woman as soon as his feet hit land. What man wouldn’t want to sink between soft, plump thighs after being around Lady Hestia for days? She had men fit to burst, and he knew Bedford was no different. That’s why his lordship spent all night at the helm.

Yes, Bedford would head straight for a woman. Bedford would be dead before he could get his cock out of his breeches. And the conversation he’d just overheard was exactly what they wanted to happen. It was Connor’s plan all along to get her confined to the ship. They didn’t want her on shore.

Connor stroked himself. He’d turn the tables on the teasing slut. He’d have her begging for it. Very soon he’d be driving her wild. He halted his hand; now was not the time to relieve himself, he’d save it all for her. His anger mounted with his frustration, and he turned; he had to find Patrick and go over their plan.