The Duke and the Pirate Queen. Victoria JanssenЧитать онлайн книгу.
he heard the grunting of pigs, chickens gabbling, a goat’s bleat and the plaintive lowing of a milk cow.
Being ignored was more frustrating than he could have imagined. He paced the narrow room, faster and faster. He was no longer in the mood for sexual games or sex, unless it was the quick-and-hard kind. What was she doing? Testing him?
If she kept him out here too long, he’d miss the king’s next envoy. And what of all the business that would await him this morning?
He might not want to deal with any of that, but he wanted it to be his choice if he did not.
After pacing off the worst of his anger, he put his back to the bulkhead and slid to the deck. It was too bad he didn’t have those legal texts with him; if he missed the envoy, he would need all the references he could get to keep in Julien’s good graces. But he had nothing in here, not even a treatise on sailing. He would just have to wait until someone came to his door. Then he’d beat Imena at her own game.
But first, he was going to put on some trousers.
“Captain!” Chetri called. “Sail approaching.”
Imena, who’d been about to go below and speak to Maxime, cursed. “Norris, take the spyglass and see if you can identify it.”
“Aye, Captain.” She scampered up the rigging, barely touching the ropes with her feet.
Chetri said, for her ears alone, “Looks like one of the king’s cutters.”
“Fuck him with a bowsprit,” she said. “I don’t think it’s a courtesy visit.”
“Do you think they’d take His Grace by force?”
Imena took a deep breath and concentrated on the clean salty breeze that brushed her face and scalp. As always, sea air calmed her. She was in command here, not just of the ship, but of herself. “The duchess Camille told me that King Julien is a reasonable man, but I don’t know what her definition of reasonable might be, after she lived with that insane husband of hers for so many years, while he wreaked havoc on the duchy.” She added, “I would have thought a reasonable king would have removed the man from power himself, not left it to Camille to take care of.”
“Who knows how royalty thinks?” Chetri asked. “Her Grace Camille seems a woman of good judgment in many ways, so perhaps she’s right about her king.”
“I believe she trusts him, but … whether this cutter is the king’s doing, or that of the men I heard at the Squid, or just coincidence, I can’t take the risk.”
“There won’t be any accidents on Seaflower,” Chetri said. He touched the long knife at his side.
“It’s best if they’re not allowed to board.”
Norris slid down the ropes and landed almost at Imena’s feet. “A royal cutter,” she said. “No signals flying.”
Chetri said, “They’ll have seen us by now, and it’s no secret you’re His Grace’s captain.”
Flee or bluff? Fleeing was more suspicious. The fewer suspicions about Maxime’s whereabouts, the safer he would be.
“We let them approach, and we bluff,” she said. “On no account does anyone from that cutter go below.”
“Captain,” Norris said. “I could stow His Grace more safely.”
“Where?” Imena asked. “No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to betray his hiding place. Very well, Norris. Do it now, then hop back up top as quickly as you can.”
Maxime waited impatiently as someone fussed with the chain and padlock on his door. When the door was flung open, he was startled to see Norris, Imena’s cabin girl. “What’s going on?” he demanded.
“This way,” she said. When he didn’t move, she hesitantly reached out and grabbed his wrist.
“Where are we going?”
“I have orders to hurry.”
“Whose? Captain Leung’s? I pay her salary, you know. And that means I also pay yours, Norris.”
She heaved at his arm, but he braced his weight and didn’t budge. He said, “There’s no real rush, is there? Given that she left me here for half the night.”
“Please, Your Grace.” Norris released his wrist.
Maxime didn’t think Imena would blame Norris for his lack of cooperation, but the girl seemed distressed, so he sighed and said, “All right.”
He regretted acquiescing when he saw the narrow deck cubby into which he was expected to squeeze himself. “Is this your cabin?” he asked. Little more than the size of a small wardrobe, the enclosed space held only a hammock and a large trunk. “Have you been smuggling? Does the captain know? Of course she must—”
“Just climb in!” Norris struggled with the weight of the trapdoor as she wrestled it to the side.
“Is there air?”
“Enough. It won’t be long, I promise.” Another test? Was Imena testing his sincerity? He was willing to do a great deal more than pretend to be smuggled goods, if he could have her in the end. He managed to cram himself into the cubby, which smelled sweetly but strongly of the valuable balsam resin that had been stored within. Norris yanked the trapdoor over him and hammered it down with the heels of her hands. Maxime was left in warm, perfumed darkness.
Imena did her best to appear bored as the royal cutter’s first officer examined the papers Arionrhod, the purser, had handed over. Chetri stood at her side, chewing mastic, hands clasped behind his back. He looked casual but was ready, she knew, to draw his knife at a moment’s notice. Several of her crew handled inconsequential tasks within easy distance; she’d been careful to order most of the younger sailors to stay below on the lower cargo deck. At the first sign of trouble, the cutter’s first officer and his boat crew would become hostages. If worse came to worst, she might also claim diplomatic immunity; anything to gain time.
She might also accidentally knock the officer down for looking at her as if he’d like to pay for her services. A knife pressed to his genitals might give him more respect for women.
The officer peeled off the second sheet and returned it to her. Imena slid the page into its case. “As you can see, we’re in the employ of the duke Maxime.”
“You were scheduled to remain in port for another week. Why did you depart early? Without a full cargo?”
He wasn’t looking at her face, but at her bosom, despite its being bound into a bodice and concealed beneath a loose shirt. She was careful to show no hint of emotion as she said, “Personal matters.”
“Personal matters that caused you to recall your crew from shore leave and vanish from the docks in the wee hours of the morning?”
“I wanted to catch the tide,” she said blandly. “Are we finished here?”
“I’m curious as to the nature of these personal matters.” He glanced up at her face now, and smiled. He was a young man with bright teeth, symmetrical features and glossy hair. He wouldn’t be used to being refused.
“You will remain curious, then,” she said. “Chetri, will you escort the officer to his boat? I need to speak with Bonnevie.” She turned toward the wheelhouse.
“Oh, come now,” the officer said, looking annoyed. “You could at least offer me a drink.”
Imena frowned. “That’s not required by law.”
The officer’s back stiffened. “I wasn’t aware you particularly cared for laws, Captain Leung.”
“I have no idea what you mean.” She felt Chetri ease closer to her.
“Everyone knows why His Grace hired you. You’re a pirate.”
Chetri’s blade whistled from its