Authors: Barbara Devlin

Tags: #Historical Romance, #Regency Romance, #Regency England, #Romance, #Britain, #Military

Captain Of Her Heart (38 page)

Given the interloper’s small frame, Dalton guessed the criminal could not have been more than a lad. As the
Siren’s
stores contained plenty of supplies, and hunger persisted during times of war, he abided the bit of mischief, in the spirit of generosity.

The plunderer bent to pilfer a tin of tea, and his breeches stretched taut over his backside. To Dalton’s amazement, he realized the villain was a woman, as he would know the telltale shapely, feminine derriere from a distance of fifty paces. Judging from the silhouette, the mystery lady had been blessed with a prime figure, which he ached to know on a more intimate level.

“You know, there are easier ways to earn a bit of coin and food, my dear.” He emerged from his hiding place. “Take off your hood, and let me gaze upon the rest of you. If I like what I see, we may broker a deal.”

The infinitely interesting prey shrieked and cringed. Then she edged toward the companion ladder, but he beat her to it.

“Come now, dove. There is no need to fear me, as we might strike a bargain, which benefits us, both.” Now he noted her ample bosom, as his soon-to-be bunkmate faced him. Fascinated, he longed to assess her complexion, as he splayed his arms wide. “And if you apply yourself, in earnest, and please me, I shall bestow upon you a handsome reward, and you need never burgle passing ships, again, as it is dangerous business.”

When he moved in her direction, she emitted the softest whimper and retreated. Clutching the bag to her chest, she skittered to the left and sheltered behind a few crates of vegetables. His quarry was fast, but Dalton was faster. As he closed the distance between them, she leaped atop a heap of sacks, containing rice and dried beans.

The thrill of the chase burned in his loins and piqued the pirate in his pants, which had suffered serious neglect, in recent months. Given the importuning antics of his latest paramour, the well-used Lady Moreton, whose harbor had seen more action than Deptford, he sported for a new conquest, and it appeared she had found him, to his credit.

In the soft lamplight, he discovered the purest blue eyes he had ever glimpsed, peeking from the mask, and a lush mouth with lips as red as a pomegranate, and he had to have her. But the captivating swindler remained mute and refused to cooperate, as she evaded his spontaneous lunge. While his grand maneuver granted him nothing more than a close inspection of the wood grain on the deck, she availed herself of the opportunity to sprint to the companion ladder, and he shot to his feet and pursued what he vowed would be his future courtesan.

At the waist, she collided with one of her cohorts, just as shouts of alarm signaled the first mate and the cook, who wielded a large frying pan, as they chased the third conspirator.

“Come back here, you rascal.” Mr. Allen bounded onto the deck, with a pistol aimed at the tallest of the boarders. “You there, hold hard.”

“As you were, Mr. Allen.” Dalton stayed the first mate. “There is no need for violence, given the lady and I have just entered negotiations. What say you, pretty britches? I shall let your friends go free, if you agree to spend the night with me.”

For a few seconds, the odd trio shuffled their feet and exchanged wary glances. Then the two heartier thieves drew the woman to the rear and shook their heads.

“More’s the pity.” Dalton chuckled. “As you leave me no option but to summon the watch and have you arrested.”

The female flinched, and he could smell her fear. Together, the clumsy band of vagabonds inched closer to the rail. When the woman peered over the side, he guessed her intent.

“Steady, love. Do not attempt something you might later regret, as we are all friends, here.” With palms upraised in implied surrender, Dalton glanced at the first mate. “Mr. Allen, lower the weapon.”

“They are the worst sorts of blackguards, sir.” The first mate vented a snort of disgust. “And I would teach them a lesson—”

“Lower the bloody weapon. That is an order.” Dalton took two tentative steps forward. “Easy, love. Remain calm, as I will not hurt you.”

Just then, one of the bandits untied and kicked over an empty rain barrel, which had been lashed to the side, and sent it tumbling in Dalton’s direction. In a panic, the first mate discharged the pistol, and the female screamed.

“Stand down, Mr. Allen.” Dalton cursed under his breath, as two of the thieves jumped the railing. After unleashing a second barrel, the last of the criminals escaped.

“Hell and the Reaper.” The cook blanched and scratched his chin. “I presumed you were joking, but they had a woman in their midst.”

“Sorry, Cap’n.” The first mate tucked the firearm in his waistband. “Had I known of the lady, I would not have fired.”

“No worries, as their theft consisted of nothing more than food from our stores, and I do not believe you hit anyone.” Standing a-larboard, Dalton smiled, as the brazen crooks eluded capture via a small rowboat. Then a scrap of red caught his attention. The velvet pouch, which he bent to retrieve, had protected a valuable artifact, but now it sat empty. “Did our uninvited guests invade my cabin?”

“Aye, sir.” Mr. Allen nodded. “That is when I rousted the villains.”

In that instant, Dalton frowned. “Then the nameless scoundrels are not harmless, and their cause is not so noble, as I had thought, given they have taken something invaluable to my family, so we shall meet again.”

“But how will we find them, sir?” The cook hugged his cast-iron skillet. “As they have disappeared around the bend.”

“Fret not, old friend.” Dalton lowered his chin and flipped his familiar coin, which landed, however apropos, on tails. “They don’t call me the Lucky One, for nothing.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Bestselling author Barbara Devlin was born a storyteller. A Texan, through and through, Barbara hasn't been without a book in her possession since she was in kindergarten. She wrote her first short story, a really cheesy murder-mystery, in high school, but it was a Christmas gift, a lovely little diary with a bronze lock, given to her in the fifth grade that truly inspired her love for writing.

After completing part of her undergraduate studies at the University of London, where she developed a love of all things British, Barbara returned home and began a career in banking. But the late 80s weren't too promising for the financial industry, and every bank that hired Barbara soon folded. So she searched for a stable occupation, and the local police department offered the answer to her prayers.

Initially, Barbara wasn't too sure about her new career in law enforcement, but she soon came to love being a police officer. And then one uncharacteristically cold and icy day in December 1998, Barbara was struck by a car and pinned against a guardrail while working an accident on a major highway. Permanently disabled, she retired from the police department and devoted her time and energy to physical therapy.

Once Barbara got back on her feet, she focused on a new career in academia. She earned an MA in English and continued a course of study for a Doctorate in Literature and Rhetoric. She happily considered herself an exceedingly eccentric English professor, until success in Indie publishing lured her into writing, full-time, featuring her fictional knighthood, the Brethren of the Coast.

To connect with Barbara Devlin, go to barbaradevlin.com, for links to Facebook and Twitter, as well as her monthly newsletter, The Knightly News. Sign up for the chance to win a $20 Amazon gift card, and enjoy the latest sneak peeks, exclusive details, interesting information on life in Georgian England, and much more.