Wicked Intentions (Maiden Lane #1)(58)

Except Silence knew she couldn’t fall into that trap. No matter what his smile said, this man was no innocent.

“Stole is such an ugly word, I find,” Charming Mickey drawled. His Irish brogue made the words almost a caress. “I must warn you, Mistress Hollingbrook, that I don’t let many utter it in me presence.”

Silence bit back the urge to apologize. This man’s actions had imperiled her husband.

Mickey cocked his head, a long silky curl of ebony hair sliding across his shoulder. “What might you be wantin’ from me, darlin’?”

She lifted her chin. “I want you to return the cargo.”

Mickey blinked as if bemused. “An’ why on earth would I do such a foolish thing?”

Her heart was beating so loudly she feared he must hear it, but she said steadily, “Because returning the cargo is the right thing to do. The Christian thing to do. If you don’t, my husband will be sent to prison.”

Mickey raised one black eyebrow, looking quite satanic. “Does your husband know you’re here, luv?”

Silence bit her lip. “No.”

“Ah.” He beckoned the sweetmeats boy over again and selected another.

Silence began to open her mouth, but Harry nudged her, so she took his warning and shut it again.

Mickey ate the sweet slowly while those in the throne room waited. Silence noticed that a black marble statue of some Roman goddess stood slightly behind him. She wore a tiara, and long strands of pearls were draped over her naked bosom.

“Well, this is the way of it, luv,” Mickey said so suddenly that Silence jumped. He smiled that innocent smile again. “The owner of the ship your husband captains and I have had a bit of a falling out, see. He thinks it well and good to not be payin’ me my proper tithe from his cargos, and I… well, I can’t agree with that tack. Shows a lack of respect, in me own humble opinion. So I’ve taken the liberty of confiscatin’ the Finch’s cargo, sort of to get the man’s attention, like. You might call it a drastic move, and I’d have to agree, but there it is, all the same. The man made his bed and now he must lay upon it.”

And Charming Mickey shrugged gracefully as if to say the matter was out of his hands.

That was it, then. Her audience was at an end. Harry had laid his hand on her arm to lead her away, and Charming Mickey was already tilting his head to hear something the thin little man was whispering to him. But she couldn’t give up. She had to at least try one more time. For William.

Silence took a deep breath, and even as she did so, she felt Harry’s hand tighten on her arm in warning. “Please, Mr. O’Connor. You have said yourself that your grievance is with the ship’s owner, not my husband. Can you not return the cargo for his sake? For my sake?”

Mickey slowly turned his head to look at her, no longer smiling now. His dark eyes were oddly dispassionate, and without his smile, his lips had a cruel edge. “’Ware, darlin’. I’ve let you play about me claws once and run away unharmed. If you skip back into them again, you’ll have naught to blame but yourself.”

Silence swallowed. His whispered warning made the hairs rise on the back of her neck, and for the first time she realized that she was truly in mortal danger. She wanted nothing more than to turn tail and run.

But she didn’t. “Please. I beg of you. If you will not do it for my husband’s sake or mine, then do it for yours. For the sake of your immortal soul. Do me this favor and I promise you, you will never regret it.”

Charming Mickey stared at her, cold, remote, and expressionless. The room was so silent that each breath Silence took sounded in her ears. Beside her, Harry seemed to have stopped breathing altogether.

Then Mickey slowly smiled. “You must love him very much, this Captain Hollingbrook, this wonderful husband of yours.”

“Yes,” Silence said with pride. “Yes, I do.”

“And does he love you in return, me darlin’?”

Silence’s eyes widened in surprise. “Of course.”

“Ah,” Charming Mickey murmured, “then there might be another way for us to work this matter out to our mutual benefit, yours and mine.”

Beside her, Harry stiffened.

She knew. She knew that whatever Charming Mickey proposed, it would be very bad. She knew that she might not escape this room, this wild, gorgeous house, with her soul entirely intact.

“That is, of course,” Mickey murmured like the devil himself, “if you truly love your husband.”

William was everything in the world to her. There was nothing she would not do to save him.

Silence looked the devil in the eye and lifted her chin. “I do.”

Chapter Eleven

Meg spent the rest of the day contentedly washing her person so that when she went to sleep that evening, she felt considerably neater. The next morning she was brought before King Lockedheart. He looked a bit surprised when he saw her—perhaps he did not recognize her without her layer of soot?—but his habitual scowl soon returned. In front of him stood a great company of courtiers, clad in rich furs, velvet, and jewels.

He asked the assembled dignitaries, “Do you love me?”

Well, the courtiers did not speak in one voice as the trained guards had the day before, but their answers were the same: yes!

The king sneered at Meg. “There! Confess now your foolishness.”…