The Irresistible Rogue (Playful Brides #4)(43)

Rafe maneuvered the mount down the narrow wooden planks of the docks. Daphne remembered the drill. They would tie the mount to a post at the dock where Salty, Rafe’s first mate, would see to it. Rafe quickly dismounted and Daphne tried to ignore the warm feel of Rafe’s hands on her sides as he helped her down from the horse. He had only touched her momentarily, the way he would a cabin boy, certainly not in a way that could be described as sensual, but still, the feel of his skin against hers made her suck in her breath.

She shook her head. She must concentrate on the mission. Nothing but the mission.

“There’s the rowboat.” Rafe pointed to a tiny craft barely bobbing above the waterline.

“And the ship?” Daphne turned and looked out into the darkened waters. Several hulking vessels rested hunched in the brackish water.

“There.” Rafe pointed to the farthest one.

Daphne looked at it. There she was. The True Love. Not a particularly fine vessel or a large one with its crew of only seven, but one that made sense for a small-time captain dealing in a few bits and goods here and there and dabbling in smuggling—the role Rafe was playing for the sake of the Russians and the French spies. The lopsided sloop had seen better days, but she remained sturdy and shipshape. Staring out at the vessel, Daphne swallowed the lump in her throat. The last time she’d left that ship, all her dreams had been dashed against the side of the dock. This time she was no longer the na?ve young girl who’d been here before. She was older, more experienced. And had already had her heart broken. It could never hurt more than the first time.

If she were Lady Daphne Swift, Rafe would have carefully helped her into the small vessel. But as Thomas Grey the cabin boy, Rafe could do nothing but allow her to precede him and then hop in after her. She’d perfected getting in and out of the small boat the last time, however. She needed no help.

She braced her right hand on the right side of the tiny boat, her left hand on the left side, and stepped carefully toward the center, being certain not to rock too much. With a self-satisfied smirk on her face, she lifted her head to Rafe. Was that admiration in his eyes?

“Nicely done,” he murmured under his breath. He maneuvered easily into the boat in front of her and grabbed an oar.

Daphne lifted the other oar. “You don’t have to take care of me, you know.”

“Good, because I won’t have time,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Now, on my count.”

Rafe poised the right oar above the water, Daphne poised the left one, and together they rowed out to the sloop anchored in the harbor.

Rafe had taken off his coat to row. Daphne tried not to look at his muscles outlined in his shirtsleeves by the light of the moon and stars. Instead, she concentrated on keeping her oar strokes on pace with his.

Her mind wandered to their exchange from a few moments ago. “Good, because I won’t have time,” he’d told her. Never let it be said that Captain Cavendish wasn’t blunt when he needed to be. Fine. But she’d meant what she’d said, too. She didn’t need him to take care of her, nor did she expect him to. They were playing a dangerous game now, one in which lives were at stake. Julian had asked Rafe to take care of her and she knew how Rafe truly felt. He thought of her as a child. Someone whose family had taken care of her her whole life, pampered her, treated her like a princess. Softened every blow. Certainly not a useful creature. Certainly not someone who could be of help to him, the man who never needed help from anyone. She knew what he was thinking. She might have successfully climbed into the rowboat on her own, but he didn’t believe for one second that she didn’t need him.

She clutched her hands tighter around the oar and stroked harder, faster. She’d show him.

By the time they came alongside the sloop, Daphne had already begun to break a sweat and was breathing heavily. Rafe, however, who’d matched her stroke for stroke, appeared completely unaffected. He’d even started whistling. He grabbed the rope that hung from the side of the ship and secured the small boat alongside it. Then, he nodded to Daphne to climb up first. There might not be any handholding or help, but he was allowing her to go first in case she should slip. She knew that.

She took a deep breath and jumped up to catch the bottom of the rickety wooden ladder that hung haphazardly from the side of the ship. It had always been a bit too high for her. But height challenges be damned. She grabbed it on the first try and smiled a bit to herself. She still could do it. She wiggled up the ladder as quickly as possible and vaulted onto the deck, where she landed with her booted feet braced apart. She sucked in a deep draught of sea air. Ah, she remembered that smell. She’d never forget it. Nor would she forget the feeling of being so free on the ship. Wearing breeches was absolutely delightful. It felt so delicious, as if she could do anything. Run. Jump. No inconvenient skirts to trip her. It was liberating. It was intoxicating. It was adventurous. Just like Calliope Cauldwell.

Daphne braced her hands on her hips and stared across the wide wooden deck, taking in the sights and sounds. It took a moment for her sea legs to come back under her. The gentle rhythm of the waving and swaying of the wood had a cadence all its own. There was an art to it, a craft to being able to keep one’s balance on the deck of a ship. She’d mastered it once before. After a few moments, it was as if she’d never left.

Her eyes scanned the deck. The other men were there. The crew. She’d met them all before. They were also spies. She knew them only by their false names and they knew her only as Grey. In addition to Salty, the first mate, there was Grim, the second mate, Holby, the bosun, Greggs and Peterby, the deckhands, and Cook, who was approximately forty years of age with dark, kind eyes and dark curly hair. She didn’t see Salty. Perhaps he was still ashore. Salty was the opposite of his name, surprisingly young and handsome. In fact, with his light hair and blue eyes, he looked a bit like Rafe. Not half so domineering, however.