The Irresistible Rogue (Playful Brides #4)(44)

Daphne liked the entire crew. They might be a small operation but they were a large enough group to man the True Love. In her free time, Daphne liked to let her imagination run wild as to the real identities of the crewmates. Of course, she had no idea what the men did when they weren’t on this ship. A few of them had been chosen for their deep tans and weathered faces. Men who spent their lives at sea must look the part. But they were in service to the Crown. Salty and Grim knew her true identity. The rest did not. For her part, she had no idea if Salty and Grim were in the military and, if so, what their rank was. For all she knew, she was standing next to important officers. But it was truly more fun this way. They all had their secrets.

“Tommy,” called Grim, who was about thirty and handsome with brown eyes and brown hair, a medium build, and a quick smile. He came marching over and clapped Daphne on the back. She grinned at him. “Ah, lad, you look far too clean to be on the True.” He swiped his thumb down her cheek and Daphne had no doubt that a streak of grit remained.

“Thanks for that, Grim,” she said, still grinning.

Rafe was behind her then and after he’d greeted everyone, he led Daphne down toward the stern, into the companionway, and down a small flight of stairs that led to the captain’s cabin.

“I would have liked to have stayed out there longer and talked to everyone,” Daphne said, as soon as the door to the cabin shut behind them.

“It’s not a good idea. One or two of those men haven’t been officially on leave for months. And you’re looking particularly…”—he cleared his throat—“good in those breeches.”

Daphne gaped at him. Then, she turned toward the wall to hide her little smile. “Don’t tell me you think my honor is at risk with the crew of the True Love.”

“No, not your honor; I’d slice off a man’s hand for touching you. It’s my honor that’s at stake. I’d hate to have to explain to Wellington why one of his most trusted spies is handless.”

Daphne’s eyes rounded. “You wouldn’t truly do that, would you? Slice off their hands?”

Rafe lowered his voice. “On this ship, we are a real crew. I would do that and more.”

Daphne swallowed. This was real. All of it. Adventurous, yes. Fun, perhaps. But quite real. Donald had lost his life dealing with the same men they were soon to deal with. Rafe had come close to death. This was all quite, quite real.

She nodded solemnly. “What’s the plan? Will the smugglers be here tonight?”

“They’ve anchored out tonight. That’s why the True Love is already here. We wanted them to see us when they came in. We’ve yet to spot the men themselves, but tomorrow we’ll go ashore and I’ll look for them.”

Daphne nodded again. She glanced around the sparse room. “What about the sleeping arrangements?” She gulped, barely able to push the words past her dry lips. “Same as before?” She turned to make her way next door to the tiny closet-sized room where Rafe had made her a small but tidy bunk last time.

“No.” The word sliced through the air. “We must sleep in here together. I can’t risk letting you out of my sight. I promised your brother.”

Daphne froze, her hand midway inside her bag. Sleeping in the same room with Rafe? That certainly wouldn’t help matters much. She’d already been thinking about his shoulders and his muscles and … She turned in a circle, her eyes wide. There was only one bed in the captain’s cabin. “But where—”

“Don’t worry.” His irresistibly wicked grin returned. He crossed over to the cupboard, opened it, and pulled out a mash of wooden sticks and a crisscross of fabric. “I’ll take the hammock.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX




Daphne slept fitfully. She dreamt of spies, and smugglers, and torture, and murderers. She dreamt of being swallowed up by a giant sea creature. And then, after all the bad dreams fell away, she dreamt of being tangled in the hammock with Rafe, and that was perhaps the most disturbing dream of all. She was wrapped up as if in a cocoon in the captain’s bunk, tossing and turning, sweating in the breezeless room while Rafe appeared to be contentedly sleeping, swinging with the sway of the ship, hoisted up in his hammock between the two wooden posts in the cabin.

He was completely unaffected by her presence, she thought with some chagrin as she pushed at her flat pillow in an attempt to make it more comfortable. She’d forgotten about the awful little pillows on ships. Rafe had explained to her last time that most of the crew didn’t even have a pillow and she should stop behaving like a princess if the pillow wasn’t good enough for her. She frowned into the darkness. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again. Nothing. Nothing would be too uncomfortable that would make her complain. Not even her bound breasts that were far from comfortable. The moonlight that shone through the small window at the far end of the room provided the only light. It fell across Rafe’s high cheekbone. The man was beautiful. It was really too unfair. His dark eyelashes brushed his cheeks as he calmly swung to and fro. He was snoring slightly but even that wasn’t annoying. Donald used to snore so loudly he’d nearly wake the entire house, but Rafe’s snores were barely discernible. That was what was annoying. The man was nearly perfect, like an angel come to life.

She stared up at the dark wooden ceiling. She needed to stop having such petty thoughts. Their mission was much more important than all of that. Even what had transpired between them last time. Even the blond doxy.