The Irresistible Rogue (Playful Brides #4)(55)

Rafe took the pistol from her. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m not certain I know how to answer it.”

“Have I confused you?” Rafe laughed.

“A bit,” she admitted sheepishly. “I’ve just never been … No one’s ever asked me such a question.”

Rafe concentrated on reloading the pistol again. He shook powder into the muzzle. “That’s a shame.”

Daphne lifted her chin. “It is a shame, isn’t it?”

He looked up at her and nodded.

She lifted her chin. “I do have an answer, though.”

He met her eyes. “What is it?”

“You must promise not to laugh.”

“I would never laugh at you.”

She swallowed and glanced out at the horizon. “I always wanted to be a pirate.”

Rafe’s eyebrow quirked. “A pirate?”

“Yes. A pirate. I read about a lady pirate once. Well, she was more of a privateer, I suppose. I wouldn’t want to actually break the law. But adventures on the high seas, sun, and wind and rain, and … freedom. It always sounded so wonderful to me.”

Rafe shook his head. His brow furrowed. “You surprise me, Grey.”

“Do I?” She rubbed the bottom of her boot along the deck. “You expected me to say something about embroidery or charities?”

“Perhaps.”

“That is mighty boring, Cap’n,” she said in her best Thomas Grey voice, doffing her cap.

“Agreed,” he answered. “For I, too, always longed for adventure.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE




“Tonight’s lesson involves being tied up,” Rafe announced that evening after they’d said good night to the rest of the crew following dinner and retired to the captain’s cabin. He drew a long piece of rope out of the cabinet above the desk.

Daphne swallowed hard. “Pardon me?”

“I thought you wanted to learn how to be a spy,” Rafe replied.

“Oh yes. Yes, I do.” She brushed her hands across her thighs. “And … spies are often … tied up?”

“Upon occasion,” Rafe replied with his infamous wicked grin. “I was tied up in France more often than not.”

Daphne swallowed again and ducked her head. Of course. This was serious and if Rafe had something to teach her about being tied up, she was ready to learn it.

“Of course, sometimes allowing your captors to think you’re tied up is part of your strategy.”

“Did you do that?” she asked tentatively. “In France?”

“Nearly every day. I kept my hands behind my back and the rope around them, but often, I was only seconds away from being free.”

The breath caught in her throat. “What should I do?”

He motioned to the bed with his chin. “Get on the bunk, Grey. I’m going to tie you up.”

A thrill that was a mixture of fear and anticipation shot through her. “Y … yes, Captain.”

She climbed up onto the bunk and sat watching him carefully.

“Lie on your stomach.”

She did as she was told.

“Put your hands behind your back,” he ordered.

She rested both hands, palms up, over her buttocks. Did Rafe swear under his breath?

“This may hurt a bit. I’ll try to be gentle. Of course if the French were doing it, it would hurt like hell. They aren’t careful. On purpose.”

“I understand,” she murmured into the pillow.

He wrapped the length of rope around her wrists. It scraped at the tender skin there but otherwise there was no pain.

“This is the type of knot that’s not easy to get out of,” Rafe said.

“And you’re going to show me how to get out of it?” she breathed.

“Yes,” came his sure voice. “But you’ve already failed your first lesson.”

She turned her head sharply to the side on the pillow. “What? How?”

“The first lesson of being tied up is to ensure your wrists are at an angle when they’re being tied. An astute captor will notice this but you should always try in case you’re dealing with an amateur.”

“What does the angle have to do with it?”

“If your wrists aren’t pressed together, you’ll have a better chance of tugging one free.”

Daphne pressed her cheek against the pillow. “Ah. Are you going to untie me so I can try again?”

He’d leaned over her and she felt more than saw his smile near her cheek. “Not a chance. I’m an astute captor.”

“Are you?” she whispered into the pillow. Was it getting hot in the cabin all of a sudden?

“That’s right.”

She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on the lesson. “What should I do next?”

“What is your instinct, Grey? Being a competent spy is often about instinct.”

“My instinct is to try to pull my wrists free from the rope.”

“The exact wrong thing to do,” he answered matter-of-factly.

Daphne frowned. “Why?”

“Because all you’ll do is chafe them and then they’ll be bloody and sore, which will make it more difficult to escape.”