The Irresistible Rogue (Playful Brides #4)(63)

“Yes, I watched their rowboat go.” He closed the door behind him.

“Thank heavens.” She gave a shaky laugh. “That was … close.”

Rafe raked a hand through his hair and gave an equally shaky laugh. “An understatement, to be sure.”

“I heard what they said.”

Rafe cocked his head to the side. “And?”

“They’re suspicious, but they do intend to bring you the letters. At least they said they do.”

“Traitors have no loyalties, to anyone. Even their supposed cohorts,” Rafe said.

“That’s good for us, though.”

“You’re right,” Rafe replied. “They were impressed with the hold. They told me they’d see me tomorrow night at the tavern again. We must meet them. They’re bringing the letters. This is it.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE




Daphne awoke with a splitting headache and a bundle of nerves in her belly. She hadn’t slept well. What had happened with Rafe last night kept replaying itself over and over in her mind. The bedsheets still smelled like him. Maddening, that. She snuggled into them and breathed deeply.

His speech had sounded heartfelt and sincere when they’d been drinking, but that was the problem with drinking, wasn’t it? It confused things. Gave you a fuzzy head. Hadn’t he said as much himself?

The truly frightening part was she’d nearly given herself to him last night. She had no doubt if they hadn’t been interrupted, she would no longer be a maiden. Rafe had apparently been so overcome that he was willing to defy Julian’s edict and put himself in danger just to have her. But a night of passion wouldn’t change the fact that he couldn’t be trusted and they weren’t suitable for one another. Yet another reason not to drink.

Daphne spent the day practicing with her knife, and by the time they loaded into the rowboat to go ashore, she had firmed her resolve in two quarters. She wasn’t about to let alcohol touch her lips again when she was anywhere near Rafe Cavendish, and she was not—was not—going to kiss him again. Ever.

The ride to shore was mostly silent. In fact they’d barely spoken to each other all day. It was more of an awkward silence than anything else. They both seemed hyperaware of the enormity of the mistake they’d come so close to making last night.

They were in the rowboat alone but the rest of the crew had already come to shore. The men of the True Love were on alert tonight. They would blend into the crowd in and around the tavern to keep an eye on things.

Daphne breathed deep. The docks stank but she couldn’t help but feel a certain exhilaration. This was the type of moment she’d never have sipping tea in drawing rooms, painting with watercolors, playing whist with the other ladies of the ton. She pulled the oar with all her might, matching Rafe’s strokes.

As soon as the rowboat hit the dock, Daphne made to leap from the vessel, but Rafe’s hand on her arm stopped her. “Be careful,” he whispered.

Daphne nodded. She took her favorite knife out of her back pocket and slipped it into her boot.





CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX




Rafe glanced around the tavern. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Something seemed off tonight. Wrong. Daphne had assured him that all Anton and Viktor had said in their native tongue while they’d been on the True Love was that they had their suspicions. They’d further indicated that everything seemed legitimate before they left. The War Office team had done their research as far as the ship went. The two Russians might have believed that an unannounced visit to the ship would have revealed something, but other than nearly revealing him and Daphne in a state of undress, there was nothing suspicious about the contents of the sloop.

Daphne. Rafe didn’t have time to think about the mistake they’d nearly made last night.

The Russians were nowhere to be seen. Rafe made his way across the large space to the same table where he’d sat the last time they were here. Daphne followed on his heels. The same barmaid approached and Rafe ordered two mugs of ale as usual.

“It’s good ta see ya again, guv,” the barmaid said, laughing, causing Daphne to pull her cap down and cross her arms tightly over her chest. The barmaid soon left to get their drinks and Daphne took her same place at the next table. She didn’t lean back on the chair legs tonight. She seemed tense, alert. Just like Rafe was.

“There,” Rafe breathed, as soon as the two men entered the tavern.

Daphne glanced up and her eyes flared. She quickly looked off into the crowd as if she hadn’t even noticed.

Anton and Viktor came ambling toward them. They sat backward in their seats again.

“Good to see you again so soon,” Viktor said with a laugh. He spat tobacco juice on the dirt floor. Rafe could only imagine Daphne’s internal reaction to that nastiness. But she was doing a fair job of keeping her face blank. She was on the far side of the men, so Rafe could see her. She was glancing around the bar, nonchalant, as if she hadn’t a care in the world, seemingly quaffing her ale. But Rafe knew better.

“You said the goods checked out.” Rafe wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. No good could come of this meeting being protracted. But most of all he wanted what he’d come for. The letters, the whereabouts of the men whom he would stop at nothing to find.