The Irresistible Rogue (Playful Brides #4)(77)

“Daphne.” His voice was serious. “If I should die, and you find yourself with child…”

She swallowed. A baby? Rafe’s baby? No, she wouldn’t even allow herself to begin to hope. She held up a hand beside her head to stop him but she didn’t turn to look at him. “Don’t worry, Rafe. I can take care of myself and a baby should it come to that. Good-bye.” She strode out the door and it slammed behind her.





CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN




They weighed anchor at dawn but the wind was not favorable and their journey to the mouth of the Thames was slower than it should have been. Rafe spent the first half of the day reading his orders time and again. Capture or kill the men responsible for the death of the Earl of Swifdon, Donald Swift. He already knew the orders by heart but reading them repeatedly helped to keep his mind off Daphne.

Daphne. Damn it. He stood and paced in front of the writing desk in his cabin. Daphne. He wanted to think it had been a mistake to take her to bed last night, but no matter how hard he tried to tell himself that, he knew it was a lie. She’d come to him, wanted him, and he’d wanted her. They were married. If she were with child, she would be protected by his name. It might not be the best outcome and her reputation might suffer a bit for the lack of a wedding, but Julian would handle it and things would be all right for her. Rafe hoped there was no baby but only for her sake. Daphne was gorgeous, and intelligent, and courageous. Any man would be happy to take her to wife. She’d find her blue blood, one who wouldn’t be too concerned about or perhaps even notice her lack of virginity. No. Her one night with him wouldn’t ruin her. But it might well have ruined him. He loved her, damn it. He knew he did. He’d wanted to tell her last night when he was deep inside of her. But he couldn’t destroy her life. And that’s what he’d be doing if he made her hope there could be a future between them. No good would have come of it. It wouldn’t have changed anything. He still had to risk his life for this mission and she had to go back to Mayfair and live the life she was born to. His declaration of love would have made her wish for things they couldn’t have. It would have made her want to stay with him. Or made him not want to leave. It was better this way, having her hate him. She’d have a reason to find a suitable husband and forget about him.

Rafe rubbed his hand over his eyes. She’d said he was a somebody. Her somebody. But all he’d heard were the words from his father’s mouth uttered repeatedly during his childhood. They’d echoed in Rafe’s head. “You’re a nobody. A nothing. You’ll never make your fortune in this world.” His father might not have been right? but he was close. Rafe wasn’t a somebody the likes of which Lady Daphne Swift could stay with. She was na?ve. She thought love was enough to make a successful marriage. But she was wrong. They lived in a society where an earl’s daughter married to an army captain was something to be mocked, ridiculed. He refused to allow her to stand so much as a moment of censure by the people who made up her world.

He cursed and turned his attention back to his orders. He must concentrate. He was so close to what he’d wanted for so long.

*

Two hours later, a knock at the door jolted Rafe from his study of the maps for their route. “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Captain.” Salty’s voice traveled through the wood.

“Come in.”

The door opened and Salty strode inside, a forbidding look on his face.

“What is it, Salty? It can’t be that bad. We’ve finally made it to the Channel.”

Salty rubbed his jaw. “There’s something I need to tell you. And you’re not going to like it.”

Rafe narrowed his eyes on his crewmate. “I don’t like the sound of your tone.”

“It’s Lady Daphne, er, Grey. He’s stowed away.”

*

Daphne knew the moment Rafe had discovered she was on the ship. A loud crack indicated that he’d slammed open his door, and the pounding of his boots on the steps leading up to the deck twisted her stomach into knots. This had seemed like a good idea when she’d been climbing down the ladder to the rowboat before dawn. She’d been sitting in the small boat, about to head back to shore, when pure anger had gripped her. She was tired of being told what to do by men. First her father, then Donald, then Julian, then Lord Fitzwell, and now Rafe. She was through with taking orders from them. And by God, she wasn’t about to let the man she loved sail off and get killed by the same bastards who had killed her brother. She was going to help him whether he would admit that he loved her or not. Whether he would admit that he needed her help or not. And she could help him in France. She knew it. That stubborn ass knew it, too. If only he’d admit it. He loved her, too. She knew that as well. She’d known it before last night, by his touch, his kisses. If she’d had any doubt, he’d banished it when he made love to her last night.

He’d called it his mission, but it was her mission, too. Her brother had been murdered, her true love had been tortured. It was her mission, too, and she would stay by Rafe’s side and complete it. That was all there was to it.

She’d maneuvered the rowboat around to the far side of the sloop and climbed up using a bit of rope that Salty had left hanging off. Bless Salty. It was all she needed.

Once she’d made it up to the deck, the space had been thankfully empty. She sneaked past the mast, down to the kitchens, and hid herself in the cupboard. She’d meant to stay there as long as she could. The longer she remained hidden, the better chance she had to keep them from trying to turn around and take her back home, but an unfortunately timed sneeze had given her away and Cook had opened the cupboard and discovered her. At first she’d considered begging him not to tell Rafe, but she quickly discarded that notion. The ship’s captain would have to be told about a stowaway. Cook had informed Salty and Salty had marched off to do his duty.