Page 20 of The Swan Syndicate #1

The Daphne was quiet when he boarded her with dusk fading to darkness.

A few sailors were top deck working on repairs that were difficult to care for while at sea.

Soon they would be in their bunks or at the pubs.

He nodded at the men as he made his way toward the stairs, passing through the galley on the way to their cabin.

He knocked softly before entering and smiled.

Stella was face down in the bed, wearing nothing but her undergarments, her head turned to one side.

Her dress had been thrown over a chair. She was a heavy sleeper when she felt safe and didn’t stir as he removed his jacket and boots.

They would leave soon for their evening mission, but there was enough time to join her for a nap.

Once he’d stripped down to his own underwear, he crawled onto the bed and lay next to her. Though she never woke, she seemed to sense him and leaned into his embrace, her head close to his. The sounds of her slow, steady breaths lulled him to sleep.

Something flicked his nose, and he turned his head away. In his drowsy sleep, he swatted at the next light touch, thinking it an irritating fly. When it happened a third time, his eyes popped open, somewhat disoriented.

“Wake up, sleepy head.”

The sultry voice cleared his sleep-befuddled brain, and he turned as she brushed one of her swans over his nose.

He grinned and pulled her down for a kiss. When he tried to tug her into bed, she stepped away from him.

Her gaze suggested she wanted to jump in with him, but instead, she tossed him his pants and shirt. “Lando, Lane, and Michelson have already left. Jamie says Fitz never returned, so he wanted us to find him before going to the inn.”

He sighed. She was already in mission mode. “The last I saw of him was at the pub on the far side of the docks. He was just heading in. It’s a bit of a rough crowd but it should be safe enough for a quick drink before the inn.”

She wore one of the new dresses he’d bought earlier. It was plain and better fitting for this port and their task. But unless they did something with that auburn hair and her face, men would easily pick her out of a crowd.

“It’s a shame Eleanor couldn’t have come with us. Her knowledge of theater makeup would come in handy.”

She gave him a questioning look. “Why would I need that?” She handed him his jacket, and he dropped it on the bed and pulled her to him, giving her a long, promising look.

“To keep the men from staring at you each time you walk into a room.”

His words produced a lovely blush, which was what he was aiming for.

“You always know the right thing to say. And I expect you to follow up on that kiss when we return.” She stepped away and flipped through her clothing until she found a warm shawl.

The weather wasn’t too dissimilar to a winter day in Baywood, but with a bit more of a bite, especially along the coast. They’d been fortunate to avoid the rain.

He straightened his jacket and opened the cabin door. “Was Jamie staying on the ship?”

“He claims to have paperwork to catch up on, and after making the rounds with the ships earlier today, he wants to avoid being seen too often.”

“He never said if he’d learned anything from his visits. Did he say anything at dinner?”

She tilted her head. “Nothing that I remember, so his afternoon was a bust too.”

“Not necessarily. He might be waiting for one of our reports to validate something he might have heard.”

“And they say women are better at secrets.” She sauntered out of the cabin and stopped to ask the three sailors in the galley if they needed anything more to eat before they left.

They were surprised by her question but smiled and nodded their appreciation. Most of them knew AJ Murphy from earlier missions and no longer seemed to question the wisdom of having women on board. He nodded at the men as he followed Stella to the stairs.

The docks were more crowded than earlier with sailors, merchants, and other locals milling around the pubs and inns. The locals would soon be on their way home, but the pubs would remain busy long into the night.

Stella walked behind him as he entered the pub where he’d last seen Fitz. He strode toward an open table when a drunk heading for the door ran into him.

“Watch where you’re going, mate.”

The Irish accent was thick, and Beckworth growled a response as his gaze flashed around the room.

Fitz was in full disguise, and his bumping into him was a warning as he exited the pub.

Beckworth turned toward a table while he scanned the room, his gaze landing on three men at the bar who appeared to be watching Fitz.

One of the men, tall and thick with a heavy beard, moved toward the door.

He could be leaving for any number of reasons that had nothing to do with Fitz.

If he didn’t have Stella with him, he’d do something to slow the man down.

But he wouldn’t risk her safety. Fitz would easily slip into the crowd of sailors. He knew what he was doing.

The man grew close, but his focus was clearly on the door. Beckworth held his ground as the man passed by. A low grunt, the scraping of wooden legs on the floor, and several sharp remarks made him turn around.

Stella was on the ground and the burly man was pushing up from a chair he’d fallen into. Beckworth assumed he must have collided with her. He held out his hand, and she grabbed it. Once she was standing, she shook out her dress and patted her hair.

“Oh, my. He came out of nowhere,” Stella explained to Beckworth.

“You stepped into me.” The burly man had gained his footing and stood over her, a good foot taller.

She didn’t back down, and when Beckworth placed a hand on her arm, she knocked it away. “I’m not asking for an apology. So, no harm done.”

The man stepped closer, his eyes narrowing to slits. “I know you.”

She stepped back, and Beckworth put his arm through hers. “I’ve never seen you before you plowed into me.”

He snapped his fingers. “Earlier today. You were at the inn.”

She didn’t hesitate in responding. “Yes. I ate lunch there.” She gave him a stern look. “Are you following me?” She turned to Beckworth. “I think he’s following me.”

For the first time, the man looked at Beckworth. Then he noticed the attention they were getting from the crowd. He glanced over his shoulder to his buddies and scowled. “Like you said. No harm done.”

He pushed past them and quickened his pace until the door shut behind him.

Beckworth looked at the two remaining men who’d stood when their friend ran into Stella but held their ground during the altercation. They glanced at each other and then at Beckworth before taking their seats.

He squeezed Stella’s arm and turned her toward the door.

“Why are we leaving?”

Her words weren’t loud, but the few men who heard her chuckled. That was good. Most of the men saw the entire incident as a good-natured accident and probably liked Stella’s spunk at standing up to a man a good foot taller than her. The question was whether the men at the table bought her ploy.