Page 36 of The Swan Syndicate #1

“Was one of them your bodyguard?”

She took her time, appearing to shake off the unpleasant conversation.

“No. Adam, the first mate, knew Lando from his time in England. We parted ways when we arrived in Le Havre. He and the second mate had no desire to return to England and spoke French. They’d spent time as fur traders in the Canadian territory, which is where they met my husband.

” Good grief, she’d never remember this tale.

She was supposed to keep the conversation simple.

“I don’t speak the language, so he found me passage to England and sent me to Southampton with a letter.

” She laughed. “It took a month before my bodyguard arrived.”

“And now?”

“Now, I’ve taken up the only business I know and one I can do without having to remarry.”

“Running cargo?”

She shrugged. “I’ve learned from the best.”

The server arrived with their meal, and while MacDuff spoke with her, Stella glanced around the room. Michelson was in the same spot. This time he spoke with someone who she’d guess to either be a local or a traveler.

When their server left after refreshing their wine, Stella led the conversation with her own questions.

“You run cargo as well if I remember. Do you normally travel the coast?” She took a bite of fish that had a pleasant, spicy taste but had been overcooked.

He gave her a wink as he ate. “It appears we have business in common. Might I ask what type of shipments you run?”

She finished a bite, washed it down with wine, and gave him an innocent smile. “Oh, you know, things hard to obtain during a war—whiskey, fine lace, hard-to-come-by spices, and the like.” She shrugged. “And other things.”

She let the “and other things” linger and took a last bite of green beans before pushing the plate away in favor of the mug. Her gaze moved from his quiet inspection to sweep the room. Michelson was still there, this time talking to a sailor she recognized from the Daphne .

When her focus returned to him, he was still watching her. “What types of shipments do you run?” She decided to play coy and leaned over. “I’m not having dinner with my competition, am I?”

He took time to survey the room, either because of what he was going to share or simply because she had. Before he spoke, she could tell he was going to play her game. “I prefer to run rum, tobacco, and exotic silks.” He gave her a lusty look. “And other things.” Then he went back to eating.

She laughed. “That sounds like I might indeed have some competition.”

He pointed at her dish. “Is the meal not to your liking?”

She glanced down and frowned. “I hate to admit it.” She glanced around the room again which made him do the same. She grinned. “You won’t tell anyone.”

He leaned closer. “This conversation is only between us.”

“I’m afraid I sometimes get motion sick.”

His laugh was robust and honest before he leaned toward her again. “A smuggler who gets seasick?”

“I never said I was a smuggler.”

“Fine laces, whiskey, and other things speak to contraband.” He finished his plate and his mug of wine. “I’ll tell you what. You tell me what you’re really carrying, and I’ll do the same.”

“You first.” She added a bit of an edge to her request.

His eyes narrowed. “Now, we’re getting somewhere.

” He considered her, and she held her ground.

“I admit I’m on my way to meet another ship.

” He picked up her hand that had been resting by her mug.

“I would give you my word that any lucrative partnership we might arrange would only be between ourselves.”

She had an immediate urge to withdraw her hand, but she let it rest in his as he stroked a thumb over the top of it. “I’ll be in Tenby in two days. Perhaps you can buy me another dinner.”

He considered her statement. “I would have to alter my plans.” He released her hand and sat back. “But something tells me it would be worth my time. Shall we take a short stroll?”

He rose, threw some coins on the table, and took her arm.

She noticed Michelson and the sailor from the Daphne finish their drinks as she was led out of the inn.

Lando nodded to her as she exited and, without a word, fell in step behind her and next to MacDuff’s guard as they sauntered along the docks.

They walked away from the Daphne , which suited Jamie’s plans.

MacDuff spoke of his travels and his favorite Irish port. “Have you been to Ireland?”

“No, I’m afraid I have no contacts there, but I hear it’s good for the cargo business.”

“Perhaps I can help introduce you on one of your next runs.”

“Perhaps so.”

“Shall I walk you back to your ship?” MacDuff asked.

Before she could answer, Lando responded. “That won’t be necessary, sir.”

When MacDuff turned to him, Stella was relieved to see Michelson and the sailor from the inn directly behind Lando.

Lando nodded with deference to MacDuff. “You understand, sir.”

MacDuff gave the three men a thoughtful look then waved off his bodyguard, who’d taken a step closer. He kissed Stella’s hand and gave her a wicked grin. “At least I don’t have to worry about your safety.”

She reached into her pocket and took his hand, turning it over to run a thumb over his palm. Then she placed a swan in it. “Something to remember me by.” She winked. “Until next time.”

His laughter followed them as Lando took her arm and strode back the way they’d come. Michelson and the sailor remained behind them as they disappeared into a crowd of sailors.

“Are you alright?” Lando asked.

“Yes.” She couldn’t stop shaking as he slowly scanned behind them before walking her up the gangplank to the deck of the Daphne .

Lando didn’t stop until they’d reached the galley where Jamie, Fitz, and Beckworth waited. Beckworth jumped to her side as soon as Lando released her arm, and she leaned into him, welcoming his embrace as he led her to a chair.

“Well?” Jamie asked.

She took a deep breath, shaking off the last of her tremors. “Like shooting thugs in a barrel.”