Page 38 of The Swan Syndicate #1
An old man, short and stocky, with a wild crop of dust brown hair and a round face, opened the door. He squinted as he peered out and gave the four men a long look. Somewhat satisfied he stepped back. “Come in.” He left the door open and disappeared into the dimly lit space.
Lando went first, followed by Beckworth and Lane, while Fitz closed the door.
The barn appeared empty. If there had ever been hay stored in it, the forage had disintegrated into the dirt long ago.
A single lantern sat toward the back of the barn, and it wasn’t until they walked closer that Beckworth made out a door.
He stood back. The wall ran the width of the barn.
To the casual eye, it appeared to be the backside of the barn.
Parsons picked up the lantern and opened the door, leading them into another room.
It was the same width of the barn but only twenty feet deep.
Another lantern sat on top of what was one of many crates that took up most of the room.
Several stacks of kegs lined the far-right wall. A smuggler’s hideaway.
“Fitz said you were interested in a crate of weapons to entice MacDuff.” Parsons eyed the group, probably trying to determine if someone other than Fitz was in charge.
Lando nodded. “Flintlocks. A few cannonballs. Maybe a keg of gunpowder.”
“And maybe a fine dress or two,” Fitz added as he snorted and glanced at Beckworth.
Parsons lifted a brow and gave Beckworth a slight smile. “Like dresses, huh.” He studied Beckworth, who blandly stared back. “To each their own. Let’s see what I have.”
It didn’t take long to lift two crates to the ground.
Beckworth whistled when the first one was opened, and he picked up one of the rifles. “These are French.”
Parsons nodded. “They’re harder to come by but worth the risk for the price I get for them. English ones are easier to get, but I’d rather keep as many of them out of Napoleon’s reach as I can.”
They settled on a dozen flintlocks, a handful of eighteen-pound cannonballs, and two kegs of powder. Before the old man closed the lid, he picked up the lantern and moved to another stack of crates. He crooked a finger at Beckworth. “I think I have something you might like.”
Beckworth’s brows rose when Parsons opened a crate filled with linens, lace, and several well-tailored day dresses. “These are French, too.”
“Yep. And they cost a pretty penny.”
Beckworth removed several, taking a closer look at the size of the dress rather than the color.
While he made his selections, the others moved the crate and two kegs to a wagon parked behind the barn.
He selected two dresses he thought were close enough in size.
Stella was decent with needle and thread that she could make them fit well enough.
He smiled and gladly paid Parsons his asking price, already imagining how excited she would be.
A young lad waited with reins in hand as the men climbed into the wagon.
Fitz handed Parsons a bag of coins. He considered the weight and tipped an imaginary hat at Fitz. “Always good to do business with you. Next time you’re in port, the drinks are on me.” He rapped on the wagon, and Fitz jumped up to the bench seat as the lad clucked at the horses.
The road into town was quiet. The wagon made its way to the end of a narrow trail where the jolly boat waited.
Twenty minutes later, the boat knocked into the side of the Daphne, and lines were dropped to raise the cargo. Then a ladder was lowered for the men before the jolly boat was lifted onboard.
Jamie stared into the crate. “French rifles? This is more than we could have hoped for.” He grinned. “And you apparently found a dressmaker.” He patted Beckworth on the shoulder then turned and yelled the order, “Prepare for sail.”
Beckworth found Stella pacing in the cabin.
She turned when she heard him enter, hands on hips. “It’s about time. You’ve been gone for hours.”
He chuckled. “Now you know how I feel.”
“That’s not the same at all. There are at least three or four men with eyes on me all the time.
And dinner took two hours at most. First, I’m stuck down here because I can’t be seen on deck.
As if anyone on the fishing boats would have a clue who I am.
Second, you’re meeting with some sketchy smuggler that Fitz knows, and who knows who might be watching him because he’s a smuggler.
You could have been hauled off by—” She tilted her head.
“I’m not sure exactly by who, but someone from the law or maybe another smuggler. It’s not the same at all.”
Not only did she have a list, but she dragged out the last sentence to ensure he understood exactly how perturbed she was.
“Perhaps this will make up for my inconsiderate absence.” He laid down the bundle of dresses that had been wrapped in a cloak that he’d also purchased from Parsons.
She didn’t waste any time turning the bundle around, opening the cloak with delicate movements.
When she found the dresses inside, her eyes glittered but her focus remained on the cloak which was a deep emerald that complemented her green eyes and luscious, if untamed, auburn hair.
She wrapped it around her and ran her cheek across the collar.
“Oh, Teddy. This is marvelous.”
He only allowed a small handful of people to call him Teddy.
He loved it when she said it, though she didn’t use his first name often and rarely in public.
It was something she reserved for when it was only the two of them, usually during intimate or special moments—like this.
And somehow, that made it all the more endearing.
Then she ripped it off and tossed it on the bed.
He laughed at her theatrics as she picked up the first dress, which was made of silk and lace.
It wasn’t a dress she’d wear to dinner in London, but for the ports they visited, she’d look like royalty.
It was a soft lavender, and though she preferred bolder colors, the men wouldn’t be able to take their eyes off her.
“Help me try these on.” She turned her back to him and waited for him to untie the laces. He slipped the dress off her shoulders and held her hand as she stepped out of it. He placed the dress on the bed while she stepped into the lavender one.
The bodice fit fine, though it was too revealing. It would be fine if he was taking her to dinner, but not for meeting with MacDuff. It was also a bit tight in the waist.
She looked in the small mirror. “I can take the waist out an inch. I’ve seen Eleanor do it.
” She ran a hand across the bodice. “I think Libby packed a couple of linen handkerchiefs that I can tuck in the top.” She tapped a finger on her lower lip.
“Although, perhaps it’s best to keep MacDuff off kilter. ”
“That dress should do it.”
She smirked. “Okay, let’s try the other one.”
The ship rocked and she fell against him. “We’re leaving?”
He set her upright and undid the ties, once again stripping the dress off her. “A storm’s coming. Jamie thinks it will be over quickly, but you might want to take one of your pills.”
She picked up the second dress. This one was a dusty rose and matched the blooming color in her cheeks. “I’m enjoying having you undress me. I think I’ll give Libby the nights off when we return to Waverly.”
He felt his manhood stir, and he waited patiently for her to pull the dress on, which she did in twice the amount of time it took her to try on the last one. She was seducing him.
He grinned. Two could play that game.
Once she had her arms through the sleeves, he scraped his knuckles along her back as he slowly tied the strings. Then he lightly brushed her hair away, barely touching her skin.
She shivered, and he dropped his smile as she turned around. Her gaze seared him, and her voice took on a lusty tone when she asked, “How does it look?”
This one fit better and had a higher neckline which pleased him more than he would admit.
“Like it was made for you.”
“Take it off.”
He couldn’t hold back a smile as he turned her around.
Since she started it, he took his time, and when the dress fell to the floor, he lifted her into his arms rather than let her step out of it.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, light goosebumps erupting over her soft skin.
He dumped her on the bed then unbuttoned his jacket.
She didn’t stay where he put her. Instead, she yanked off her undergarments then brushed his hands away as she tugged off his jacket, untied his shirt, then rolled it up his chest until he helped her pull it over his head.
Her fingers were already working the buttons of his pants, occasionally slipping down to stroke him. He pushed her back on the bed, then sat down to take off his boots. Her arms wrapped around him, and she pressed her breasts against his back.
It was all he could do to get his pants off.
Then she was pulling him down. “Take me to the moon, Teddy. I don’t want to come back down until we’re late for dinner.”