Page 48 of The Swan Syndicate #1

Stella hadn’t wanted to let go of the crossbow, but Beckworth pointed out she wouldn’t be able to climb the rope ladder to the Daphne . Once he stepped onto the deck, she immediately took it from him. She was still gripping it when Jamie laid his hands on her shoulders.

“Are you alright, lass?” Jamie’s wrinkled brow seemed contrary with his handsome grin.

“I’m fine. Thank you for the rescue.”

“I’m not sure who rescued who.” Beckworth took the blanket Lando handed him and wrapped it around Stella.

She grasped it with one hand, still shivering but at least her teeth had stopped chattering. Jamie and Lando glanced down at the crossbow but didn’t say anything when Beckworth pulled the blanket over it.

“We need to get the ship underway.” Jamie nodded to Lando, who strode off to where Fitz watched The Horseman through a spyglass. “You can get out of your wet clothes and get some rest, then we can talk about what happened.”

“If it’s alright with you…” Stella fumbled with both edges of the blanket. Her fingers were still numb from the cold, and she couldn’t grasp it tightly enough. Beckworth helped get her fist wrapped around it. “I’d like to get this over so I can just pass out afterwards.”

Jamie glanced at Beckworth before nodding. “Wait in my office. We’ll be down as soon as we can.” He winked at her. “I think there’s a bottle of good Irish whiskey on my desk.”

She snorted. “And if not, I know where there’s a case or two.”

He laughed as Beckworth led her away. She couldn’t blame them for their worry.

Beckworth had mothered her from the moment they walked away from Cheval’s body until the jolly boat bumped against the ship.

At first, it was comforting, then it became annoying—until she realized it wasn’t all about her.

Beckworth must have been terrified the minute he found the first swan.

His worst nightmare. Everything he’d imagined about this mission had come true.

She had chuckled to herself. Maybe he was psychic.

She pictured him sitting at a table at the annual mystic fair held about twenty miles north of Baywood.

He was dressed in a black robe lined in red satin and a tall black hat staring into a crystal ball as he rubbed his chin while predicting someone’s future.

She’d sobered quickly enough when the boat came alongside the Daphne where the crew had lined up next to the railing.

Their faces had been similar to Jamie’s, a combination of worry, grins, and a few cheers.

She didn’t know what their plans had been to rescue her.

Maybe she should have waited like her previous kidnappings, but this hadn’t been the same.

She’d had the opportunity, and Beckworth had taught her skills—and she had a few of her own.

But that wouldn’t have stopped Beckworth from worrying or wondering if she was still alive.

He settled her into a chair in Jamie’s office.

“Are you sure you don’t want to change?” When she shook her head, he poured her a glass of whiskey.

“At least let me get you another blanket.” He plucked at the one around her shoulders.

“This one is soaking wet. You need something drier.” Before she could nod, he was out the door.

She took a sip of whiskey and shuddered as the burn worked its way through her, then finished the shot as Beckworth returned. He stood her up and peeled the old blanket away and wrapped the fresh one around her.

“Why don’t I set your crossbow on the table?”

She handed him the empty glass and repositioned the blanket so it covered most of her body, then laid the crossbow across her lap. Her hand trembled until it gripped the cool wood of the crossbow. “I could use another shot.”

He poured her a double and ignored the crossbow.

“What will they do about Cheval’s body?” Her voice sounded stronger to her ears.

“Jamie will send a message to the magistrate at our next port.”

“Wouldn’t his crew do that?”

“Doubtful. Too many questions would be asked. If Jamie has a problem, he’ll provide Hensley’s name and that will be that.” He glanced at her lap. “Did you want to tell me about your souvenir?”

She grinned. “You know how I like to bring one home from every vacation.” He smiled in return.

She’d kept a silk purse—more like a pouch—she’d taken from one of Gemini’s several trunks when she’d first been kidnapped.

It now hung over a standing mirror in their bedroom in Baywood.

It was a pretty purse with a light floral print.

One day she’d pack it away with her other treasures from the past.

They sat in silence for fifteen minutes, holding hands, calmed by the gentle sway of the ship. When Jamie joined them, Lando and Fitz followed him in. They each glanced at the crossbow as they walked past her. Fitz poured everyone a glass of whiskey and refilled Stella’s glass.

Jamie swallowed his down and took a moment to savor it. “Now that the Daphne is underway let’s do a quick recap. We can talk more at dinner tonight.”

“Is the other ship alright?” Stella asked.

“It’s sure to have a fair bit of damage, but nothing that will prevent the crew from getting it to a port,” Fitz answered. “What did you use to get it started?”

Jamie held up his hands. “Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?”

Stella sipped the whiskey and let the blanket slip off her shoulders.

She was finally warm inside and out, and though she kept one hand on it and could feel its weight, she glanced down to confirm the crossbow was still there.

Beckworth placed a hand on her arm, and she wasn’t positive which of them the action was meant to comfort.

“I imagine Lando told you about the men who seemed to be waiting for us.” She glanced around. “I saw Michelson rowing the dinghy. Where’s Thomas? Is he alright? And Lane?”

“Thomas is on his way back to Waverly. Lane is fine. Michelson’s hit on the head was more grievous, but as you saw, he wants to work. Although, I think he still suffers from a headache.”

She nodded. “I have some medicine that might help. Anyway, I remembered the swans and managed to drop one when we were surrounded and obviously outnumbered. I slipped more out when I could.”

“Fitz saw them take you aboard The Horseman ,” Jamie said. “Go on.”

She told them about waking up someplace dark and then someone giving her water, but she’d realized too late they’d put something in it. It had smelled sweet but tasted bitter.

“Laudanum,” Lando said. “Opium. It would have made you sleepy.”

“Yes, the man said that was what the captain wanted, and it definitely did the trick.” She continued her story and told them about Cheval’s paranoia over his crew’s loyalty and how he always sent a second spy because he didn’t trust the first. For some reason, that seemed important to Jamie and the others.

She finished with how she started the fire, her daring jump off the ship, and then finding the crossbow, the only instrument available to stop Beckworth from being strangled.

“Did Cheval ask you anything about England or suspect you had other motives?” Jamie asked.

She considered the question, not sure why he asked it, then she understood. “You want to know if my cover was blown?”

“In so many words, yes.”

“No.” She straightened in her seat, pulling the crossbow closer.

“He was interested in the French rifles. He wanted to be the only source feeding the weapons to MacDuff. It sounded like there might have been a mole on MacDuff’s ship.

Let’s see. Oh, this is important, I think.

He said MacDuff’s network was larger than his, but he had plans to take whatever MacDuff owned.

Wait. You coming to my rescue means you lost where MacDuff went. ”

“Nay, lass,” Fitz said. “We have plenty of information to take back to Hensley. We know MacDuff has a network, Cheval is no longer a problem, and as far as anyone knows, there’s a mysterious smuggler of French weapons called Lady Swan.

” His laugh was one of those diabolic ones and everyone chuckled.

“I suppose.”

“That’s enough for now,” Jamie said. “Get some sleep. If the winds are kind, we should be in Bristol by tomorrow afternoon, and while you’ll miss dinner, you should be sleeping in your own bed at Waverly.”

B eckworth pushed Stella toward their cabin. “I’ll follow in a few minutes.”

She nodded and pulled the blanket up as she trudged down the passageway. The blanket fell when she opened the door and she kicked it into the room, refusing to let go of the crossbow. It was silly. She knew that. But she wasn’t ready to let it go.

She’d killed a man. It hadn’t been her first. That had been Gaines, who had been ready to shoot Beckworth at close range. It would have killed him. She’d had no choice. Just like this time.

She jumped when Beckworth used his foot to push the open door she hadn’t closed all the way. He had a bucket of water in one hand and a coffee pot in another. She gave him a smile in an attempt to disguise her whirlwind emotions. If he noticed anything strange, he didn’t say anything.

He set the bucket down by the wash basin and the coffee pot on the table. He pulled a mug out of one pocket and another one from his other pocket. He poured the coffee and handed one to her.

When he poured water into the basin, she noted the light steam.

“Hot water?”

“Warm enough.” He added a few sprinkles of lavender that he must have taken from her herbal stash.

He carried the basin over and set it on the floor next to the chair then waved her over to sit. She hesitated but did as he asked. He rummaged for a hand rag and a towel before he knelt in front of her then sat back on his heels.

“What are you doing?”

“Hush. Just sit back and enjoy the coffee.” He lifted her foot and placed it on his thigh.

Inch by inch he ran the warm rag over her skin, washing away the dirt and sand.

He ran his hand over her calf then along her thigh, caressing and softly massaging her tense muscles.

When he finished the first leg, he set her foot down and picked up the next.

She finished her coffee and dropped the mug on the table.

The crossbow slipped to the floor, and she leaned her head back as the last of her anxiety drained away.

He moved to her left arm, starting with each finger before working his way up, leaving her warm, tingly, and boneless.

Once he finished, he kissed the soft skin under her wrist before placing her hand on her belly and repeating the process with her other arm.

He never looked at her as he worked, instead keeping his focus on his task.

There wasn’t anything to say, and once again, she considered his actions something he needed as well as her.

This was something he could control. Something he could predict the outcome with a hundred percent accuracy.

It was his way of dealing with his own tumultuous emotions over the last two days. Hell, the entire mission.

When he finished with her arm, he pulled her up and untied the remains of her dress. Now naked, he began with her face, his touch gentle on her cheeks and forehead. His fingers followed the rag as it moved down her neck, across her shoulders, and over her breasts.

He didn’t stop to kiss or linger on her most sensitive spots, and when she’d been washed from head to toe, he moved her to the bed until she lay prone, staring at the ceiling.

Though the air was cool, and goosebumps erupted over her flushed skin, she was warm and tingly inside.

She thought he was done as he dropped the rag in the basin and moved it back to the washstand.

She was wrong.

He gave her a complete body massage, once again starting at her feet, his strong fingers squeezing and caressing as they moved over her.

When he reached her shoulders, he rolled her over.

She was nothing but a limp rag as his fingers trailed down her back, his thumbs working every knot out of her muscles.

She wanted to say something. Thank him. Tell him she loved him. But speaking a single word seemed beyond her capability. She was so tired, and her lids fluttered as sleep overtook her.

At some point, she woke in Teddy’s arms. He was naked, their bodies touching. She stirred and his hand immediately began stroking her arm.

“Ssh. Go back to sleep.” He rolled into her, trapping her from rising.

“Jamie’s expecting us for dinner.”

“I took care of that. If we get hungry later, I’ll pilfer something from the galley. He knows we both need the rest.”

She snuggled closer. “You take such good care of me. I love you, Teddy.”

He squeezed her to him, holding her in a tight cocoon, as she drifted back to sleep.