Free Gentle Rogue by Johanna Lindsey Page A

disguise? Hell and fire, the last time he’d seen her, she’d been done up the same. It could be her normal way of dress…no, he was forgetting her upset when Tony had announced that she was a woman, not a man. She’d been hiding her sex then, was hiding it now—or hoped to do so.
    His cabin boy. What nerve she had! James shook his head, chuckling.
    It was going to be interesting indeed to see how she planned to get away with it. A poorly lit tavern was one thing, but on a ship, in the bright light of day? And yet she’d obviously fooled Connie. Maybe she could have gotten away with it if James hadn’t met her once before. But he had, and he hadn’t forgotten the meeting, remembered it quite well, in fact;her cute little backside that had so intrigued him, a tender breast that had fit so nicely in his hand. Her features had been exquisitely delicate: the perfectly molded cheekbones, the pert little nose, the wide, sensual lips. He hadn’t seen her brows, nor a bit of her hair, but for those few moments when she’d finally looked up at him outside that tavern, he had become lost in velvety-brown eyes.
    He’d gone back not once but half a dozen times trying to find her in the last month. He realized now why he’d had no luck. No one knew anything of the pair because they’d never been in that area before, likely never even been to London before. It would be a safe bet to assume they were from the West Indies and now returning home, rather than the other way around. MacDonell might be a Scot, but the wench wasn’t. James hadn’t been able to place her distinctive accent, but English it wasn’t, of that he was certain.
    She was a mystery, all right, and one he meant to solve. But first he was going to amuse himself with her charade by installing her in his cabin and letting her think his cabin boy always slept there. He would have to pretend he didn’t recognize her, or let her assume he simply didn’t remember their encounter. Of course, there was the possibility that she might not remember it, but no matter. Before the voyage was over, she’d share more than his cabin. She’d share his bed.

Chapter Ten
    T he galley was not exactly the most brilliant place to hide, not with summer still hanging on and the ocean breezes still a far way off. Once they were out to sea it wouldn’t be so bad, but now, with the huge brick ovens radiating heat since before the dawn, and steam rolling out of cauldrons on the stove for what promised to be a tasty evening meal, it was hot as the devil’s welcome.
    The cook and his two helpers had discarded most of their clothes by the time the crew started wandering in for a quick breakfast, a man or two at a time as could be spared, since the hours before castoff were the busiest time aboard. Georgina had watched the activity dockside for a while as the last of the ship’s supplies and equipment were delivered and carried to the hold and galley. But it was a familiar sight and so didn’t hold her interest very long. And besides, she’d seen enough of England to last her a lifetime.
    So she stayed in the galley, out of the way and out of notice, perched on a stool in the opposite corner from where the food supplies were being stacked, barrels and casks and sacks of grain and flour, so much that there was finally no room for any more, and the rest had to be stored in the hold.
    If it weren’t for the heat, Georgina would really have liked it there, for it was certainly the cleanestgalley she’d ever seen. But then the whole ship had a spanking new look to it, and, in fact, she’d been told it had just undergone refurbishing from top to bottom.
    Between the ovens and stove was a deep coal bin, full to the brim just now, A long table in the center of the room was barely scarred, with a butcher’s cleaving block at the end of it waiting to drip blood from one of the many live animals penned in the hold—a great many animals actually, just about guaranteeing fresh meat for the