Free The Rogue’s Prize by Katherine Bone Page A

’s
    defeat. But who was Whistler? And how
    was he going to get a message to Simon
    to prove the informant’s existence?
    Sifting through papers at his
    fingertips, enthralled by information
    he’d been fortunate to gather, Percy
    collapsed into the desk chair. Mind
    racing, his heart thrummed with hope.
    For the first time since the Octavia sank
    to the bottom of the Channel, barriers to
    Frink’s
    network
    of
    power
    were
    beginning to thin. He leaned back and
    closed his eyes, satisfied that he still had
    a chance to avenge his sister.
    A knock sounded at the door.
    “Captain?”
    His eyes darted from the door to the
    bed to see if the disturbance had roused
    Lady Constance. He simply wasn’t ready
    to deal with the sobbing woman. Not
    when a new plan was beginning to
    develop in his mind. He didn’t need
    distractions right now and that was what
    she was proving to be, a disruption to
    his life and ambitions. He eyed her
    suspiciously and eased himself out of his
    chair. Then he strode soundlessly to the
    cabin door and quietly stepped outside.
    “Shh,” he rebuked. “The lady’s
    sleeping.”
    Ollie
    peered
    over
    Percy’s
    shoulder, wincing with the effort and
    stopped short when the only thing visible
    was her torn shift lying on the floor.
    “Not asleep, I wager, but ridden to
    exhaustion,” he joked.
    “Aye.” Percy winked. With a lop-
    sided smile, he let the man think what he
    would. It only served to enhance the
    lady’s protection. “Is anything amiss?”
    “A … miss?” Ollie stuttered.
    “Other than wanting to catch sight
    of our prize, why are you here?” he
    asked.
    He didn’t want to dwell on Lady
    Constance — as if he could forget her.
    He wanted to focus on how he was going
    to get Josiah Cane to lead him to
    Celeste’s killer. There would be time
    later to figure out what to do with the
    tempting wench in his bed and deal with
    the annoying trouble she’d caused him.
    But first, he had to get to London. Until
    he docked, he had innumerable problems
    to contend with, not the least of which
    were keeping Constance safe, Collins
    and Guffald alive, and making sure the
    men on the ship didn’t mutiny again.
    After he arrived, there was the
    Octavia ’s sinking to report, prisoners to
    relinquish, and Constance to see safely
    delivered home to her uncle. Simon was
    not a man he wanted to engage when
    angry. The man was a formidable
    legend. The sooner Constance was off
    his hands, the better.
    Perhaps news he’d been able to
    save his old friend, Guffald, would
    soothe Simon’s ruffled feathers where
    Constance was concerned, he thought.
    “Cap’n?”
    “Aye?” he answered, stirred at last
    from his musings.
    “Your pardon, sir, but it seems you
    are preoccupied.” He grinned. “Not that
    I blame you.”
    “You’re quite fixated on that girl,
    aren’t you, Ollie?”
    “Aye, Cap’n.” Clearing his throat,
    Ollie groaned, “If you get tired of her,
    the crew and me have drawn straws.”
    Percy grinned. “Save it, you old sea
    dog. The girl is returning to her uncle. I
    don’t think Simon would think kindly of
    her returning sorely used.”
    “Right.” He frowned. “How about
    slightly used?”
    A smile widened Percy’s lips. If
    anyone were going to slightly use the
    girl, it would be him. “What brings you
    below deck, Ollie? I counted on you
    being at the helm.”
    “Frink’s crew, what’s left of ’em,
    have agreed to terms. The others, those
    what fought and refused to sail, are
    floating like bloated whales in one of the
    Striker ’s boats, headed to France.”
    Ollie’s wicked cackle raised the hair on
    his arms. They weren’t supposed to set
    any of the men free and France and
    England were at war.
    “Why didn’t you put them in the
    hold? Simon wanted them — alive.”
    “There wasn’t room, Cap’n, not
    with what Frink had pulled from the
    Octavia and stored in the hold. With
    Collins, Guffald and his men, our own
    men and now some of