Free Sea of Desire by Christine Dorsey Page A

can’t have you being the
only Blackstone to gain all the glory, now can I? Besides, Daniel
is going to France with the delegation from Congress, and he wants
me to go also. It’s something I can do to help us win our
freedom.”
    In the end nothing Jared had said persuaded
John to stay at home. John sailed for France. The next thing Jared
heard, his brother was dead. His cousin, Daniel, gave him the full
account. How John had gone to England to meet with an informant.
How he had fallen from a horse and died.
    It should have been me.
    Jared leaned his forehead on his balled fists
as that thought echoed in his mind. He was the daredevil, the wild
one who took chances. The less-than-perfect brother. If one of them
had had to die, it should have been he.
    Jared slammed the mug down, spilling rum that
pooled, then quickly became a rivulet, dripping off the scarred
tabletop with the next pitch of the ship. This was doing no good.
Thoughts of John only filled him with impotent anger. That’s why he
tried to fill his mind with other things.
    That’s why he shouldn’t have listened to
Daniel’s plea that he act as courier for a traitor.

    She couldn’t sleep.
    Merideth clutched her locket and paced to the
other end of the cabin. It was a mess, and prudence dictated she
try and restore it to some order before her captor returned. Mr.
Blackstone—no, apparently it was Captain Blackstone—wouldn’t like
it that she had ransacked his quarters. But she couldn’t make
herself straighten up his things.
    If only she knew what was happening. Why her
father had been killed. What she was supposed to know about a
traitor. And where they were taking her.
    The cabin’s contents gave no clue. After
lighting the lantern hanging over the desk, she searched carefully.
Though she could decipher some of the writing, the charts were no
help. The captain’s papers dealt more with cargo, captured and
otherwise, than with anything resembling espionage.
    And the only weapon to be found was an
ancient sword. Though it shone from careful preservation, and
seemed sharp enough, Merideth didn’t think she could use it
effectively. But she intended to try.
    Kicking aside a pair of breeches—pulled from
one of the trunks—Merideth walked to the windows. Her hand closed
over her mother’s locket in an unconscious gesture. The worn gold
felt warm and familiar... soothing. But in the next instant
Merideth lifted the ribbon from around her neck and buried the
locket deep in her pocket. It was the only thing of value she had.
She hated the thought of parting with it, but if the need arose,
she would. But she didn’t want it stolen by some murdering
colonial.
    Merideth was so deep in thought she failed to
hear the key turning in the lock. She whirled around, her hand
spread beneath her throat, as the door flew open.
    “Good Lord, what have you done?” Charts and
papers were scattered everywhere, as was every article of clothing
from his sea chests.
    Merideth raised her chin, refusing to show
how intimidated she was by his tall broad-shouldered form. He
nearly took up the entire doorway, and she was certain his booming
voice could be heard all over the ship.
    Captain Blackstone stepped into the cabin,
kicking aside a tangled shirt, and slammed the door. “Answer my
question, woman. What were you about?”
    “I should think that obvious. I was searching
your cabin.”
    Jared looked around in amazement. “And what,
pray tell, did you hope to find? I’m not in possession of any state
secrets.”
    “So I noted.” Merideth stood her ground,
though his green gaze seemed to slice through her.
    “If this is your usual method of spying, I
should think you aren’t too successful.”
    “I was looking for a weapon.” As one, their
eyes slid to the sword lying on the window seat beside her.
    “I would think a pistol more your style,”
Jared said.
    “I have no style where weapons are
concerned.”
    “My mistake.” He bowed, his gaze never
leaving her.