Free The Wayward One (The De Montforte Brothers Book 5) by Danelle Harmon Page A

Seamen, their hair long and caught in oiled pigtails, were busy scrubbing the deck with buckets of seawater, mops, and what looked like large round stones on the ends of poles; others were coiling lines, a young midshipman was supervising a small work crew around one of the guns, and tilting her head back she saw a few men high aloft, clinging like monkeys a hundred or so feet above her head as they stood on footropes and brought in a sail that seemed to scrape the clouds above. The sight made her dizzy, and her fingers tightened on her escort’s arm. She wondered if her balance would become natural in such an unsteady setting should she remain here at length; but of course, she would not be here at length. Even now, she took comfort—and satisfaction—in the knowledge that Lucien would be turning the world upside down to rescue her.
    Lucien.
    But not Perry, who wouldn’t care. Who probably wouldn’t give a second thought to her disappearance.
    “Are ye well, lass?”
    She snapped herself back to the moment. “Well enough, considering I’ve fallen down a flight of stairs, been abducted by a madman, and find myself in primitive conditions while my reputation goes the way of a heavy rock thrown into a particularly shallow pond.”
    “Ah. Ye looked faraway there, for a moment.”
    “I’m fine.”
    “Bollocks.”
    She set her jaw and looked out over the endless waves parading toward them from off to her right. Starboard, her captor called it. “You have no respect for the fact that you’re in the presence of a lady, do you?”
    “Given I’ve got no practice in being in a lady’s presence, no.” He shrugged. “Got plenty of practice being in the presence of other kinds of females, though. But I’m sure ye don’t care to hear about that.”
    “You’re entirely correct. I do not.”
    “So why the sad look in those pretty blue eyes?”
    “I just told you.”
    “And I don’t believe ye.”
    “I don’t care if you believe me or not. My business is my own and I don’t care to share it with you.”
    He shrugged again and let it go. Dropped it the way he might discard a dirty plate and with no visible evidence that her rebuff bothered him in the least. But Nerissa wanted him to care. She wanted him to persist if only for the chance to deny him and withhold from him something he wanted. It was the only power she felt she had left.
    She let go of his arm and moved to the side. He moved dutifully beside her, either because he figured it was the gentlemanly thing to do or because he was afraid she’d fling herself overboard. What did it matter? She wrapped her gloved hands around the rail. It was wet with spray that quickly soaked through the gloves, and looking ruefully down at them she realized that they were ruined. That they served no further purpose.
    And that she really wanted to feel the cold seawater against her fingertips, the feel of the wind and sun against the bare skin of her hands, the smooth, varnished wood of the rail beneath her palms. She stripped off the gloves and threw them into the sea, and immediately felt less burdened.
    Free.
    The wind tore at her hair and the sea flung cold, hissing spray in her face. And in that moment Nerissa realized she felt more alive than she had in months, and certainly since well before Perry had broken off their engagement and told her he never wanted to see her or anyone in her family ever again.
    Free.
    Alive.
    Captain O’ Devir still stood beside her, scanning the horizon beneath a hand to shade his unfairly gorgeous eyes. She sneaked a furtive glance at him. He caught her eye and grinned.
    “So who ye pinin’ for, lass?”
    She turned away and stared resolutely over the endless swells, loving the feel of the ship beneath her. It was almost like riding a spirited mare. Heady. Faintly dangerous. It gave her a sense of freedom.
    “You are irritatingly persistent.”
    “Aye, that I am. ’Tis why I was sent here.”
    “I thought it was because you were the