Free The Rogue's Surrender (The Nelson's Tea Series Book 3) by Katherine Bone Page B

moments. She wasn’t a fragile flower like Constance or as able-bodied as Adele, but her spirit far out-shone them in other ways. For all her blustery anger, she weighed next to nothing. He fought hard to remain detached, but became instantly aware of her supple figure flush against his, complimenting him in every way. Temporarily transfixed, he drank in the smooth angles of her exotic cheeks, her swooping dark brows, and the thick lashes concealing luxuriously rich, dark pupils.
    Like him, Mercy had been raised for a purpose, outmaneuvering the enemy, by a father determined to forge a lasting legacy for generations to come. Begrudgingly, she was no longer her father’s concern. As much as he hated to admit it, she was his responsibility now. He’d made a promise to Simon to bring her safely back to England. He’d promised Don Vasquez he would protect her with his life. He didn’t take a vow lightly.
    Darkness flooded over him as he smoothed hair away from Mercy’s face. He’d failed to protect Esmeralda against Delgado. He’d not foreseen Holt’s assassination attempt on Simon, a gutless act which had nearly caused Gillian’s death instead.
    He wouldn’t be ineffective again.
    He held Mercy’s unconscious body a few moments longer than wise before picking her up and carrying her to his bunk. He laid her down gently. This particularly annoying, but useful hoyden held the keys to Lord Melville’s deliverance. She was Samuel Whitbread’s winning hand. Beyond his reach.
    But what did Garrick care? The Priory was his again.
    He was complete. Wasn’t he?
     
    ~~~~
     
    Mercy groggily opened her eyes, yawned and stretched. Lying on her side, she pondered the etched lines of the mahogany paneled bulkhead before her, hoping her mind played her false. Beneath her, the uncomfortable mattress offered little support against the havoc roiling in her stomach.
    Wood creaked and moaned an uncontrollable rhythm reminding her of the countless times she’d climbed rickety steps leading up to a ship’s deck and felt off-balance. An iron-latticed lantern protested against its hinge, keeping time, the tempo and sway casting ethereal shadows over the room.
    Beyond the cabin, a man yelled, “Away with the sails!”
    A lump welled in her throat. She swallowed back a sob. Not a dream. That despicable pirate, Capitán Blade, was sailing her farther and farther away from Spain… and home.
    “Capitán Vasquez will not be returning anytime soon.”
    Dios mio! Mercy bolted upright as the memory of Capitán Blade’s declaration spurred her to life. She winced slightly as she gazed about the pristine cabin, half-expecting to find the one-eyed pirate glowering at her in triumph.
    He wasn’t there… this time. Thank God, I am blessedly alone.
    She shifted her legs over the side of the bunk, instantly reminded that she didn’t want another ill-timed war of words or weapons with the infamous lord. Her body ached in places she’d forgotten but at least she was safe and warm.
    Eddie.
    My battle has just begun. She was no closer to finding out the truth about Eddie’s mission or that of this ship than when Eddie first locked her in his cabin. One thing she did know. La Mota — the Priory — was important to Admiral Roche. But why?
    Was Eddie still on board the Priory ?
    A primary tactic of dealing with untrustworthy opponents was in making them believe something that wasn’t true. Was that what Seaton was doing? Did he want her to believe Eddie wasn’t on board? His claim that it was impossible for her to see her brother might simply be a ploy to gain her cooperation. The only way for her to find out was to leave the safety of the cabin to search the ship from bow to stern and discover the truth herself.
    She trusted one thing and one thing only… her own eyes.
    Thoughts of Eddie, so proud, so brave as he’d left the cabin to confront his men tightened her chest cruelly. He would never willingly surrender his authority. He was