Free Seduced by a Spy by Andrea Pickens Page A

varnished wood and lacquered paper showing all the wonders of a world outside the slums of St. Giles. On my first day, our headmistress bade me choose a new name for a new life. So I set the sphere in motion and watched the cities turn slowly.” She shrugged. “Shannon had a nice ring to childish ears.”
    “That it does.” He leaned closer and murmured in her ear. “
Sionainn
.”
    “What—”
    “It sounds even lovelier in Gaelic.”
    She swore, but there was little force behind it.
    “And far more interesting than Alexandr.” He gave the name a distinct Russian inflection. “No doubt it was yet another compromise of conflicting cultures—my father would likely have chosen Rurik or Yaroslav while my mother would have favored John or George.”
    Shannon could not quite hide a smile. “
You
settling for any sort of compromise? I am surprised you did not pop out pronouncing your own wish in the matter.”
    “I was a very well-behaved child. Or so I am told.”
    “Ha! More likely you terrorized your nursemaid and sent your mother into permanent decline.”
    “No, that deed I left to my father.”
    She regarded him thoughtfully before speaking. “Did I strike a raw nerve?”
    Damn.
He should have known she was too sharp to miss his tiny slip. “Not at all. There is precious little that can penetrate my hide, save for the stray piece of lead or steel.” Orlov blotted his brow on his sleeve. The tiny cabin seemed to be rocking more wildly than before. “Speaking of which, is there any brandy left in your flask?”
    Shannon fetched it without comment and waited while he downed its contents in two quick gulps. Turning away, she extinguished the lamp. He heard the creak of wood as she lay down in her berth.
    “Sweet dreams, Alexandr.”
    His lips twitched. In one way, at least, she
was
a typical female. It was just like a woman to feel she had to have the last word.

Chapter Six
    “What is taking so damnably long?” demanded Orlov. “We should have reached Southampton long before now.”
    Shannon took her cloak down from its peg. “The captain heard rumors of a French corsair cruising off Land’s End. He was forced to head north around the Scilly Islands to avoid any chance of an encounter. And now…” She paused, listening to the crack of canvas and the thud of footsteps on the deck above. “The weatherglass shows a storm approaching. I imagine it will mean further delay.”
    He muttered an oath.
    “If I were you. I would not be quite so eager to set foot on English soil.”
    “Newgate would be preferable to this cursed hellhole. At least its floors do not dance around like a damned dervish.” Orlov drew in a breath and let it out in disgust. “And surely the stench could be no worse than this god-awful bilge water.”
    Shannon couldn’t blame him for being in a foul temper. She, too, would be swearing if she were confined in such a dark, damp space. A sidelong glance showed that the Russian was looking pale as the underbelly of a dead fish beneath the stubbling of fair whiskers.
    Their eyes met and she saw his jaw tighten. “Let me come with you.”
    “The captain’s orders…” she began.
    “To hell with his orders.” Defiance flashed in his eyes, along with an unspoken plea. “Bloody hell, it is like being trapped in a coffin down here. I am not used to such inaction. Surely you can appreciate what I mean.”
    A knock on the door signaled the appointed time for her exercise on deck. She pulled up the hood of her cloak and slipped out. But in a few minutes she returned with an extra oilskin. “Here—and be quick about it, before he changes his mind.”
    Though his movements were stiff, Orlov managed to navigate the steep ladder and hatchway without a slip. Crossing the deck, he leaned on the ship’s rail, and lifted his face to the salty breeze. “Thank you,” he murmured, after drawing in a deep breath. There was no trace of his usual sarcasm.
    She took up a position by his side, ready