Free This Perfect Kiss by Melody Thomas Page B

standard, his own black-and-gold banner whipped above ice-encrusted rigging. The earl of Carrick was not an anonymous British entity. There wasn’t a ship’s captain in England who didn’t know who he was. If that revenue ship had been shadowing the Anna since Dover, then the captain of that cruiser knew without a doubt this ship belonged to him.
    â€œDo you think she was lying in wait for us?” Bentwell asked, clearly recognizing what Camden had already concluded.
    â€œOnly if someone knew the Anna was leaving London and tipped them off far enough in advance. Who delivered the message from the dowager countess Carrick three days ago?”
    â€œThe Pelican . The captain gave it to me himself. Said it came from your grandmother. The request seemed as dire as it did genuine.”
    The Pelican was a seal hunting vessel making its last run to market before winter. The captain had brought mail in from Blackthorn Castle while Camden had lived in London. But if for some nefarious reason that revenue cruiser had indeed been lying in wait, then someone had told them the Anna was carrying illegal cargo. That someone was playing dangerous games. The Anna was no smuggling vessel.
    â€œInspect the supercargo, then do a search of the hold,” he told Bentwell. “If something is on board that should not be here, find it.”
    After Bentwell left the deck, Camden stood for some time with his wrists crossed behind him. He had already run out the weather guns to keep the ship on a more even keel, giving her a better grip on the water. Yet even he had his limits. He might know these waters, but in this weather, only a fool would test the limits of a ship when the wind could snap a mast and leave a ship floundering in dangerous seas.
    â€œHelmsman, edge down to starboard. Keep her as near to the wind as she’ll lie,” he shouted, keeping his eyes on the distant ship.
    It could be nothing, he thought, taking the most charitable view of a potentially unpleasant situation.
    A view that was premature as he heard the lookout call, “She be signaling us to come about, my lord.”

Chapter 4
    T he schooner flew the white ensign of the Royal Navy. It was all business as Camden waited on deck , watching the approaching jolly boat battle the swells. He raised his perspective glass to his eye.
    A single officer stood at the bow of the small boat. A heavy military frock coat warded off the chill and whipped in the wind, revealing the crisp navy blue and gold braided jacket beneath. Two lobster-backs sat behind him. “Not exactly an armed boarding party,” Bentwell murmured. “Are you going to let them board?”
    â€œWhat do you think would happen if I did not?” Camden turned his attention to his crew. “Look lively there!” he shouted, sending them into action, up and down the deck and masts.
    A lad lowered the rope ladder to prepare for boarding as the boat closed in against the hull of the ship. The officer swung himself up the ladder and clamored briskly aboard.
    He was a tall man, in his thirties, square jawed and clean shaven in the way of a lieutenant who ran a strict ship. His cheeks were ruddy pink from the cold. Seeing Camden, he removed his bicorn and tucked it beneath his arm, revealing a helmet of burnished gold hair. It was unusual that a British naval officer would show that manner of respect to one suspected of smuggling, even more unusual that he would come aboard without escort.
    Camden let his gaze slide over the blond lieutenant. “To what do I owe this signal honor, Lieutenant?” he asked, unimpressed and investing an annoyed air in his tone. All the while, his attention remained focused on the cannonades aimed at his ship.
    â€œI am Lieutenant Ross of HMS Glory Rose, my lord. I was once the custom’s agent assigned to the Tidewater region of Virginia. We have not had the pleasure of meeting personally. But I know who you are.”
    Camden