Her Master and Commander by Karen Hawkins Page A

The sauce? Very well. I will tell the chef you do not care for beef polonaise, however I do think you might enjoy it if you had the correct wine and—”
    “I don’t want any sauce, beef polonaise or not. Reeves, I want you and your men out of my barn.” Tristan sent a glare toward Toggle. “You! You may finish your rations, but that’s it. After that, it’s back to work with you!”
    “Aye, Cap’n!” Toggle sank gratefully back into his seat and began shoveling food into his mouth as fast as he could.
    Reeves sighed. “My lord, I fear you mistake my intentions. I just thought to bring your men a little taste of what could be.”
    “You wished to win them over and thus win me.” Tristan thought to embarrass the butler, but all Reeves did was smile.
    “Perhaps. I suppose it’s not to be, though. I shall have the men pack our things.”
    Toggle made a sound of distress, but Tristan ignored him. “See to it that they do.” He looked around, frowning. “Where are your horses?”
    “We made use of the sheds.” Reeves spread his hands wide as if to indicate he’d had no other choice. “It was better to keep the animals away from the kitchen area.”
    “This is a barn, Reeves. A barn . Do you understand that?”
    “Of course, my lord. It is whatever you say it is. After all, you are the earl.”
    Damnation! “Look, Reeves—”
    Toggle cleared his throat. “Pardon me, Cap’n, but Master Reeves and his men made the sheds as shipshape as they’ve ever been. He’s bloody good at organizing. He’d make a helluva first mate.”
    Stevens gaped. “ What did ye say?”
    Toggle blinked. “Not better than ye, of course! I didn’t mean it that way, indeed I didn’t!”
    Reeves bowed to Stevens. “From what Toggle has let fall, I know you to be my superior.” He fixed his calm blue gaze on Tristan. “Before I leave, I shall write down what I know so far of Master Christian’s whereabouts.”
    Christian. How had Tristan allowed himself to forget that? He nodded shortly, a flush of guilt washing away his irritation. “That is most generous of you. I am sorry I cannot allow you to stay in my barn. I cannot have such upheaval—”
    “My lord, please! There is no need for an apology.”
    “Yes, well…you may take an extra day to pack, if you need it.”
    “There ye go, Cap’n,” Stevens said, nodding as if he’d solved their difficulties for them. “We’re back on course!”
    Reeves smiled at the first mate. “Master Stevens, I hesitate to ask, but would you like a bit of supper before we pack our belongings?”
    Stevens looked at Tristan. “Would ye mind, Cap’n? I mean—me lord?”
    “Stop that! I won’t have that ‘my lord’ balderdash spoken in my own home.”
    Stevens’s brow lowered. “I don’t know that I can call ye Cap’n anymore. ’Tis an insult to the king, not to respect the gentry.”
    Reeves nodded thoughtfully. “Rules have a place in our lives, do they not, Master Stevens?”
    “Indeed they do.” Stevens opened his mouth to say something else when he froze, then slapped a hand to his forehead. “Gor, Cap’n! I almost forgot! Mrs. Thistlewaite is in yer study.”
    Tristan straightened. “More sheep troubles?”
    “She brought one of yer sheep with her; says ’tis the very one as has been breakin’ into her garden.”
    The news transfixed Tristan for a moment. “She brought a sheep?”
    “Aye, Cap’n. Tied her muffler about it and dragged it all the way from her house.”
    Despite himself, Tristan chuckled.
    “Goodness,” Reeves said, his eyes bright with interest. “Who is Mrs. Thistlewaite? She sounds like a lady of great resources.”
    “Lud, Master Reeves! ’Tis the smoothest little schooner ye ever saw, smart as they come and trim as a gull! She and her mum wish to start a school for comportment near here, and we’ve all been waitin’ to see what happens. They’re widows, the both of ’em, but I’ve yet to hear a bad word spoke about