have no such intention.” Then he winked. “We have to ditch it before we let the customs officer come aboard theSeahawk .”
Tory gasped. “But what about the smell of chocolate?”
His arms swept around her and he drew her close. “Your first instinct is to protect me and my ship, in spite of the fact that I tried to deceive you. You are my dearest coconspirator. Don’t worry about the smell. TheSeacock is prepared.”
“I only overlook your deceit because I adore chocolate.”
“Nay, you accept me with all my flaws because it’sme you adore, not chocolate.”
“Cocksure devil!”
“Did you know chocolate comes from the seedpods of the cacao tree in Portuguese Guinea near the equator? They must be fermented, then shipped to Portugal, where they are dried and roasted. I have a standing order every year with a Cap Griz Nez merchant for a dozen sacks of cacao beans.”
“Their journey from the equator to Bodiam is as exotic and miraculous as mine from Victorian times.”
“’Tis for exactly the same purpose—to give pleasure.”
“Let me look at your scar.” She brushed his hair back. “The angry redness has faded. It will be invisible on a dark and moonless night,” she teased.
“I suggest dry biscuits and ginger wine to keep your stomach on an even keel. If you come on deck, wear the warm cloak. There’s been a sea change; the wind’s brisk and the swells are high.”
It was dusk before the Dover cliffs came into view and Hawkhurst took advantage of the northeast wind to carry the ship southwest. The crew dropped the cargo near Romney, where the crates would be carried into the salt marsh on the tide. He then took theSeahawk back out to sea and once more let the wind take her. Then he turned so his ship could sail into Rye from the opposite direction.
Down in the hold, his first mate opened a heated barrel of tar. The acrid odor obliterated any trace of the chocolate fragrance. Falcon dropped anchor at the Rye Bay Customs House, swung over the rail, and hailed one of Carswell’s men. He followed Hawkhurst aboard and they took a lantern below for a cursory inspection of the hold. When they emerged, Carswell was standing on the deck.
“You’re too late, Tom. I’ve already bribed your man here.” Falcon winked. “For a bottle of French brandy he turned over his cutlass and offered to throw in his sister.”
Carswell didn’t laugh. “I must perform my duty, Lord Hawkhurst. Have you any goods to declare?”
“Not a herring.” He handed him the lantern and jerked his thumb toward the hold. “Be my guest. Speaking of sisters, I took mine for a sail to the Isle of Wight yesterday before the autumn gales threaten. Lord Carisbrooke invited us to the castle. Confidentially, he’s looking for a bride, but Tory isn’t keen.”
“Good evening, Mr. Carswell.” Victoria had put off her cloak to catch his eye. “You conduct yourself with such authority, sir, it quite takes my breath away. May I accompany you while you inspect the ship?”
“Mistress Palmer, it would be an honor.” He held the lantern high and moved toward the hold. “Mind your step, my dear.”
On the stairs she took his arm and held it tightly as if she were afraid of falling. “Ugh, why do ships always smell of tar?”
“Ship’s timbers are caulked with tar to keep them waterproof. ’Tis a necessary evil, I’m afraid.”
“Like customs officers,” she said sweetly.
“We are necessary, but hardly evil, my dear.”
She threw him a mischievous glance. “I’m teasing you, Thomas.” Tory went back up the steps ahead of him, affording him a generous glimpse of her trim ankles. “Goodnight, Mr.
Carswell. Falcon, do hurry and haul up the anchor, I’m freezing to death.”
“Good night, Carswell. Your vigilance is commendable.” Falcon picked up Tory’s cloak and draped it about her shoulders. “And your cockteasing is shameless,” he murmured.
Tory stood at the ship’s rail as it glided up the river
Tory gasped. “But what about the smell of chocolate?”
His arms swept around her and he drew her close. “Your first instinct is to protect me and my ship, in spite of the fact that I tried to deceive you. You are my dearest coconspirator. Don’t worry about the smell. TheSeacock is prepared.”
“I only overlook your deceit because I adore chocolate.”
“Nay, you accept me with all my flaws because it’sme you adore, not chocolate.”
“Cocksure devil!”
“Did you know chocolate comes from the seedpods of the cacao tree in Portuguese Guinea near the equator? They must be fermented, then shipped to Portugal, where they are dried and roasted. I have a standing order every year with a Cap Griz Nez merchant for a dozen sacks of cacao beans.”
“Their journey from the equator to Bodiam is as exotic and miraculous as mine from Victorian times.”
“’Tis for exactly the same purpose—to give pleasure.”
“Let me look at your scar.” She brushed his hair back. “The angry redness has faded. It will be invisible on a dark and moonless night,” she teased.
“I suggest dry biscuits and ginger wine to keep your stomach on an even keel. If you come on deck, wear the warm cloak. There’s been a sea change; the wind’s brisk and the swells are high.”
It was dusk before the Dover cliffs came into view and Hawkhurst took advantage of the northeast wind to carry the ship southwest. The crew dropped the cargo near Romney, where the crates would be carried into the salt marsh on the tide. He then took theSeahawk back out to sea and once more let the wind take her. Then he turned so his ship could sail into Rye from the opposite direction.
Down in the hold, his first mate opened a heated barrel of tar. The acrid odor obliterated any trace of the chocolate fragrance. Falcon dropped anchor at the Rye Bay Customs House, swung over the rail, and hailed one of Carswell’s men. He followed Hawkhurst aboard and they took a lantern below for a cursory inspection of the hold. When they emerged, Carswell was standing on the deck.
“You’re too late, Tom. I’ve already bribed your man here.” Falcon winked. “For a bottle of French brandy he turned over his cutlass and offered to throw in his sister.”
Carswell didn’t laugh. “I must perform my duty, Lord Hawkhurst. Have you any goods to declare?”
“Not a herring.” He handed him the lantern and jerked his thumb toward the hold. “Be my guest. Speaking of sisters, I took mine for a sail to the Isle of Wight yesterday before the autumn gales threaten. Lord Carisbrooke invited us to the castle. Confidentially, he’s looking for a bride, but Tory isn’t keen.”
“Good evening, Mr. Carswell.” Victoria had put off her cloak to catch his eye. “You conduct yourself with such authority, sir, it quite takes my breath away. May I accompany you while you inspect the ship?”
“Mistress Palmer, it would be an honor.” He held the lantern high and moved toward the hold. “Mind your step, my dear.”
On the stairs she took his arm and held it tightly as if she were afraid of falling. “Ugh, why do ships always smell of tar?”
“Ship’s timbers are caulked with tar to keep them waterproof. ’Tis a necessary evil, I’m afraid.”
“Like customs officers,” she said sweetly.
“We are necessary, but hardly evil, my dear.”
She threw him a mischievous glance. “I’m teasing you, Thomas.” Tory went back up the steps ahead of him, affording him a generous glimpse of her trim ankles. “Goodnight, Mr.
Carswell. Falcon, do hurry and haul up the anchor, I’m freezing to death.”
“Good night, Carswell. Your vigilance is commendable.” Falcon picked up Tory’s cloak and draped it about her shoulders. “And your cockteasing is shameless,” he murmured.
Tory stood at the ship’s rail as it glided up the river
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