Never Trust a Pirate by Anne Stuart Page A

you see her with her hair down? I thought you said she’d just started to work there?”
    “None of your business.”
    “It’s my business if you want me to find out who she is. If she’s an easy piece that makes a difference.”
    “She’s not. She’s either a virgin or close to it.”
    “Hmmm. Not too many of them in my line of work.”
    “And what exactly is your line of work?”
    Wart grinned at him. “Purveyor of information. But a pretty dark-haired semi-virgin isn’t giving me enough to go on. You got anything else?”
    “She’s got interesting eyes,” he said slowly, suddenly remembering them. “A very dark blue. I think I’ve seen those eyes before, in another… hell and damnation!” Memory flooded back, and with it a powerful fury that swept over him, rendering him almost speechless.
    “You’ve remembered?”
    “I’m going to kill her,” Luca said grimly. How had she managed to trick him? How had she thought she could get away with it? They knew enough people in common that she would have been recognized sooner or later. And why the hell was she doing it?
    “Not your lay, laddie.” Wart shook his head. “You’ve never been one for murder unless it was necessary, and I don’t see you killing a woman. You don’t even hit ’em when they deserve it. Who is she?”
    “Eustace Russell’s daughter,” he said bitterly. “I saw her a few years ago at the christening of one of his ships. I don’t know which one she was—he had several of them.”
    “Ships? Or daughters?”
    “Both,” Luca said in a dark voice. “But what the hell would she be doing pretending to be a maid? And in my household?”
    “Leave that part up to me. It’ll be dead easy to get the rest now that you’ve remembered. I’m guessing she didn’t see you at the time?”
    He shook his head. “I was too far away, and she was too busy being Russell’s little princess.” He made an effort to tamp down the anger that suffused him. “I remember that he used to bring one of his daughters with him on occasion, though he never brought her around me.”
    Wart snorted with laughter. “That surprises you? He wouldn’t want his precious cargo in the hands of a bad ’un like you. She’d take one look and fall madly in love.”
    “Not that I noticed,” he said drily. “She wasn’t cut out for docility or domestic work. No wonder I had the feeling she’d just as soon stick a knife in my back as look at me. Though she did kiss me back,” he added, more to himself than to Wart.
    “Kissed you back? You told me the girl had just arrived. You work fast, laddie.”
    He wished he could find the humor in it. “I always have. Faster ’n you, in the old days.”
    “Yeah, but I didn’t let the press gangs get me,” Wart shot back. “So what are you going to do about this?”
    “Kick her out on her arse,” he said darkly.
    “Before you know why she’s there?”
    “I know why she’s there. His daughters insisted their sainted father could never have done such a terrible thing.”
    “Remind me—what terrible thing did he do?”
    “Embezzled all the cash from the company he started and ran off. Died in a carriage accident a little too close to Plymouth and Devonport for my piece of mind. They must think I had something to do with the old man’s death.”
    “Did you?”
    He gave Wart a look. “You just said it—I’ve never been much for unnecessary killing.” He frowned, thinking back to that night.
    “So are the daughters right? Not about you, but their father? You think the man was set up?”
    He was remembering it far too well, now. Russell’s appearance at his door, the flood of crazy accusations. He’d thought it was a brain fever, particularly when he’d heard the old man had driven his coach off a cliff. And then he’d forgotten about it, putting all his focus on getting his hands on the ships. “I have no idea.”
    Wart shrugged his narrow shoulders. “I’ll see what else I can find out for you.