The Rogue’s Prize by Katherine Bone Page A

had never needed to ask for
    his assistance on this particular mission.
    He was the first to comprise his crew,
    the first to communicate with Whistler,
    Nelson’s agent behind enemy lines.
    Though Whistler’s identity remained
    secret from everyone but Simon, Percy
    believed the mole would be the driving
    force behind the capture of Celeste’s
    killer. When the ill-timed message came
    stating that the Octavia was carrying
    precious cargo meant for the fox, Frink
    had jumped at the chance to claim the
    Octavia . No one doubted the captain
    meant to stash the cargo for himself.
    Others, including Simon and himself,
    believed Frink meant to deliver the
    bounty to his benefactor, the man pulling
    his purse strings. Is it any wonder that
    Frink was blindsided by the only thing
    aboard worth pilfering, Lady Constance?
    Was she the cargo meant for the fox?
    Did she have knowledge of the mole’s
    identity?
    He’d gone against Frink to save
    Constance’s life and cast his mission
    into dangerously uncharted waters. Lady
    Constance was a hindrance to his cause.
    Her very presence in his cabin was
    further evidence he’d been so long
    without civilized companionship that he
    was easily blinded by desires of the
    flesh.
    He had to refocus, turn his energy
    back to his quest. Frink was alive! Held
    in chains below, providing him a way to
    discover the source of the captain’s
    fiendish byplay. And as he sailed north
    to return Constance home, he still had
    time to question Frink about Josiah

Cane’s whereabouts and his connection
    to the fox. Percy smiled. At last, he had
    something to look forward to. Even if it
    was the last thing he ever did.
    Steeling himself against the sway of
    the Striker as it cut through rough water,
    Percy nodded at Jacko, who appeared
    like clockwork at his side.
    “There be a storm brewing. Will
    you be needing your sextant, sir?”
    “Aye, Jacko. We’re in for more
    than we bargained for, if my suspicions
    are correct.”
    Percy lifted the mechanism to his
    eye and gazed out upon the expanse
    before them, relishing the breeze that
    tangled his unbound hair. Something
    twinged deep in his gut, a nagging
    question he couldn’t quite answer. What
    were the odds that Lady Constance
    would be on the very ship Whistler had
    identified to Frink?
    “Jacko?” he asked. Between them,
    he and Jacko had experienced enough
    deception that a scenario like this
    wouldn’t come as a surprise.
    “Aye, Captain.”
    “Where’s Frink now?”
    “In the hold, sir. We figured, if we
    wanted him to make it to London alive,
    we’d have to segregate him from his
    crew.” Jacko’s brow rose comically and
    he nodded his approval. “Many of the
    Octavia ’s men offered to guard him.”
    Percy quirked his brow. “With
    good intentions, no doubt?”
    “I’m sure that be the way of it, sir,”
    Jacko agreed with an impetuous smirk.
    “Alert
    the
    guards,
    I’ll
    be
    questioning the captain in a few hours.”
    “Aye,
    sir.
    Has
    something
    happened?”
    “I’ve
    encountered
    some
    new
    information,” he said, unwilling to
    divulge anything more at the moment.
    Jacko sucked in his breath. “Tell
    me the girl isn’t involved, sir.”
    Percy wished someone would tell
    him the very same thing. Lifting the
    sextant to eye-level, Percy scanned the
    horizon, and then calculated their current
    position. They’d attacked the Octavia at
    the English Channel’s widest girth. The
    wind was steady with occasional gusts
    that hinted a storm brewed just over the
    horizon. With a good wind, it would take
    eight days to reach London. Lowering
    the v-shaped contraption, he stared at the
    horizon with contempt, the futility of
    their situation hitting him full force.
    They’d be lucky if they beat the storm.
    Jacko seemed to read his thoughts.
    “We’ll get her home, sir.”
    “That’s not the only thing I’m
    worried about, Jacko,” he confided. He
    pointed to the horizon. “We’ll need
    every hand available to