The Wayward One (The De Montforte Brothers Book 5) by Danelle Harmon

knocking.
    His father was shaking his head. “Of all people in England to abduct, this arrogant rascal had to choose the Duke of Blackheath’s sister. The Duke of Blackheath ? My God! There’s not a man in England I’d be less inclined to want as an enemy. Lord Sandwich himself came to me with this letter, and I don’t often see him, the First Lord of the Admiralty, looking nervous, but he was as white as the hair of my wig, and y’know why, Larry? Because he’s thinking he doesn’t want Blackheath as an enemy, either.” He reached under his desk, opened a drawer, and slammed a half-consumed bottle of gin onto the desk, then went back to rooting for a glass. “I am assigning you the frigate Happenstance . She’s here in London, already fitted out for another mission which isn’t one iota as important as this one, and fully manned. You’ll need a swift, well-armed ship that’ll be more than a match for anything the Frogs might send against you in case they decide to shelter or protect this scoundrel. Bring the explosive and make the exchange. And bring back not only the lady, but the rascal who abducted her as well, preferably with his head on the end of a pike.” The thin mouth tightened as he looked up through the knobs of flesh that supported his graying eyebrows, pinning his son with a look of intent. “Is that understood?”
    Larry got to his feet and snapped off a salute. “Consider it done,” he said, thinking how nice “Sir Lawrence” sounded, and turning on his heel, swiftly exited the office.
    There was not a moment to lose.
    * * *
    Nerissa’s fears about where Captain O’ Devir would spend the night had been unfounded.
    After the poor seaman had fallen from the rigging yesterday and been brought below, she had felt overwhelmed by both her situation, the lingering effects of her fall, and the near-horror of what she had just witnessed. Though the protection of Captain O’ Devir was dubious, that of his crew was even more so and when, after a quarter hour had passed and he still hadn’t returned, she had retreated to the cabin and spent the rest of the afternoon napping in his cot. Night had fallen. A boy had come in to light a lantern and bring her a tray with something on it that might have been food, and she had been left alone once more.
    And now it was morning. Her second one here.
    Maybe, just maybe, that Irish rogue was just a little bit honorable, after all. He could have come into the cabin and had his way with her last night. But he had not.
    She had spent the night alone.
    She felt an unwelcome softening toward him. Far better to loathe him. To consider him the monster she wanted to believe him to be, even though reason and the soothing glow of daylight told her that no monster would have risked his life to save a drowning seaman, and no monster would have left her untouched while she was alone and vulnerable in his cabin.
    But one couldn’t stay in a cabin forever.
    And she was hungry.
    Her stomach growling, Nerissa tried the door to the cabin and found it unlocked. It opened onto the deck and hesitantly, she stepped out into the sunshine.
    Salt-laced wind, the plunging up-and-down of the ship, the hiss of spray against the bows, the taste of it in the air. It was a glorious morning and she felt good, very good, to be alive. She saw a group of rough-looking, pigtailed seamen leaning backwards on a line that led aloft, bracing a sail under the watchful eye of Lieutenant Morgan. A few others sat in the shadow of the foremast some distance away, mending a sail. They grinned and elbowed each other at her appearance, making no secret of the fact that they found her presence here amusing at best and an imposition at worst. Captain O’ Devir was nowhere to be seen, and she wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or not.
    She looked around her, wondering what to do with herself. She could watch the crew go about their various collective and individual duties, but she did not want to get in