Regency Vows. Kasey Michaels

manage to secure her title.

      The only thing he wanted to care about now was the wine reserve at Croston.

       CHAPTER TWELVE

      AFTERNOON SUNLIGHT STREAMED into Katherine’s cabin. She stood at her chest, waiting for Captain Warre to respond to a summons, remembering their conversation from the night before.

      Dunscore was hers by right. Did he imagine she would allow it to be stolen, when it could be used to Anne’s advantage?

      The top drawer of her chest held little that was fragile save a few pieces of glass and a porcelain dog with a pale coat, friendly face and inquisitive ears. She took him out, cradling him in her palm. He looked just like the harem dog, Zaki, and a pang touched her heart.

      This was not the kind of Barbary dog Captain Warre had meant.

      After everything that happened to you...

      He imagined she had lived as though in a bordello. Fool. Mejdan’s mother would never have allowed anything so wanton.

      She closed her hand around the figurine and squeezed her eyes shut, remembering the harem with a joy so fierce it hurt. The serenity of it on a warm morning with the desert breeze making silk curtains undulate and book pages flutter. Peals of laughter as Mejdan’s daughters speculated about potential husbands. The comforting taste of mint tea in the afternoon, the excitement of comparing new cloth and trinkets and bangles after a day at the market.

      They’d given her a home—Mejdan’s mother, Riuza, his wives, daughters, children—when they hadn’t needed to. If Mejdan hadn’t died, she might have stayed forever.

      All the reasons she had taken to the sea instead of returning to Britain after escaping Algiers coiled in a painful urge to order the ship back to the Mediterranean. All those reasons still existed. Nothing had changed. Captain Warre’s words proved that much.

      Nothing, except one very crucial truth: Dunscore was hers.

      She replaced the figurine, shut the drawer and listened. No footsteps yet.

      Her accession to Dunscore changed everything because of what it meant for Anne. Unlike the Possession, Dunscore could never succumb to pirate attack or wreck on a dangerous shoal. Unlike a house Katherine might purchase in France or Italy or the West Indies, Anne had roots at Dunscore that would lend legitimacy—however small—to her illegitimacy. Anne would be safe there, even after Katherine was gone.

      But only if Baron Taggart’s bill of attainder did not succeed. Which was why Phil was right—Captain Warre could be very, very useful.

      The glory of the sea. His bitterness whispered a quiet testimony she did not want to acknowledge. The great Captain Warre was not the man she’d expected.

      Thanks to my failures...

      She could not afford to think of what he considered his failure. That he apparently blamed himself for her fate only worked to her unexpected advantage. It was far easier to extract a debt from a man who understood that he owed one. That he appeared almost tortured over it only made exploiting him that much easier.

      She stopped in front of the looking glass, remembering the fury in his eyes. On an entirely different level, his remorse made everything more difficult. She watched herself lift a strand of her hair and caress it between her fingers.

      She dropped it as quickly as he had.

      For a long moment she simply stared at herself—her gold-brown eyes, her straight nose, her too-pinched mouth. The sea had weathered her skin so it was far from the creamy ideal expected in London. She leaned closer, examining a few fine lines around her eyes and the little crease above her lip.

      You’re so beautiful, Katie. Just like your mama. Papa’s opinions had always been biased. Mama had been exquisite. Everything a lady should be.

      On impulse Katherine unwrapped her turban and lifted her hair into her hands, twisting, holding the mass of it atop her head. In London there would be no more wearing her hair loose. A maid would concoct elaborate coiffures decorated with jewels and ribbons befitting a countess. She turned her head to one side, then the other, imagining the effect. She let her hair fall and picked up the shimmering ocher cloth, but dropped that, too, when a knock sounded at the door. She hadn’t heard the footsteps.

      She turned her back to the looking glass. “Come in.”

      Captain Warre opened the door and stepped inside. His gaze swept over her, darkening. “You asked to see me?”

      “Yes.” And her cabin was the only place that would assure privacy. She gestured him inside and shut the door behind him, ignoring a frisson that snuck up her spine. His gaze lingered on her more intensely than usual, and she cursed herself for removing her turban when she’d known he was coming. “I’ve thought of a way you can repay your debt to me,” she told him.

      “Oh?” A trace of humor on his lips told her his control would not slip today as it had last night. That was good because she didn’t want his pity or his remorse. She also didn’t want the desire smoldering in his eyes, but by now she knew better than to think it would disappear.

      The smile she gave him felt predatory, and she reveled in it. “No doubt it has occurred to you that you may be in a unique position to help me, given that your brother is the force behind the bill pending against me.”

      “It has occurred to me. But if the second reading has been put off—”

      “Can you guarantee the Lords won’t approve the second reading and quickly pass the bill?”

      His answer was a flash of irritation in his eyes.

      “But you could speak with your brother, Lord Taggart. Explain to him of the error of his ways.”

      “I assure you, Captain Kinloch, I have no objection to using my influence on your behalf. But nothing so tedious will be necessary. A word with Nick and any of his supporters, and I have no doubt the bill will be long forgotten.”

      “You think it will disappear so easily?” She fought back the desperation that threatened to creep into her voice.

      “I think it very likely that someone has devised a plan to take advantage of your absence and notoriety. Your return will likely cut the bill off at the knees.”

      Hope bloomed, but she didn’t dare snatch it up. “Or breathe new life into it,” she said. She went to her dressing table, shook her hair back and began rewinding her turban. “In which case, you will use your influence to make sure I am invited to all of the best events,” she told him, watching him in the looking glass. “Once we are there, you will dote on me most solicitously. We will tell the story of your rescue to everyone who wishes to hear it—” she smiled again “—and you will praise me endlessly as your savior.”

      His laughter was a devilish sound that resonated through the cabin. “Will I.”

      She continued winding the cloth, twisting and tightening as she went, ignoring his amusement. “If they are still sitting, there won’t be much time. The letter took nearly four months to find me, and we will have been over a month in sailing to England.”

      “I won’t need a month to help you resolve it.”

      “You can’t be certain of that. You know nothing more about the bill than I do.”

      “But I know a good deal more about the Lords, and about my brother.” He came up behind her, close enough that her stomach dipped the way it had when he’d touched her hair, but not close enough for him to do it again. “If my initial efforts seem unavailing, I will agree to your intriguing plan. And if I fail entirely, which I cannot imagine—” he paused “—I will provide assistance.” The look he gave her was the same one she’d seen last night when he’d spoken of his debt. The same one she’d seen in the hen coop. And she hated it.

      “Assistance?”