Whatever he made of it.
Wherever he made it.
He glanced at Linnet, then looked ahead. Home, his uncle had told him, was wherever you chose to make it.
If fate allowed, he would choose to make his home with her.
With that certainty sinking to his bones, he stood beside her and watched her steer her ship into Plymouth Sound.
One thing he knew about was command. As the last of the daylight waned, and she sent the Esperance gliding past Drake Island, tacking through the many naval vessels riding at anchor in the protected waters, he harbored not a shred of doubt that Linnet was a natural leader. She could probably even teach him a thing or two about inspiring men-Tommy, Burton, and Calloway, the three young archers, would, he judged, be hers for life.
In that, they would only be joining the rest of the Esperance ’s crew. To a man, they were devoted to their captain.
Linnet steered the ship directly into Sutton Harbor, Plymouth’s principal basin. She called orders; once again at her elbow, Griffiths relayed them. Sails were furled, still others hooked in as the ship slowed, slowed, then, on the last gasp of wind spilling from canvas, was expertly turned to slide smoothly into an empty berth at Sutton Wharf.
The sandbags slung over the ship’s side bumped once, then again more softly as the Esperance settled. Straightening, pushing away from the rails, Logan swung down to the main deck, then went down the companionway to the stern cabin. He paused only to seize the handles of the two bags he’d left waiting there-Linnet’s as well as his-then headed back.
He felt no sentimentality over leaving the Esperance -no need to look around and fix anything in his memory. He would be back. As soon as his mission allowed. Of course, he might be, very possibly would be, groveling at Linnet’s dainty heels as she strode back on board, but he would be back. He hoped, he prayed.
Emerging on deck, he saw Linnet standing by the railing midship, watching the gangplank being rolled out. The ship had been secured and was now bobbing lazily on the swell. He glanced around, then out at the town as he walked to where Linnet waited, arms folded, beside the gap in the railings. The light was fading fast. Running lights flickered on many ships. In the town, lamps already glowed in many windows, and streetlamps were being lit.
Shadows were lengthening, deepening, prime concealment for watchers and assassins alike.
Halting at the head of the gangplank, directly in front of Linnet, he brought his gaze to her face-only to discover she’d noticed her bag in his hand.
She frowned, stabbed a finger at the bag. “That’s mine. Put it down.” Raising her eyes to his, she scowled. “You’re going on to complete your mission, and I’m sailing home on the Esperance . I’m not going ashore with you, not even just for the night.”
He dutifully set down the bags, both of them. Faced her, eye to eye, and said, “Today you foiled the Black Cobra’s men, and they got a good look at you. By now they know that Captain Linnet Trevission of the Esperance , a woman no less, defeated them, took on three ships and left them wallowing in her wake. Their master is not going to be happy-and they won’t be, either. For the safety of this ship, your crew, your household, your home-and most especially you yourself-you have to come with me.”
The truth, nothing but the truth.
Eyes narrowed, arms crossed even tighter, a barrier between him and her, she tartly-entirely predictably-replied, “I’m more than capable of taking care of myself and mine. All of mine.”
He heaved an exaggerated sigh and shifted closer. Lowered his voice so no one else could hear. Held her gaze as he said, “And who’s going to take care of me while I’m distracted, worrying about you?”
Another very real truth.
“What?” She looked genuinely surprised.
Which had him narrowing his eyes. “You heard. If you’re with me, I’ll know you’re safe. If you’re not… I’ll most likely fail in my mission because I’ll be distracted, concerned over you.”
Her eyes slitted to green shards. “No.” They were trading forceful whispers. “I am not falling for that. I don’t mean that much to you-not that much. Nothing you can say will convince me otherwise. I am not coming with you.”
He held her gaze. “That’s your last word?”
Linnet searched his eyes, trying to find some clue as to what he was up to. She saw nothing in the midnight blue beyond his usual relentless determination. She raised her chin. “Yes.”
“Very well.” Stepping back, he nodded to Edgar and Griffiths, standing to one side behind her. “I’ll send word.”
She was wondering what he meant by that-what word he would be sending to them-when, turning back to her, Logan ducked.
He angled his shoulder into her midriff and, before she could react, cleanly hoisted her over his shoulder, anchoring her legs against his chest with his right arm, in the same sweeping movement swiping up both of their bags in his other hand, then he turned and strode down the gangplank. Fast.
“What…?”
For one definable instant, she was speechless-utterly dumbfounded.
How dare he?
He swung off the gangplank and turned along the wharf, and she found her tongue. Cursed and swore using every invective, every colorful expletive she’d ever learned in all her years on board-an extensive litany that had no discernible effect whatever.
He actually chuckled.
She threatened him with castration, and he only lengthened his stride, rapidly crossing the wharf toward the old town and its narrow streets.
Fisting her right hand, she thumped on his back, hard. “Put me down this instant, you moron-I am not going with you.”
He jiggled her on his shoulder. “Watch out for my wound-you don’t want to burst your stitches, not after all your hard work.”
She swore, switched to her left hand, and thumped his other side. All but screeched, “ Logan! Enough! Put me down -or I’ll make it my duty to make the rest of your misbegotten life a misery!”
He halted, heaved a gigantic sigh, then, dropping their bags, finally grasped her waist and eased her down, sliding her down the front of his body until her toes neared the ground.
Before they did, he kissed her.
Kissed her in a way he never had before, with passion, yes, but it was passion leashed, held back so he could…
Woo her. Plead, persuade.
Beg.
Her hands came to rest on either side of his face, gently cupping. She couldn’t pull away, couldn’t stop herself from sensing, savoring, knowing.
When he finally lifted his head, hers was swimming, previous certainties fading, new questions rising.
He stared down into her eyes. “My life is already yours to do with as you please-to make it a misery, or even a living hell. Just as long as you’re alive to do that, I don’t care.”
His gaze lifted, scanning the wharf behind her, then he set her fully on her feet, seized her hand, and their bags. “Now behave, and come along.”
He towed her on, into a street she recognized as Looe Street. “Do you even know where you’re going?”
“Yes. I think.” He glanced back at her. “I haven’t been in Plymouth for years. The Seafarer’s Arms-it’s this way, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She grimaced as he pulled her along. As she let him. Resisting, knowing he’d only hoist her up again, didn’t seem worthwhile. But she did want to escape him… didn’t she?
Frowning, she glanced around. “This is nonsensical.” Night was closing in; there were few people around. “You can’t keep me with you against my will.”