Linna : Historical Romance (The Brocade Collection, Book 5) Read online

  “I’ll stand, thank you.”

  The words were politely spoken, but quiet. He watched Fletcher’s jaw harden as the man clenched his teeth together.

  “Fine. I’ll sit.”

  Rex Fletcher was a tall, lean man, whose thin frame disguised his strength. Although four-plus inches shorter than Cord and easily 80 pounds lighter, he was still a tough man to best at games of strength. He was impossible to beat at games of chance. Fletcher always stacked the odds in his favor before he made any challenge. And then he cheated.

  Cord watched as Fletch situated himself behind the massive wooden desk that was probably carved for some Spaniard, since it had been stolen from a vessel bound for Spain. The piece was overpowering where it sat, just as it was intended to be. Out of the corner of his eye Cord saw the movement of the room’s other occupants. He only sensed the continual vigil of Simons and where he stood. It wasn’t important. The small Frenchman wasn’t the type to fight and never had been. If it hadn’t been for the man’s ability to procure almost anything, he’d have been eliminated years ago. Besides, he was Cord’s man.

  Cord rubbed a pistol butt absently.

  “I asked you to do one small thing...and I paid you. One thing! It should have been easy, but did you do what I required? No. What am I to do with you now?”

  “I won’t kill for you,” Cord answered in little more than a whisper.

  Fletch sighed loudly. “Pirates always kill.”

  “Who says anything about piracy?” Cord replied after a moment.

  “Once a pirate always a pirate, lad.”

  Cord’s eyes narrowed. “I still won’t kill for you.”

  “You’ll rape, pillage and plunder, won’t you?”

  “I never raped.”

  Fletcher’s lips twitched. “Most likely true. You didn’t have to. The women flung themselves at you. Always.”

  Cord swallowed, using the motion to still his tongue.

  “It isn’t because you’re so pretty, lad. You’re just the best option when faced with men like us.” Fletcher opened his arms wide to encompass the room.

  Cord spoke through his teeth. It made his voice hard. “You gave me eight weeks.”

  “Don’t remind me.” Fletcher’s mouth curved into a smile. “Find the whiskey, Blight. Make yourself useful.” The loud words made the man at Fletcher’s back jump, before he moved as he’d been bidden.

  Cord could feel his shoulders relaxing. He eased the strap back over the pistol butt as Fletcher took out a wicked-looking knife.

  “You know....” The man spoke more to his knife blade than anyone else, “it’s been six weeks already. I thirst for revenge...it grows stronger each day...and you delay it!” He impaled the desk top at the end of his statement. Cord glanced down at the swaying of the knife before returning to Fletcher’s face. “You do know how that feels...no?”

  “That isn’t why I took the gold,” Cord replied.

  Fletcher barked out a mirthless laugh. “I know why you took the gold. It wasn’t because I offered double. I saw your face when I brought out the little locket...remember?”

  Cord’s hand moved of its own accord to caress where the locket hung. “You still gave me eight weeks,” he replied as if this phrase was the only one he knew how to speak. He willed the flush from existence. He guessed he hadn’t been successful when Fletcher snorted and sat back.

  “You’ll have them, too. Then we’ll see. You fail me and I wouldn’t sleep too deeply if I were you.”

  “I never fail,” Cord said.

  “By God, I believe you. Blight!” Fletcher bellowed it, surprising the other man at Cord’s back. “Where’s my whiskey? I should have hired a Spaniard. They’re more malleable than the French. What do you think?”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “You keep a Frenchman and you wouldn’t know?”

  “That depends on what you mean by the word...keep.”

  Fletcher snorted again. “You got a woman?”

  “I got lots of women. Dangling from every rooftop.”

  Fletcher was going to be smiling yet with the way his lips kept twitching. “I mean a special one. The kind that’ll have a man crossing hell just for a taste of her lips and a glance from her eyes. That kind of woman.”

  “There’s no such thing,” Cord told him.

  “Good lad. Keep it that way.”

  “You trying to tell me this Daniels wench is special?” Cord asked.

  “No. I’m trying to warn you.”

  “About what? Women?” Cord rolled the sigh of disgust over his lips. “I’ll take my chances.”

  “About getting a special one. And then trying to keep her. Near kills a man.” Rex Fletcher closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them he was looking at his knife still planted in the desktop.

  “Does it now?” Cord asked.

  “A special woman like that has power. The power to take a man’s guts and twist them ’til he bleeds. Then she’ll betray him. That’s what she’ll do.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “You get a woman like that - you do one thing, you hear?”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Keep her close. Don’t let her wander. Ever. Make sure there’s no man put in her shadow. And then kill every bit of emotion you ever thought of having for her when she betrays you. Every bit of it! If that don’t work, start planning your revenge. That’s what you do. Every hour. Every day. Always.”

  “We talking about a particular special woman here?” Cord asked.

  Rex’s eyes moved from the knife to Cord’s face, and he lost that far-away look. “No. We’re talking about one woman. And your failure to do what I paid you to do with her. That’s what we’re talking of. That’s all we’re talking of.”

  “Right. And I still have two weeks.”

  The meeting was going badly but that was Cord’s fault. He’d had her gifted to him the last time they were at port, just inside Daniels’ land. He’d let her go. They all knew it. He didn’t need a re-telling of it.

  “Two weeks is not much time,” Fletch remarked.

  “For what you require, a night’s enough.”

  “But she’s not to be hurt. I’ll kill you if she’s hurt.”

  This part of the bargain still baffled Cord. Rex Fletcher ordering such a deed didn’t surprise him. He was as hard-hearted as they came. But his demand for her pleasure, that was puzzling.

  “I don’t understand why you don’t just kill him. It wouldn’t be hard. He’s rarely guarded. Whereas with her? Like a fortress.”

  “Because it would be too easy. He’s not getting anything easy from me!” Fletcher responded, eyes ablaze.

  “But why ruin an innocent for her father’s sins?” Cord asked as Blight shimmied around the desk, carrying two bottles of whiskey. It seemed important to him all of a sudden to get to the reason behind his employer’s request.

  Fletcher slammed both hands against the desk top, stopping Blight. “Because killing him isn’t enough!” His face contorted with pain and searing anger. “Taking the only thing he loves will be! Taking it and ruining it and making sure he knows how that feels! That’s why. He’s going to live with his failure every moment of his life. Every damn one of them!”

  He emphasized his point by pulling his knife free of the wood and notching out a portion in the process. Cord watched it. He knew Rex Fletcher’s tale. They all did. They’d had years together to hear the tale of innocence and revenge; because only innocent souls get impressed into British Naval Service. And only innocent men mutiny against that kind of purgatory.

  Cord pursed his lips. It didn’t matter. Fletcher deserved his vengeance. Cord tried to tell himself that was the reason he’d taken the gold Fletch was paying. That and it moved him a giant step closer to enacting his own plans. It chafed that the other reason had been seen.

  Cord had tried to hide his reaction to the one likeness of Miss Daniels that Fletcher had dangled before him on a gold chain. The sad
ness and hint of innocence contained in her painted image had lanced right into him. Something deep inside him rebelled at Fletcher’s need to despoil her for his own ends. Cord had taken the assignment because he couldn’t bear any of the others to have it.

  “This job I agreed to. It’s not going to be easy. I’ll need more money.”

  “More?” Fletcher’s eyebrows raised. “Good thing I have a captain’s portion of the haul. And some I stashed. Years past.”

  Cord didn’t react. “Daniels must suspect something. He’s moved her to the new section of town and keeps her so well guarded, she’s only been seen out once. Once.”

  “Your two weeks feeling a bit shorter, are they?”

  Fletch chuckled and Cord felt the nerve pulsing at the side of his jaw before he answered. “It’s going to take planning and cunning.”

  “Planning and cunning are my life, boy. What have you in mind?”

  “She may accept an invite to a ball. The Larroquettes have a mansion they ignore. In the Vieux Carre. It hasn’t been opened in years. You add that up.”

  “The French Quarter, eh? You don’t say...you want me to set up a ball at the Larroquette mansion? In what - two weeks?”

  “Not up to it?” Cord taunted.

  “Any reason to choose that particular estate?”

  “It’s empty. Never used. I just told you.”

  “Interesting. Can you pass for a French aristocrat in exile?”

  “I can pass for anything I need to,” Cord answered.

  Fletcher grunted. “Don’t wander off. We’ll be in touch. A week. Give me a week.”

  Cord stalked out, inhaling deeply of freedom-filled air. He ignored the shiver up his back, as well as the small Frenchman at his heels. Rex Fletcher was guilty. They all were. Every last man who’d done his time with the British Navy, and every last one of them that had turned to piracy in order to escape it.

  “Simons?” Cord spoke softly but he knew the little man would be at his shoulder.

  “Oui?”

  “You able to craft me a costume? In a week? One I can pass as an exiled French aristocrat in?”

  “I was a tailor. I am very handy with a needle. Actually I am very handy, period.”

  “That’s why I keep you around.”

  “You keep me around because you need someone to abuse. This is why. I have no illusions on that score, Monsieur.”

  “Nobody has you chained in place,” Cord replied.

  “I think you need to worry more about getting those brigands into a shape where they can pass for real servants. That’s what I think.”

  Cord smiled. That was Fletcher’s worry. All he had to do was show up.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Wait.”

  Drake’s fingers on her elbow were more persuasive than his command. He probably knew it. That’s why he did it. Linna glanced at where he was gripping her and then back at him.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “I did what you wanted. Now it’s your turn.”

  “You dressed in fancy dress and sat in a carriage with me.”

  “I still did it. And without me, you don’t get in.”

  Linna smiled slyly. “I’m already in.”

  “Right. So, that means I already did what you wanted. You can attend me a moment. It won’t hurt your little husband-hunting plan.”

  Linna’s intake of breath was the only sign she gave that what he said meant something. That, and the fact that she was following Drake Taggett down the hall away from the gaiety instead of toward it.

  “Someone is going to see us,” she whispered.

  “No, they aren’t.”

  He stopped, looked behind them since the black hall in front of them was obviously empty, and then twisted a doorknob. It was locked. As was the next and the next. At the bend in the hall, they could both see there were no more doors. All that remained was gloom.

  And the faint strains of music.

  “What do know about my plan, Drake?” Linna hissed.

  “Give me my payment first.”

  “You escorted me to a ball. I’m not paying for that.”

  “And I paid for a gown and all the flimsy underthings you’re wearing underneath it. Me. Drake Taggett. You owe me.”

  “Any brother would do that.”

  “I’m not your brother!”

  She used to think he was handsome. Now, with his face looming out of the shadow, she couldn’t imagine a more repulsive expression.

  “I’m no relation at all. Am I?”

  “What do you want, Drake?” Linna tried again, and this time the skin of her elbow smarted when she tried to twist away.

  “The same thing I’ve always wanted. A kiss. Then more.”

  Her heart had her answer that time as it fluttered, echoing her fear. “No,” she said.

  “No? Why not? Every other woman says yes.”

  “You’re a snake, Drake Taggett.”

  He laughed at her words. Then he tried to pull her into an embrace that made her stomach lurch.

  “You don’t need to find a husband. You got me.” He was whispering it. “You always got me, Linna. I’ll take care of you. You’ll never want for a thing.”

  “No, Drake. No!” If there hadn’t been a ball going on in this very mansion - an event that had been talked of for days and probably included the entire city of New Orleans on the guest list - Linna would have been screaming. But scandal was already stuck to her like a bayou leech. The last thing she wanted was a scene. The sounds of harsh breathing, muffled curses, and her beautiful gown tearing took its place. And that was more than she was taking from him. Linna pulled back and kneed him in the groin. Hard.

  She was instantly free, the release causing her to stumble backward until she glanced off an object in the hall. The rattling sound was long and loud. Linna held her breath, but there wasn’t any change in the music and conversation noise still emanating down the hall.

  “What...did you do...that for?” He was bent forward and wheezing.

  “I told you no. I meant it.”

  “Christ.”

  Linna stood straight, sent trembling fingers all over her gown, looking for any damage and had to trust that what she’d heard was the ripping of an inner seam. Nothing felt out of place. Nothing was changed.

  And yet, everything was.

  “You go...in that room...I’m not going with you. No one will believe you’re innocent.” Drake was still panting through the words.

  “I haven’t done anything, Drake Taggett. Of course I’m innocent.”

  “You don’t look innocent.” He was straightening into a slight stoop, and his breathing appeared to be coming easier as well.

  “There’s nothing out of place. And I don’t need you. I’ll gird that room on my own if I must.”

  He snickered. “You do that...and you’ll fail. No man will have you.”

  Linna lowered her chin and narrowed her eyes. She couldn’t believe she’d ever found him handsome. “I will not fail. A Daniels never fails.”

  “Tell that to my wife.”

  “That’s right, Drake. Your wife. My sister. She’d not appreciate the way you escort me, now would she?”

  “You expect me to take you in there and then watch as you prostitute yourself for a piece of paper and a ring?”

  Her indrawn breath was the only sign she gave. Then, she let it go. He was fairly accurate with his wording, but with a bluntness she’d rather ignore. “No. I expect you to act like a brother and escort me in and then wait patiently while I dance with eligible men. That’s what I expect. That’s all I expect.”

  His lips curled into a sneer. “You’re just going to have to change your plans then, because I’m not going with you.”

  Linna tossed a lock of hair over her shoulder and lifted her chin. “You’d really leave me stranded at a ball? With no escort? Is that what you’re threatening?”

  She must not have hurt him too badly. He’d managed to reach his full height again, well abo
ve her. He was also smiling but it wasn’t with mirth. “I’m a lover, not a fighter. There are plenty of willing women who crave what I offer.”

  “I’m sure my sister finds that a very charming trait in her husband,” she replied.

  Her answer was a snarl of sound, and then he pushed right past her. Linna watched him go, held her breath for a moment as he paused at the ballroom entrance, and released it as he went right past. And then he walked right out the door, turning her original plan to dust, and giving her no other option than hatching another one.

  Linna blinked, felt the scratch of her lids on tearless, dry eyes. Plan two wasn’t going to happen by itself. The thought straightened her shoulders and put her back on task. She lifted her gaze from the floor and looked again at every single gentleman in the room, giving them a long enticing look and waiting to make certain it was returned before moving on. That remnant of her original plan was so easy: get noticed. Get noticed and be desired. Every man in the room had looked at her at least twice, even the ineligible ones. And they were only ineligible because they already had a wife.

  Every other man was fair game.

  Linna moved her gaze to the next gentleman and waited for the eye contact she took as her due, to see if he was worth ensnaring. Ensnare was a better word than what she was actually planning. The word for that was entrapment. That was the real description for the new plan. Otherwise, she was going to have to go with the only other option she had: Luthor Evans. She caught sight of his head and quickly turned away.

  Unless she had no other choice, it wasn’t going to be Luthor.

  Linna went back to work, caught and held the gaze of what could only be a full-fledged Creole. That was fairly bold. Even thinking she’d be able to advance her cause with such a man was bold. They studiously avoided contact with any person of another lineage, female or not, outcast or not. Linna didn’t care. If there was one thing she was, it was bold. She moved her eyes to the next gent. He wasn’t too difficult to gaze at. A bit darker than she liked, with swarthy features and a devilishly wicked-looking dimple that appeared magically before disappearing the moment the lady at his elbow noticed his distraction and tapped him with her fan. He would do. He would do nicely. He also appeared to be very fit in the long, elegant trousers that looked painted onto his legs.