Heart's Safe Passage Read Free

sister-in-law.”
    Rafe hadn’t sworn in front of a lady since he was fifteen and said something unacceptable in his mother’s hearing. Though he’d been twice her size already, she grabbed him by his hair queue and dragged him to her boudoir, where she proceeded to wash his mouth out with lavender soap. He had been vilely sick, to this day couldn’t bear the scent of lavender, and watched his tongue around females of all ages and social rank.
    Until that moment.
    The words slipped out unbidden, not repented. More crowded into his throat. He swallowed them down and clamped his teeth shut to stem a surge of burning in his throat.
    “It couldn’t be helped,” Jordy repeated. “You said to ensure Mrs. Chapman didn’t change her mind about joining us, and she said she must have this one with her.”
    Another thud hit the deck. Rafe glanced toward the source, brows raised in query.
    “Along with her cabin stores,” Jordy added. “Should I be taking this one down to your cabin?”
    “Aye.” It was all Rafe dared say.
    He rose and turned his back on the boat crew and their cargo. If he counted to one hundred—nay, one thousand—he might not toss his first mate overboard. He might not assign the other four men to the worst duties on the brig—scrubbing decks and cleaning bilges.
    No, that would take counting to two thousand.
    With a measured gait, he paced to the prow, stood gripping the forestay for balance. At that moment, he could have ripped it away from its belaying pins and yards with one twist of his wrist.
    “Phoebe Lee indeed.” He ground the name between his teeth.
    Mrs. Phoebe Carter Lee, widow. Wealthy widow with a somewhat cloudy reputation because of how she’d spent the past four years of her life. When Rafe had slipped ashore in Williamsburg to find Belinda Chapman, more than one man in the waterfront taverns mentioned the Chapman lady’s sister-in-law, who had likely driven her husband to his death, then allied herself with some interesting people on the eastern shore. One interesting person in particular. Possibly the one person in America Rafe feared.
    No amount of counting drove away his desire to send Jordy McPherson sailing headfirst off the crosstrees for coming within ten yards of Phoebe Lee, let alone trussing her up like a Christmas goose and hauling her aboard his majesty’s privateer Davina . Counting did, however, afford him a measure of control. He managed to uncurl his hand from the stay and stride aft.
    “Winch that cutter aboard, then up anchor,” he directed the men on watch. “Set course for the Atlantic. This storm is going to get worse, and we need to be out of the Chesapeake before daybreak. And keep Mel and Fiona below until I say otherwise.”
    He didn’t wait to see if his orders would be obeyed. He took the companionway ladder in two steps and shoved open his cabin door.
    Light from two swinging lanterns blazed into his eyes. He closed the door behind him and leaned his shoulders against it. “Are you going to offer her to Cook to cook up for tomorrow’s dinner, Jordy, or cut her bonds?”
    Across the cabin, upon the comfortable bunk he intended to give up for the voyage for Mrs. Chapman’s convenience, the still bound and gagged Mrs. Lee met his glance with green eyes that blazed like sunlight through stained glass. Green eyes, hair like moonlight reflected in gold.
    Rafe’s stomach seized up, and he ripped his gaze away to settle on Mrs. Chapman. “Are you a’right, madam?”
    “Yes, but I want him to free Phoebe.” Mrs. Chapman huddled on the window seat beneath the stern lights. She wore a woolen cloak large enough to fit two of her, and her dark hair tumbled around her shoulders, giving her the appearance of a girl of ten rather than a woman of—what? Twenty?
    Rafe smiled at her. “I apologize for your companion’s rough treatment. Jordy, free Mrs. Lee, then see to navigating us out of the bay.”
    “Do you think I should, Captain?” Jordy looked