Surrender Read Free

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with a black hull and black sails. Five men stood on the deck, reaching for the
cask as it was lowered toward them.
    She had found the Sea Wolf.
    She halted, panting and out of breath. Two men were operating
the winch. A third stood a bit apart, watching the activity. Moonlight played
over his pale hair.
    And she was seized from behind.
    “Nous voulons seulement vous parler.” We
only want to speak to you.
    Evelyn whirled to face the two men who had been following her.
They were her own age, dirty, unkempt and poorly clothed—they were probably
farmworkers and thugs. “Libérez-moi,” she responded
in perfect French.
    “A lady! A lady dressed as a maid!” the first man said, but he
did not speak with relish now. He spoke with suspicion.
    Too late, she knew she was in more danger than the threat of
being accosted—she was about to be unmasked as a noblewoman and, perhaps, as the
Countess D’Orsay. But before she could respond, a stranger said, very quietly,
in English, “Do as the lady has asked.”
    The farmers turned, as did Evelyn. The clouds chose that moment
to pass completely by the moon, and the night became momentarily brighter.
Evelyn looked into a pair of ice-cold gray eyes and she froze.
    This man was dangerous.
    His stare was cold and hard. He was tall, his hair golden. He
wore both a dagger and a pistol. Clearly, he was not a man to be crossed.
    His cool glance left her and focused on the two men. He
repeated his edict, this time in French. “Faites comme la
dame a demandé.”
    She was instantly released, and both men whirled and hurried
off. Evelyn inhaled, stunned, and turned to the tall Englishman again. He might
be dangerous, but he had just rescued her—and he might be Jack Greystone. “Thank
you.”
    His direct gaze did not waver. It was a moment before he said,
“It was my pleasure. You’re English.”
    She wet her lips, aware that their gazes were locked. “Yes. I
am looking for Jack Greystone.”
    His eyes never changed. “If he is in port, I am not aware of
it. What do you want of him?”
    Her heart sank with dismay—for surely, this imposing man, with
his air of authority and casual power, was the smuggler. Who else would be
watching the black ship as it was being loaded? “He has come recommended to me.
I am desperate, sir.”
    His mouth curled, but there was no humor in his eyes. “Are you
attempting to return home?”
    She nodded, still staring at him. “We had arrangements to leave
at dawn. But those plans have fallen by the wayside. I was told Greystone is
here. I was told to seek him out. I cannot linger in town, sir.”
    “We?”
    She hugged herself now, still helplessly gazing into his stare.
“My husband and my daughter, sir, and three friends.”
    “And who gave you such information?”
    “Monsieur Gigot—of the Abelard Inn.”
    “Come with me,” he said abruptly, turning.
    Evelyn hesitated as he started toward the ship. Her mind raced
wildly. She did not know if the stranger was Greystone, and she wasn’t certain
it was safe to go with him now. But he was heading for the ship with black
sails.
    He glanced back at her, without pausing. And he shrugged,
clearly indifferent as to whether she came or not.
    There was no choice. Either he was Greystone, or he was taking
her to him. Evelyn ran after him, following him up the gangplank. He didn’t look
at her, crossing the deck rapidly, and Evelyn rushed to fall into step behind
him. The five men who were loading the cask all turned to stare openly at
her.
    Her hood had slipped. She pulled it up more tightly as he went
to a cabin door. He opened it and vanished inside. She faltered. She had just
noticed the guns lining the sides of the ship. She had seen smuggling ships as a
child; this ship seemed ready to do battle.
    She was even more dismayed and full of dread, but she had made
her decision. Evelyn followed him inside.
    He was lighting lanterns. Not looking up, he said, “Close the
door.”
    It crossed her