Regency Vows: A Gentleman 'Til Midnight / The Trouble with Honour / An Improper Arrangement / A Wedding By Dawn / The Devil Takes a Bride / A Promise by Daylight

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?” She finished the turban and turned her back to the looking glass.

“If you lose your estate, you will have my protection until other arrangements can be made.”

His protection? The word and all its implications fell carelessly from his lips. She met it with a laugh and raked him with her gaze. “I assure you, Captain Warre, I have no interest in your...protection.”

His mouth curved. “My apologies. It was not my intention to offer you a position as my mistress.” He returned her brazen physical assessment, his eyes lingering where they had no right to linger. “But the idea does have a certain appeal.”

A throb of heat pulsed uninvited through intimate places. “I have a fortune independent from Dunscore,” she said, waving away his offers of assistance and protection. “If I lose the estate—” the possibility struck her momentarily mute “—Anne and I will have no reason to stay in Britain at all. And your debt will remain unpaid.”

He closed the distance between them, all lithe muscle and power, his sea-blown hair giving him a ferocity she would likely never see again once they reached the civilized world of London. “If it doesn’t work—and I’m not saying it won’t—I’ll not live under this debt forever. My efforts will have to suffice, or you’ll have to accept some other form of payment.”

“There is no other form of payment,” she scoffed, laughing. “You have nothing that I need, Captain—except your celebrity.” She started to turn away. “If you’re not interested in my plan—” She cut off when his hand curled around her arm.

“If I am satisfied with my repayment,” he said with a tight smile, “it won’t matter what you need.”

“Let go of me.”

His green eyes bored into her, holding her as tightly as his hand. “This entire bargain is driven by my own sense of obligation.”

“Which I should have guessed was false.” Except she could see in his eyes it ran bone-deep, and even now he couldn’t quite hide it.

“Some debts cannot be repaid.”

“An excellent excuse for default, Captain,” she snapped. It was impossible to wrest out of his grasp, so she pushed him instead.

“Devil take it—” He lost his balance as the ship listed starboard, and for a moment she reeled with him, but almost immediately he regained his footing. In the next moment he pushed her against the wall and his mouth came down on hers with all the fury of an ocean tempest. She fought him, even as she opened her lips to drink him in. His kiss was half-crazed, fierce and possessive as the sea itself, surging through her blood in waves of desire unlike anything she’d ever felt.

She tried to tear away and they knocked over a chair. He crushed her to his body, backing her hard against the wall. He felt magnificent, and she hated him.

“Damn you!” She wanted him on her. Over her. In her.

Away from her.

He pushed up her tunic and found her breasts. She grabbed his shirt and felt the fabric tear, but the pleasure ripping through her body drowned all reason. She cried out with frustration. Outrage. Desire.

Something—maybe his knee—banged against the wall. His mouth seared into hers, out of control. They stumbled against the fallen chair and he kicked it out of the way.

Suddenly her cabin door flew open and crashed against the wall. She barely realized what was happening before William was there, tearing Captain Warre away from her.

“Bloody he—” Captain Warre’s furious oath was cut off when William’s fist landed across his jaw, sending him reeling.

“Bloody cur!” William caught Captain Warre by the shirt before he could fall and landed another hit across his jaw.

“No!” Katherine shouted her reaction an instant before regaining her senses. “William, stop! Enough!”

But William was beyond reason, and now it was Captain Warre whose back was to the wall as William drew his knife and held it to Captain Warre’s throat.

“William!” Katherine commanded sharply. “Let him go.”

Phil and India crowded into the doorway. “Katherine, are you all right?” Phil asked, her voice for once free of insinuation. Good God. They all thought he’d attacked her.

“You filthy bastard,” William spat, nose to nose with Captain Warre, who silently stared at him. “You couldn’t wait a few more days to slake your lust on someone who’s willing?”

“William!” Katherine repeated. “That’s enough. You misunderstand.”

Finally William looked at her. Only the ship and Captain Warre’s breathing made a sound as she met William’s eyes. She raised her chin a notch, but still a wash of heat spread across her face.

Phil’s comprehending voice filled the cabin. “Oh, dear.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“NOT A SINGLE WORD.” Katherine marched to the upper deck with Phil on her heels. “Not one.” It was probably the most futile order she’d ever given. Besides, Phil didn’t need words. Everything she was thinking was written plain as ink on her face.

Which was why Phil’s obedience was worse than anything she could have said. The silence stretched out, brimming with what had just happened below. Deep breaths of sea air didn’t cool the fire pounding through Katherine’s veins, and her body screamed to go downstairs and finish what Captain Warre had begun.

Captain Warre. Captain Warre. The reality of what she’d just done was a battering ram forcing entrance into her mind. She craved him the way Papa had craved fast horses—recklessly and without regard to the consequences. If William had not interrupted—

She would not think of that. Looking at Phil was out of the question, so she held her spyglass to her eye.

Finally she couldn’t stand it anymore. “Say it.”

Phil was silent a heartbeat longer. “I confess I don’t know what to say.” Humor edged Phil’s pretend dumbfoundedness. “Does this mean you’ll be moving him back to a cabin, after all?”

“It’s not too late to throw you overboard,” Katherine snapped.

Phil only laughed. “Yes, it is. I could swim to England from here.” The spyglass jolted as Phil tucked her hand into Katherine’s elbow. “You mustn’t be angry with yourself, dearest. Despite your better judgment, you find Captain Warre attractive—and understandably so.”

“He tried to kill me.” The resentment she’d clung to for years sounded ridiculous with his taste still heady on her tongue.

Phil ignored her. “The question is, what will you do about it once you arrive in London?” She lowered her voice. “An affair may work brilliantly to your advantage. What better to motivate him into championing your cause? Keep him hungering after your charms and see if he doesn’t press your case most urgently.”

“Your imagination has run wild.”

“Was it my imagination, or did Captain Warre have his hands inside your—”

“Enough!” Katherine pulled her arm from Phil’s grasp. “What you saw was not part of a master plan to whore myself for Dunscore. It was an accident.” A moment of weakness, after she’d worked so hard to be strong. She focused her spyglass on the distant ribbon of land they’d been paralleling. “I hate him.” She hated what he stood for, what he made her remember—the person she’d been when he’d fired on the Merry Sea. Vulnerable. Terrified. At the mercy of others, in so many ways.

“Then use him and be done with him,” Phil suggested in all seriousness.

The desire to see him, to touch him, seemed to have a life of its own. The kiss had turned the whole thing into a damnable mess that had to be stopped before it went any further. She lowered the spyglass. “He believes a few words to the right people will turn the bill under. There will be little reason for us to see each other after we reach London.” Questions she wished she didn’t have fought to be asked.

She felt the lightest touch as Phil brushed a strand of hair from her shoulder. “I meant it when I said you mustn’t be angry with yourself,” Phil told her. “Sometimes our bodies have minds of their own, no matter how harshly we try to command them into submission.”

Katherine raised a brow at her. “When have you ever tried to command your body into submission?”

Phil laughed prettily. “It isn’t that I haven’t tried, dearest.”

“Where Captain Warre is concerned, I can’t afford to fail.” Even now, his touch smoldered on her breasts and his spicy maleness wafted from her skin.

Phil squeezed her arm. “It’s the most unfair thing imaginable for him to turn out to be so—”

“Useful.”

“—desirable. For heaven’s sake, Katherine. You’re a woman grown, and he is a very tempting man. You needn’t take it to heart. Desire is just...desire. There’s no rhyme or reason to it.”

“Is that what you learned in Paris?”

“Yes.” Phil looked away and pushed at her hair. “Yes, precisely. Things happen in Paris—all kinds of things that go against reason. It’s not for nothing that they call it the City of Love.” She waved her hand. “But that’s neither here nor there. We’ll be in London shortly, which hasn’t near the magical quality of Paris, and if you’re not going to have an affair with him—”

“I’m not.”

“—you’ll need a different plan because I daresay even he won’t be able to make the bill disappear that easily.”

* * *

HE NEEDED TO get away from the sea, and it couldn’t happen quickly enough.

James stalked through the lower gun deck, snatched up the oil rag he’d been using and attacked the salt clinging to the hinges on the nearest gun port.

The sea had addled his brain—he’d seen it happen to better men. God, what had he done?

He licked his lip and tasted drying blood, just as a splash of salt spray hit him in the face. Damnation—he swiped his eye with the back of his wrist and heard William calling him.

“James.”

“Go away.” Instead, William came over and stood next to the cannon. James stood, too, and the motion made his face throb. “Don’t take directions well, do you?”

“Not from you.” William stood with his feet shoulder-width apart and folded his arms. “I came to apologize.”

“Sod off.” James turned away to oil the next hinge. There wasn’t a trace of apology in William’s voice, not that James wanted an apology. Or deserved one. She’d pushed the limits of his patience until he’d boiled over. Christ, he was a disgusting wretch, on fire for the very qualities her ruination had produced—a ruination that was his own damned fault.

The sooner this bloody ship docked, the better.

“What are your intentions toward Katherine?” William demanded.

“My intentions?” James tossed the rag aside and turned back, disbelieving. “You catch us in a compromising position and now what? You think to force my hand? I can’t imagine your captain approves this approach.”

“She may be the captain, but she’s still a woman. A very vulnerable one with little experience fending off men who try to seduce her.”

When an Englishman wearing a Barbary costume and gold in his ears demanded that one do the right thing, it was a sure sign the world had turned on its head. James felt his lip crack and pressed his fingers to it—too hard, though, and he flinched. “I begin to wonder how well you actually know Captain Kinloch, for all your professed friendship. Perhaps you’ve failed to notice the cutlass at her side, and her willingness—nay, her eagerness—to use it?”

“And the fact that she didn’t.” William’s eyes hardened. “If you lure her into an affair, I promise I won’t be so gentle in my next dealing with you.”

“I have no intention of luring Captain Kinloch anywhere—least of all into an affair. Captain Kinloch is the last woman I would ever contemplate having a liason with.” That was a bloody lie.

“Your actions half an hour ago prove otherwise.”

“The only thing my actions prove is that I’m a man who’s been too long at sea, and Captain Kinloch is a very beautiful woman who, apparently, has been too long at sea, as well.”

William got right up in James’s face, but this time James was ready. William would not strike him again. “If you make her fall in love with you,” William said, “if you break her heart, I swear on all that’s holy you’ll regret it.”

Fall in love with him? Good God. “Such pretty romantic notions, Jaxbury. For God’s sake, all I want in the whole world, all that’s driven me for months, is the prospect of consuming large volumes of cognac in front of the fire. I assure you, breaking Captain Kinloch’s heart has no place in that plan. She has no place in that plan.” Never mind that at this particular moment he would give up all the cognac in France for a single rut with her. God.

“That’s just fine,” William said. “But if it’s true, then I would suggest you stay the hell away from her.”

As soon as he repaid his debt, it was a suggestion James had every intention of following.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

OF COURSE, IF the debt depended on his own sense of obligation, he could simply forgive himself and be done with it.

The idea had no small amount of appeal several short days later, standing with Captain Kinloch and Miss Germain in front of the late Lord Dunscore’s towering house in St. James’s cloaked by the rank London evening, with an impatient hired hack in the street and no answer at the door. He held Anne against his chest to shield her from the damp and contemplated whether it would be possible to break down the door.

“Perhaps they assumed you were never returning and closed the place up for good,” Millicent hissed into the drizzly night.

“And left the lights burning?” Captain Kinloch shot back in a tight whisper. “There must be servants here.”

“Deaf ones.”

Meow! came Mr. Bogles’s outraged protest from inside a lidded basket.

“If we can’t get in,” Captain Kinloch snapped, “we’ll go to Philomena’s.”

James was just about to risk an almost certain nighttime spectacle by rapping the knocker a third time when the door finally cracked open on silent hinges. A skew-wigged servant scowled out at them.

“Dodd—” Captain Kinloch started, but James had no patience for that.

“Do excuse us.” He pushed past the old servant into a grand marble foyer that left no doubt as to the extent of the wealth Captain Kinloch had inherited.

“Now just wait,” the man sputtered. “You can’t—”

“Please tell your footmen to bring her ladyship’s trunks from the carriage.”

“I beg your pardon!” came Mr. Dodd’s indignant protest. “I—” Then suddenly he sputtered, “Lady Katherine?” Comprehension dawned. “I—I mean, your ladyship! I had no idea. That is to say, we had no word— We weren’t informed of your arrival.” He swept into a deep bow.

“The trunks,” James ordered, and was instantly sorry when Anne roused in his arms. “Go back to sleep,” he tried to murmur, but it came out more like a muttered command.

“The trunks. Of course. Of course!” The man finally spurred into action.

Millicent carried Mr. Bogles’s basket inside, while his repeated meows echoed through the foyer as footmen finally began carrying trunks up the great, curved staircase. Captain Kinloch stood frozen beneath a blazing silver chandelier, looking as vulnerable as Anne felt in his arms.

“Your ladyship is aware,” Mr. Dodd started, but paused. “That is to say, does your ladyship intend...”

For God’s sake, this was more than James could tolerate on a few moments’ sleep snatched during a pothole-ridden coach ride that had lasted an eternity. He glanced around for somewhere to put Anne and spotted an upholstered bench against one wall.

“Intend what?” Captain Kinloch came to life suddenly. Sharply.

“Does your ladyship intend to—” Dodd swallowed visibly “—evict Mr. Holliswell and Miss Holliswell, then?”

Her ladyship’s head whipped around. “Holliswell.” Her tone sliced through the air like her beloved cutlass.

Bloody hell. James went to the bench, fighting an urge to hold Anne closer rather than put her down, but Millicent gathered Anne away from him before he could decide otherwise.

Mr. Dodd wrung his hands. “He and Miss Holliswell have...set up residence, you see, and—”

“In my father’s house?”

“We did protest, your ladyship. Let me assure you!” Dodd’s eyes traveled from Captain Kinloch’s turban, down the length of her loose hair and over her woolen wrap, to the billow of Barbary trousers peeking out below and the boots that had served well on a ship’s deck but were unspeakably outlandish here. “But it’s well-known that Mr. Holliswell is to acquire... That is to say, he expects to receive...”

“He is to acquire nothing.” Those glittering topaz eyes flicked toward James just long enough for him to see fear developing behind her outrage. His gut tightened, and he was relieved when with angry strides she went to peer into a sitting room. He could see from here that it was strewn with gilded sofas and chairs that looked as though they belonged at the French court.

“What furniture is this?” she demanded.

“Miss Holliswell has been...redecorating, your ladyship,” Mr. Dodd said faintly.

Her hands fisted at her sides. “I want the Holliswells’ things thrown into the street.”

And wouldn’t the gossips have a frenzy with that. “Where are the Holliswells now?” James asked irritably. He would explain the folly of her plan later.

“They are out for the evening, sir.” Dodd eyed him with mistrust. “I believe they went to dine with Lord Croston.”

Devil take it. “I am Lord Croston,” he said sharply. By God, he would find Nick tonight and put an end to this.

“But...” Dodd’s eyes grew wide, and he paled.

There was nothing pleasant about the tight smile curving Captain Kinloch’s mouth as she turned her back on Holliswell’s painfully distasteful furnishings. “I daresay this would be an excellent time for you to effect your miraculous return,” she said, stopping in front of him. “And when you see Mr. Holliswell, you may tell him not to step foot in my house again unless he wishes to be gelded.”

“I fully agree with the first.” The fact that hearing her speak of gelding aroused him even the tiniest bit made it even clearer this business could not end quickly enough. “As to the second, I may not phrase it in exactly those terms.”

“I will find it very hard to stand paralyzed by the strictures of politeness while Holliswell steals my estate,” she warned.

Meow! Mr. Bogles agreed.

This, from the woman who thought he was ruthless. An accusing voice reminded him this was all his fault, but the fact that he owed her did not make her any less impossible. “If you don’t grasp some concept of the strictures of politeness, Parliament will hand your estate to him on a silver platter before you can toss a single gilded footstool into the street.”

* * *

COME MORNING, KATHERINE fully intended to throw an entire sitting room suite into the street. She tried relaxing her fists, but curled them tightly again to keep Captain Warre from seeing how badly she was shaking. “It would seem he’s already been handed my estate on a platter. But if he does return tonight, he’ll not step through the door.”

The door. It rose high, topped by a sweep of carved marble and flanked by great stained-glass panels whose lead canes she used to trace with small fingers. The last time she’d been here, servants had streamed out that door with her trunks as she bid a numb farewell to Papa and his new wife.