Lord of Devil Isle by Connie Mason Read Free Book Online Page A

the captain let his long dark hair fly free. It teased his broad shoulders as if he were some barbarian prince.
    Eve turned away from him in frustration. Too bad the civilization of St. Georges had not tamed the master of this vessel.
    The Susan Bell sidled up to the wharf, rubbing her hull against the dock like a tart toying with her lover. Nicholas supervised his men as they made her fast.
    An enterprising wharf rat had evidently heard the ship’s bell as they approached. The boy had nipped up to Nick’s big house on the hill and fetched an emptywagon in anticipation of the goods Nick should have been hauling back from the wreck. The lad had even thought to tie Nick’s horse to the back of the wagon bed.
    “Mr. Higgs.” Nicholas snapped his fingers and his first mate came to heel immediately, following him to the head of the gangplank. “Bring our guests up to the house in the wagon. I’ll be along directly.”
    “Aye, Cap’n.”
    “Oh, and fetch that lad along as well.” Nick pointed at the boy who stood at the stallion’s head. “Make a place for him in the stables for now. If he continues to show promise there, we’ll see about a berth for him among the crew.”
    “Aye,” Higgs said, a worried frown beetling his brows. “But aren’t you going to be there when we arrive? I’m thinking Miss Magdalen may not welcome our…guests as warmly as we might like.”
    Nick laughed. “Astute as ever, Higgs,” he said. “Which is why I’m making a stop by the milliner on the way. Never go into battle unarmed, lad. And if your opponent is female, the best weapon is a new bonnet and a handful of ribbons.”
    “B-but if we arrive before you, what shall I say to Miss Magdalen?” Peregrine’s stutter was back as soon as the deck stopped rocking.
    “Don’t worry.” Nicholas clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Women are always curious as magpies. Take our guests for a slow turn around the town and I’ll make sure to beat you home. It’ll all be sorted out by the time you arrive.”
    He strode down the gangplank, tossed tuppence to the lad by the wagon and told him to wait for Higgs. Then Nick mounted the stallion and dug his heels into its flanks, launching into a quick trot along Water Street.
An image of Magdalen’s face shimmered before him. Perhaps two new bonnets might not be amiss.
    “Oh, what cunning little things. Nick, they’re beautiful,” Magdalen exclaimed over the new fripperies. She pulled herself away from the hatbox long enough to plant a quick wet kiss on his mouth before she turned her attention back to the bonnets. “I take it all back. You were so right to salvage that wreck.”
    “I don’t know about that.”
    “I do.” She slipped on the pink one and knotted a jaunty bow under one ear, admiring the effect in Nick’s looking glass. “Why, this is every bit as fetching as that lot at Mistress Atwood’s shop down on Water Street. I’ll wager it came straight from Paris. Was the ship French?”
    “No.” He wondered how much longer he had before Higgs arrived with the wagon.
    “What else were they hauling? Bales of cloth?” Her eyes sparkled like a deep emerald cove. “Better yet, were there any ready-made dresses?”
    “I don’t know.” Nick sank into his favorite chair, flanking the hearth. “Look Magda, those bonnets didn’t come from the salvage vessel.”
    She looked askance at him.
    “They’re from Mistress Atwood’s.”
    “But—”
    “I didn’t make it to the wreck in time.”
    “Oh, no.” She skittered over and sank to her knees before him, resting her skillful fingers on his thighs. “Never say it went down with all hands.”
    “No, not exactly. Bostock beat me to it.”
    “I’m so sorry, Nick.” She raised herself up and leaned to kiss him again, but he turned his head. No mere kiss would make up for losing the Molly Harper. “He must have had a head start. No one can outsail you.”
    “He didn’t outsail me, but Bostock had the better luck,