Page 32 of The Captain Claims His Temptress

Was the arse insinuating Maddie’s brain was filled with fluttering insect wings?

Uncle Elias leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “It seems we have a problem. Madalene, please leave us be.”

Maddie’s heart crashed with such force that it was difficult to lift herself from her chair. And it was almost impossible to lug herself through the castle. By the time she reached her chamber, she was exhausted. Fully dressed, she collapsed onto her mattress and hugged her pillow to her chest.

It was not true. Stephen could not be engaged to Arabella Beaumont, and he was not abloody blighter. He was introspective and although something weighed on him, he was kind and honorable and nothing would ever convince her otherwise.

After a night’s rest, she would do everything within her power to find out why he often disappeared—if he did indeed disappear. Then, she would shout to the world that Captain Stephen Eaton was heroic. Thereupon, she would entice him into her bed and make love to him forever.

Chapter thirteen

October 5th, 1817

Stephenfellasleeplongafter midnight, and he awoke and dressed before dawn, his mind already hard at work. The bloody Beaumonts. His trouble-seeking siblings. Myrle and Diggins following him these last few days. Hugo Adams undressing Madalene with his lecherous gaze. Then there was the volatile confrontation with Pierre Dupont when he found him skulking around the tower where the prisoners were being held. If the man wanted to remain inconspicuous, he should forgo the buckets of floral bombs and musky cat-piss-tinged fragrances he bathed in.

“Cap-a-taine,” Dupont had said in his dramatic accent. “Apparently you do not understand what high regard your secretary of state holds for me. I am sending him a missive to tell him that you are again following and harassing me.”

Stephen bit his tongue so that he didn’t spit out, “Be my guest.”

Pierre had leaned close and hissed in Stephen’s ear. “I know your secrets and I will divulge them.”

What secrets? The only secrets he had were the times he had helped his siblings. That and his dalliances with the widow Hemmingsworth when he was a young lad, and those were hardly worth mentioning. There was also his overwhelming attraction to the beauty sleeping a hallway away. He moaned.

At least his nightmares had been replaced with dreams where he consumed the sweet delights between his siren’s thighs.

“Oh, Madalene.” Her skin. Her lips. Her scent. Her voice. Her palpable sensual needs….

With a full body shake, he rid himself of the memory of her touch. Well, not quite. But he gave it his best effort as he traversed the castle.

His footsteps echoed as he descended the staircase at the base of the tower. A shaft of light from a high window lit up an iron grille. He peeked through the bars.

Diggins was sound asleep on a medieval torture rack, his head on one of the rollers, his ankle twisted in one of the pulleys. Myrle lay beneath a breaking wheel. He hugged an iron cudgel to his chest as if it were a cherished toy.

Stephen chuckled as he retrieved the cell key from a hook. He slid the door open, tiptoed into the dank room, then aimed the barrel of his pistol at the scoundrels.

“Rise and shine!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

Myrle shot straight up, banging his head on one of the wheel’s protruding spokes. Diggins tumbled from his makeshift bed, landing beside the sanitation channel.

“Bloody friggin’ hell,” Myrle said as he rubbed his head.

Diggins stood and put a hand on his hip. “That wasn’t very gentlemanly of ye’.”

’Twas difficult to feel gentlemanly with the smell of piss and rot all around him. Moreover, Myrle and Diggins did not exactly elicit charitable hospitality.

“I thought I would visit before the local constabulary arrives and escorts you back to jail,” Stephen said.

“We ain’t done nothin’ wrong. All we done was try to earn our keep.” Looking down, Myrle frowned at his livery. “We even put on these blasted itchy suits and set up easels and them hoity-toity ladies are bloody hateful.”

“Unless enjoying a little peep at that maid gettin’ her brains fucked out beside the fountain last night is against the law.” Diggins chortled.

“That ain’t against the law is it, Captain?” Diggins smirked. “If so, might you be joinin’ us in prison?”

They knew he had been in the gardens watching? Curse it. Still, he would not allow the simpletons to bait him. “Why were you following me and what do you want with my siblings?”

“Ye might want to sit down for this,” Diggins said.

Stephen kept his pistol aimed at the men as he leaned against the wall. “I’ll stand, thank you.”