Page 51 of The Captain Claims His Temptress

“And yet, you did. Please excuse me.”

Skirts rustling, she fled down the hall. She opened the study door and ran head-first into a man’s chest. Squealing, she clutched her heart.

Pierre Dupont chuckled.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Waiting for Elias.” He reached around her to pull the door closed.

Unsettling chills raced up Maddie’s spine. She stepped into the room and away from Pierre. He would not undermine the meeting with her uncle.

“I solicited a private audience with Sir Saxton.” She mentally calculated how much time had passed. “He will be here any moment.”

Like a long-legged spider prowling for prey, Dupont crept toward her. He grasped her shoulders, and his lips brushed her ear.

“How shall we entertain ourselves until he arrives, mademoiselle?”

Fury overrode her fear. “Take your hands off of me.”

“Vous est belle.”He nuzzled her neck and chuckled. “Have you ever made love,faire l’amour,to a Frenchman?”

She was not fluent in French, but from his tone, lecherous gaze, and what little she did understand of the language, his words were bold and indecent. She stomped on his foot—twice. Make thatdeux fois.

His grip on her shoulders tightened. “Harlot!”

“I am not afraid of you. My uncle will open this door any second, and I will tell him exactly what you did. You may think you have him wrapped around your finger, but I have not a doubt, once he learns that you tried to take advantage of me, he will cast you out of his home. And you do not want to pique Lady Saxton’s ire, for she loves me like a daughter.”

“You dare threaten me?”

Despite her uncle’s misplaced ire, for the first time in her life, she felt cherished. She widened her stance and met his gaze. “My aunt’s wrath is nothing compared to the bullet Stephen Eaton will put in your heart.”

“Your precious Stephen Eaton is headed to the gallows for the pirating of your uncle’s ships.” He stormed to the exit. “You will not get away with this, little slut.Toi petite salope!” He slammed the door behind him.

Three confrontations in a matter of moments for a woman who avoided conflict at all costs was a lot to handle. She’d never suffered a fit of vapors, but if the blood rushing to her ears and the heavy thumping of her heart against her chest were symptoms, she might require a vinaigrette. She flung herself into her uncle’s chair, closed her eyes, and breathed. Pierre Dupont had lied. There was no way Stephen had stolen anything.

A few deep inhales, followed by long exhales, steadied her galloping heart rate. She opened her eyes and perused the chamber. The same white walls that adorned the main rooms of the castle gave the room a modern feel. The heavy mahogany furniture added elegance. Like every other inch of the castle, Sir Saxton’s work area was exceedingly neat. Not a paper or pen out of place.

Since he ran late, she leaned forward to rest her forehead on the desk. Something jabbed her belly, so she gazed downward. The top drawer of the desk was open, displaying a black key. How unlike her uncle to leave something untidy. But thank heavens he had since so much had gone wrong since she’d embarked on her mission. She fingered the surprisingly warm iron between her fingers.

Since her uncle had been detained, he would hardly miss her. She clasped the loot in her fist and fled the room.

Chapter nineteen

October 6th, 1817

Stephenstoletohisroom and changed into dark, incognito clothing. Since the lamps were snuffed at midnight, he carried a lantern to the fountain.

What a foolish thing he’d done in asking Madalene to steal the key. He had put her in danger. And for what? To release two criminals so that he could retrieve a book that may or may not contain damning information about Dupont.

He stopped circling the fountain andthunked a palm to his forehead. “Hell and the Devil.”

Weapons were for killing, intimidation, and bringing down governments. If the British and American military were contracting Saxton’s ships to transport weapons, and Dupont was pilfering from them, he could outfit a personal army.

What had he dragged Madalene into?

As if he were dreaming, her sensual accent lilted to him with the breeze. “Stephen?”

He lifted the lantern and peered into the dark. The moonlight outlined her silhouette.