Page 87 of Dangerous

Ramsay laughed. “I take your point and I would certainly rather be forearmed in this situation.” He looked at the liquid in his glass, his usually amused face pensive as he considered the matter. “Assad will expect me to bring her back, so he’ll think she’s on the Ghost. That means we should keep her on the Scythe. We could always move her to the Scythe before we reach Oran, but I can’t help thinking that would make her suspicious. It would be better if you commenced your trip on Martín’s ship. He will protect her when you’re not there, Exley,” he added, after noting Adam’s skeptical expression. “Since he will not be coming with us, he will be the best we have to offer.”

Adam bristled at the notion of spending weeks at sea with the obnoxious Frenchman and then leaving Mia alone with the arrogant lothario.

He allowed the fine brandy to warm him as he considered the man’s words. “Bouchard is that good?”

“Bouchard is who I would want to guard my own wife, if I had one.” He gave one of his booming laughs. “Well, perhaps not when it came to her virtue.”

Adam flicked Ramsay a look of contempt. “I am not concerned about that,” he lied, a hateful wave of jealousy cresting all the way to his eyeballs when he thought of the younger man even looking at his wife.

Adam thought back on that conversation now, for the hundredth time wondering if he’d been foolish to allow her to come. He did not feel good about deceiving her, but there wasn’t any other choice. What did it matter if she was angry at being left? Would it be better that she was dead than angry?

He closed the book he was holding, annoyed at the way his thoughts chased one another around and around and yielded nothing new or productive. He sat down at the small table and watched his wife as she worked. He thought about the secret she’d kept from him, and how it had angered him. And then he thought about the secret he was keeping from her, and how much worse it was, how much more irreparable.

She caught him watching and gave him a loving look, not faltering under his scowl—a scowl that was born of guilt and fear rather than anger this time.

His stomach lurched sickly with the secret he could neither swallow nor seem to disclose.

* * *

Life aboard the Scythe quickly settled into a routine.

They woke not long after first light, as it became impossible to sleep with the sounds of activity. After a leisurely breakfast in their cabin they went on deck, foul or fair, to take some exercise.

Silence fell each time they came on deck. The crew, unused to having either women or haughty English peers aboard, couldn’t help staring. Luckily, both Adam and Mia were well accustomed to being stared at and paid the men no mind.

When the heat of the day drove them back below deck they would read or play games to pass the time. While they’d not made love since beginning their journey, Adam seemed to unwind a little toward her with each day. Besides, it was enough for Mia that they slept together each night, the close confines of the cabin making any other arrangement uncomfortable, if not impossible.

Toward the end of the first week, when they were engaged in a game of chess and Mia was trying not to win too quickly, Captain Bouchard knocked on their cabin.

He’d kept his distance for the first few days, but it was difficult to avoid one another in such small spaces. Mia frequently saw him eating with his chief mates in the small room that served as a medical bay, dining room, and meeting area.

“We are going to have a bit of weather in a few hours. Not too bad, I hope, but perhaps a little rough.” The young captain spoke in his native French. He looked at the board between them and smirked at Mia, as if it amused him to think of a woman playing chess. “You play, eh?”

“Yes, would you care for a game, Captain?”

Adam shook his head, no doubt picturing the two of them bobbing behind the boat after she beat the mercurial captain.

Bouchard paused, his eyes sliding to Adam. Mia poked her husband under the table with her foot.

He sighed and answered in French, a language with which the captain was obviously more comfortable. “My wife is almost finished with me, Bouchard. I would be glad for a rest.”

Captain Bouchard looked pleased by the offer and Mia realized he probably didn’t have many other opponents on his ship.

Mia wrapped up the game, glad she no longer had to consider inventive ways not to beat her husband. Bouchard rang for a bottle of wine and took Adam’s seat.

Mia held out closed fists with a pawn in each. Bouchard drew white and an almost childlike look of glee spread across his face, which he made no effort to hide. Captain Bouchard liked to win. She wondered if it would be politic to give him at least the first game. She was considering the matter when she looked up and saw Adam watching her over the top of a book, a glass of wine beside him on the desk. She swiveled her eyes to Bouchard and lifted her eyebrows. Adam shrugged, his resigned expression saying he’d washed his hands of the matter.

Coward, Mia mouthed. She turned to Bouchard’s handsome, conceited face and decided she would enjoy thrashing him.

The game went much as she expected. Bouchard was not a bad player, but he thought no more than a few moves ahead. Also, he was too attached to his pieces to sacrifice any to further his cause. She chased him around the board a bit, not wanting to end it too quickly. By the time she had him in checkmate, she could see it would have been wiser to let him win. He seemed to have grown to twice his size and made no effort to hide his fury. For a moment she thought he might fling the board and pieces across the cabin.

As if sensing the incipient violence, Adam came to stand beside her.

“You are in good company, Bouchard. I have never beaten her. I should have warned you.” He looked down at Mia, his eyes glinting with dark humor. “Why don’t you let us have a game, my lady?”

Bouchard looked so enraged Mia thought he might decline Adam’s offer. But he seemed to think better of it, no doubt believing his manly pride would suffer if he demurred.

The game between the two men was far better matched. The protracted slaughter finally ended in a draw after nothing but kings and pawns were left on the board.