Salvage Read online

  And though Georgiana liked his hair wild, she would like this even more. “Have a seat. You could use a good combing.”

  “I can do it.”

  “I know. But I want to.”

  That seemed good enough reason for Thom. But Georgiana’s true reason was that it gave her an excuse to move in between his knees when he sat on the edge of the bed, and stand with her body close to his. He would only have to lean forward to pillow his cheek upon her breast. His gaze had settled there instead, his lips parted, as if the shadow of her cleavage was an entrancing thing.

  Her heart pounded. She slicked the wet comb through his thick hair, trying not to think of his mouth so near to the bare expanse of skin above her neckline, unable to think of anything else. Each breath she took seemed to tighten her bodice across her breasts, and she could hardly bear the ache at their tips. Thom must see how her nipples beaded beneath the cotton. But though she yearned for him to touch her, his hands had fisted at his thighs.

  Now was not the time, anyway. Desperately, she searched for something to distract her. Anything. Such as dinner with Lord Pinchpenny. She wondered breathlessly, “Do you think that he put off his cook with the rest of the crew? He doesn’t seem like a man who will tolerate poor fare at his table.”

  “He doesn’t.” Thom’s voice was rough. “But he also doesn’t seem a man who does anything by half.”

  “Then he would have had to hire another for this job. A mercenary cook. I didn’t even realize there was such a thing, though I suppose all of the knives come in handy,” she said, and smiled when Thom laughed. That quiet rumble counted among her favorite sounds in all the world.

  When his laugh faded, she felt his hand upon her hip. But not to pull her closer. It was a small touch of apology, instead. “I won’t be good company at dinner. I’d as soon kill him as talk to him.”

  “I won’t care if you don’t speak a single word, Thom. You are always good company to me.” She used her fingers to smooth back a few dark strands near his temple, then sighed. “We should not delay much longer.”

  “No. But I’ll need another minute before I’m decent.”

  “Oh?” Then she saw the state of his trousers, and heat flooded her cheeks. “Thom!”

  He laughed again at her admonishing tone—though the truth was, she did not mind a bit.

  And she could use another minute, too.

  * * *

  The captain’s cabin also lay on the second deck, but at the stern rather than the bow. Squared off, the cabin was bigger than the triangular one, and whoever the usual captain was, that person had more sensible taste than displayed in the stateroom. A heavy brown curtain separated the main part of the room from the berth. Sturdy furnishings and dark woods gave the cabin a somber appearance. Paned windows overlooked the tall blades of the twin propellers, and beyond them, offered a view of the setting sun painting orange across the water in broad strokes.

  Lord Pinchpenny was alone, reading by the glow of a small lamp. As they entered, he set the book aside and rose from his chair to greet them. “How lovely you look, Mrs. Thomas.”

  “Thank you.” Her reply was stiff. She did indeed look well. But a single heated glance from Thom pleased her a thousand times more than flattery from this man ever could.

  “Please, come and be seated. I cannot tell you how grateful I am that you’re here. I’ve longed for civilized conversation.”

  He gestured to the table, a more formal setting than in their stateroom, and large enough to seat eight. Standing at the head, he pulled out the chair on his right.

  Thom took it. He dragged the next seat back for Georgiana, keeping himself between her and Lord Pinchpenny.

  Flattening her lips to stop her smile, Georgiana sat. Not much civilized conversation would be found with her husband—which was exactly how she liked him. Lord Pinchpenny didn’t attempt to conceal his amusement. He regarded Thom with a wide grin before looking to Georgiana again.

  “By your accent, I believe we must have been almost neighbors once. You lived on Prince George Island?”

  Near to Manhattan City, but in many ways, she couldn’t have been born any farther away from this man. They were most certainly not neighbors. But she only replied, “Not for many years. My family came to Skagen when I was a young girl.”

  Still standing, Lord Pinchpenny filled their glasses with red wine. “Before the revolution in England?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you didn’t return home when the tower was destroyed?”

  “England was never my home, sir.”

  His brows rose at that. “I have always considered it mine. All of my family has. Indeed, that is how we’ve come to this situation now.”

  “The situation where you’ve threatened both me and my husband?” Georgiana smiled, so that he would know this conversation was still civilized. “What is it that you needed, sir? The money?”

  “No.” He finished pouring wine for himself and took his place at the head of the table. “I’m not a thief. This is reclamation of honor.”

  Through piracy and murder? “What honor do you wish to reclaim?”

  “Title, lands. But above all, a good name.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs at the knee, the easy posture of a man utterly sure of himself. “I’m the Earl of Southampton—or rather, I should be.”

  And Georgiana had always thought she should be Queen of the North Sea. That didn’t make her so. “And why aren’t you?”

  “Shortly before the Horde’s invasion, my ancestor—Henry, the sixth Earl of Southampton—shared the fears of those who had already fled England, and sent his countess and children to the Americas. But he remained behind. My family had extensive holdings and many tenants dependent on them, and the earl was loyal to the Crown. He would not abandon either out of fear. Like every man of my line, he believed that it was his honor and duty to serve them.”

  Beside her, Thom drew in a long, slow breath and closed his eyes. Probably because he was rolling them toward the heavens.

  Georgiana suppressed another smile. “And so he was caught in England when the tower went up?”

  “No. He was among those who weren’t infected by the Horde’s radio signals. And you have likely heard the stories of what had happened then. Confusion and panic everywhere. No one quite knew what had happened; they only knew England was under attack of some sort, and even the king had been affected. For the security of the Crown, his ministers agreed that a portion of the treasury should be taken out of London for safekeeping until the threat was defeated. They entrusted my ancestor with some of those treasures.”

  It finally began to make sense. “Including the chest of gold coins?”

  “Yes. Everything my ancestor took with him was documented, with the understanding that it would all be returned when the Horde had been overthrown. That documentation reached the Americas with one of the king’s ministers. But my ancestor did not. The Irish fired upon his ship, instead.”

  “They denied it.”

  “Yes. So my ancestor was labeled a thief when the treasures in his keeping disappeared—and his title and lands were stripped from him and his heirs. I ought to have been next in line.”

  “Now you want to restore your family’s good name.” Along with the title and lands.

  “Yes.”

  “And you needed the coins as proof that your ancestor didn’t steal them?”

  Smiling, he dipped his head in a slow nod. “Exactly right, Mrs. Thomas.”

  What a load of ballocks. She didn’t doubt that there was some truth to his tale of being an heir and of lost titles, but the history of those coins would have been revealed when Thom put them up for auction, and Southampton’s family’s name would have been cleared then. So that could not be his only reason for taking such drastic measures to secure the coins—and the most probable reason was the same as the one she’d first suspected: money. Those coins were worth a fortune. A clever man could claim that he’d only recovered half their n
umber from the wreck, return those to the Crown as proof of his ancestor’s innocence, then sell the remainder on the sly.

  Georgiana didn’t know what his ancestor had been, but this would-be Lord Southampton was likely nothing but a thief, after all.

  But she didn’t say so. “You must have been searching for these coins for some time—along with the other treasures that your ancestor took with him.”

  “As my father did, and his father, and his father. We have hoped to hear any mention of the items.”

  “So that is how Thom’s salvage dealer knew to contact you.”

  Southampton nodded again. “I would not miss any opportunity to gain proof of my ancestor’s innocence. My children will not be raised under the shadow of shame that I was.”

  Perhaps in Manhattan City, that shadow had been a painful one. But considering that he would likely try to deny Georgiana and Thom the chance of having any children at all—or a life that lasted longer than a few more days—she could not feel sympathy for him.

  “Why didn’t you send your own divers to Dublin, then?”

  “We didn’t know exactly where the items were, in truth. The weeks following the invasion were complete chaos. No one was certain which ship he’d boarded, or even if he’d made it onto a ship at all. The treasures might have shown up anywhere.”

  So he hadn’t known much of anything until Thom had found the coins. “And what would you have done if they’d been found elsewhere?”

  This time, the smile that touched his lips wasn’t amused. Just determined. And a bit frightening. “The same thing I am now: make my best offer, then go about securing them any way necessary.”

  “And you will let us return home after Thom retrieves the coins for you?”

  “Of course.” Southampton shrugged, the coldness falling away. “Just as I said I would.”

  “So you did.”

  And Georgiana didn’t believe a word of it.

  * * *

  Their dinner arrived shortly thereafter—fish and potatoes, and just as coarse as she would have expected from a mercenary cook—and they spent the remainder of the meal speaking of pleasant trifles. Georgiana was glad to finally return to the stateroom, where her time would be spent in a worthwhile purpose.

  It was almost midnight when she and Thom finished running the air hose through the tub—at least five hundred feet of it. Probably more than would be used in a hundred-foot dive, but he would need at least some of the extra length to move around when he reached the bottom, and it was always better to have too much than too little.

  She rose to her feet, rolling her shoulders to loosen stiff muscles. “Are you coming to bed?”

  Shaking his head, he hauled the giant coil of hose out from the middle of the floor. “I’ll make do with that big chair.”

  Big chair? Georgiana glanced toward the porthole. He meant the settee—but to a man of his size, it probably looked the same.

  And it would be ridiculous for him to sleep there, whatever he called it.

  “No, Thom. You’ve just spent days in a fever, recovering from a bullet wound. You will share the bed with me.”

  Once again, her husband proved himself a sensible man. He didn’t argue with her. He just nodded.

  Mrs. Winch hadn’t brought any of her nightgowns. By the soft glow of the lamp, Georgiana unpinned her hair. She removed her dress and stockings, then quickly climbed into bed wearing only her chemise. She watched as Thom stripped down to his drawers and snuffed the lamp. Darkness filled the cabin, but the silvery moonlight through the portholes allowed her to follow his progress to the bed. She waited, holding her breath. He lifted the blankets. The bed creaked, the mattress dipped.

  As soon as he settled onto his back, Georgiana turned against his side, flattening her hand over his heart. Crisp hair tickled her palm. His hard body tensed against hers before he relaxed. His fingers slid down her spine, steel whispering over cotton, and with a tightening of his arm drew her a little closer against him. Smiling, she rested her head against his biceps.

  A few seconds later, she began shaking with silent laughter.

  “Georgie?”

  “It’s harder than I realized.” She sat up to the sound of his deep laugh and tucked her pillow into the crook of his arm. “Is this all right?”

  “Yes.”

  In the faint light, she saw he was smiling. Georgiana lay down again, her cheek cushioned by down and supported by steel. In all her life, she didn’t think there’d been a single moment that had been as wonderful as this.

  Then she sighed, because there were less wonderful things that needed to be spoken of. “Even if you find the gold tomorrow, you should delay bringing it up.”

  “So that we’ll have tomorrow night to bring up the submersible?”

  Or to develop another plan, if that proved impossible. “Yes.”

  “You think he’s lying about returning us home, too.”

  She nodded against his shoulder. “Your discovery of the coins would have been the proof he needed to clear his name. But as the salvager, you’d have had a claim on any profits—or a reward, if the Crown decided to simply take the coins back.”

  “He’s after the money,” Thom agreed. “As if he doesn’t have enough.”

  “I don’t think he does.” Georgiana came up on her elbow, her breasts pressing softly against his side. Moonlight and shadows made a handsome sculpture of his features. “I did, but not after he told us that he’d made his best offer. That doesn’t make sense. I believe that he wants to reclaim his title—that he’s desperate to. So why would his best offer be so low? He’d want to be certain that no one could buy those coins before he did. So I don’t think he was able to offer more.”

  “You think he’s strapped?” Doubt colored Thom’s voice.

  “Very likely. In Manhattan City, it’s quite common for the noble families to have all the appearance of wealth, while in truth they are living on credit and the goodwill of their relations. And if Southampton was desperate for the money as well as his title—or if he’s just a greedy bastard—it would explain why he chose this route.”

  “Trying to kill me for it? He still could have just taken the coins when I offered them.”

  “But you know how many coins were found. If fewer than five thousand were returned to the Crown, you are the one person who could expose him.”

  “The dealer knew.” Thom’s body stiffened against hers. “And you know, too.”

  “And that’s why I don’t believe he’ll let us live. No matter what he says. And I wouldn’t lay bets on your dealer’s life, either.”

  With a heavy sigh, Thom nodded. He reached up and drew the curtain of her hair back over her shoulder—it had been shadowing her face, she realized. She caught his hand before he lowered it back to his side.

  Her fingers slipped through his. Hard, cool. Surprisingly smooth. The joints were so finely constructed, she could barely detect the seams. In brighter light, she’d seen the great number of components, as if Ivy Blacksmith had taken twenty different machines and reshaped them into his arms.

  “They are truly amazing,” she said softly.

  “Yes.”

  His voice was thick. Suddenly her throat felt the same. Without letting go of his hand, she lay her head against his chest, listened to the heavy thud of his heart.

  “I need to tell you, Thom. What I said—what I made you promise—it wasn’t what I meant.”

  “What wasn’t?”

  “Holding me in your arms. I should have explained. My mother . . . When my father was gone, she was always looking out the window. Waiting for him. And when he wasn’t home, she never even seemed alive. Like some part of her was gone, too.”

  “She always looked happy to me.”

  Georgiana came up on her elbow again, saw his confused frown. “Because you only saw her when my father was there, too. When you worked on his ship, you came home when he did. So after we married, I didn’t want to be like my mother. I didn’t care what s
ort of arms you held me with. I just wanted you home every night.”

  His mouth flattened into a hard line. “But I left, anyway.”

  Yes, he had. And that remembered hurt tightened her throat. Because she hadn’t explained herself then, but he’d known she wanted him home. “I asked you to stay.”

  As if in frustration, he lifted his head and slammed it back against the pillow with a soft whump. “Your father told me you would. And that if I did as you asked, and didn’t bring anything home, soon you’d be asking why I wasn’t out there working and supporting you.”

  Georgiana frowned. Though she didn’t like to think so, maybe she would have. When they’d married, she’d had no occupation for herself, aside from helping keep her father’s records. What had she expected Thom to do? She’d wanted him to stay near to their home. But work was scarce, and staying close to home wasn’t always an option for a laboring man.

  It would be now. Her shipping interests earned enough to support them both. Thom could work anywhere he liked—or not work at all, if that was what he wanted.

  And despite all the hurt of the past four years, a part of her was suddenly glad for every bit of pain. His absence had turned her into a woman who wouldn’t ask her husband when he would support her.

  “Did I do that to you?” His words were low and rough. “Did I make you watch at the windows, with a part of you gone?”

  She shook her head. “I wouldn’t let myself. I kept myself occupied. I made a business.”

  “Did you?” Admiration tinged his deep voice.

  “Yes.” Lightly, she traced her fingers down the center of his chest. “And it’s partially yours. For years, my father had been selling whale oil to men who turned around and made a fortune trading it with the Horde. So I took the money you sent and used it to pay a crew to sail my father’s ship to Morocco and trade directly. I might have lost everything. But I was lucky. I made enough to buy more vessels, though I don’t take so many risks now. Primarily just shipping cargo around the North Sea.”