Page 60 of A Wicked Game

“Why would you want to make my acquaintance?” she asked as they came together.

De Montfort smiled. “I wanted to meet the only woman I’ve ever been threatened with.”

Harriet missed a step. “What do you mean,threatened with? By whom?”

De Montfort laughed, but not in a malicious way. “By my captain, of course. I was a midshipman on theBriseis. Whenever someone had done something wrong, Captain Davies used to say,And be thankful I’m only making you scrub the decks, and not having you flayed alive by Harriet Montgomery.”

Harriet’s mouth went slack. She snapped it closed with a jolt that jarred her teeth.

“He said that? Out loud? In everyone’s hearing?”

De Montfort’s eyes twinkled with humor. “Oh, many times. But please don’t take it the wrong way. He always said your name with such reverence, suchawe. We all imagined you as some glorious, vengeful goddess.”

“Dear Lord.”

“Once, when we’d struggled all night through a particularly horrible squall, he stood on the foredeck andshouted at the waves,Is that all you’ve got? I’ve had worse tongue-lashings from Harriet Montgomery!”

Harriet shook her head, torn between fury and mortification. “Oh, no.”

“Of course, afterthat, every man on board vowed to meet the woman who could cut our fearless captain down to size. You achieved near-mythic status on board.”

Harriet hardly knew what to say. The young man clearly hero-worshiped Morgan. And, rather oddly,herself.

“I take it he was a good captain? Aside from making you scrub the decks, I mean.”

“Thebest, ma’am.” De Montfort’s blue eyes were sincere.

“But weren’t you held prisoner with him too?”

“Oh, yes. But that wasn’t the captain’s fault. His map was wrong. Could’ve happened to anyone.”

Harriet’s cheeks warmed with a guilty flush. “Quite.”

“The fact is, I owe Captain Davies my life.”

Harriet raised her brows at that fervent declaration. “How so?”

“He took a flogging on my behalf. On Martinique. We were kept in the most awful conditions, you can’t imagine. We were locked in our cells most of the time, but twice a day we were exercised in the fields beside the fort. De Caen—that was the commander of the place—rode up one day and accused me of stealing a loaf of bread.” His golden brows lowered in indignation. “I’d done no such thing! I denied it, but he started to whip me with his riding crop.”

“That’s dreadful,” Harriet murmured.

“I honestly think he would have beaten me to death if Captain Davies hadn’t intervened. He tackled De Caen off his horse and started pummeling him in the road. Even with both of his hands bound, he managedto land a few good kicks before he was pulled off by De Caen’s men.”

“Good heavens.”

“The commander was furious. He had the captain flogged—six lashes—then had him thrown into solitary confinement for two weeks. They only fed him once a day.”

Harriet swallowed. She’d always known Morgan was a decent man beneath his provoking Davies exterior, but hearing a firsthand account of his heroics was something else. Her heart ached for his suffering, even as she felt a flash of anger at how he’d endangered himself. She’dknownhe’d do something stupidly noble like that when they made their bet two years ago. What if he’d been killed? Her blood ran cold.

“Sothat’swhy the Frenchman walks with a limp,” she murmured.

De Montfort sent her an odd look. “You know him?”

“What? Oh,” Harriet prevaricated, suddenly realizing that De Caen’s presence in London wasn’t common knowledge. “No. I… heard Captain Davies mention him. In passing.”

They completed another graceful turn.

“You know what the captain said when they brought him out of solitary?”

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