Page 124 of The Sea Witch
“Van der Meer sells horseshit by the ton, Smythe” Alys answered.
Smythe seemed to accept this, but his wary watery gaze turned back to Ben.
“You were there? When the letters were read?”
“We were having ourselves a fine celebration,” Ben said, “until the navy showed up and spilled my drink in my lap.”
“Damn navy,” Smythe muttered. “Always spoiling a good time.”
“We left together,” Alys added, giving Ben’s chest a playful nudge with her shoulder. “Through a window. I imagined we’d both wake up with broken necks.”
“Our necks are still sound, love,” Ben said with a wink, “even if the navy wants to stretch them.”
“Or have their leviathan swallow you,” Smythe added sourly. He looked at Ben with suspicion.
“You’re blocking the grub, Smythe.” Alys moved to shove the pirate aside.
Before she could, a man with rings in his ears and a knee-length embroidered tunic pushed Smythe away.
“Be off with you, maggot.” The man spoke with an Arabic accent. “No one has the stomach to be downwind of your breath.”
Smythe started to argue, then glanced at the jeweled and curved scimitar at the newcomer’s waist, before staggering off.
Alys tipped her chin in thanks. “Always a timely appearance, Karim.”
“In a mansion full of tedious people,” the corsair said with a sigh. “Smythe reigns supreme as the most tiresome.”
“And yet, you keep returning to Lambert’s.”
Karim’s smile flashed. “I remain optimistic that someone worthwhile will appear, and lo,” he added, gesturing at Alys and Ben, “my hopes have been fulfilled.” He bowed to Ben. “Karim Samali, your servant.”
“Ben Prowse.” He bowed in return.
“Most of the people here have a weeklong advantage over you, as far as debauchery is concerned.”
“Including you?” Ben asked.
Karim pressed a hand to his chest. “In this, I am deficient. I only arrived three days ago, and so my debauchery is somewhat lacking.” He waved away a servant offering cups of wine.
“Have faith, Karim,” Alys said with a smirk. “You’ll catch up.”
The corsair bowed before sauntering away toward a beckoning dancer.
Once Karim had gone, Ben permitted himself a small exhalation. Lambert’s refuge was a pit lined with knives. One misstep and Ben and Alys would be sliced to bloody chunks.
“Now,” Ben murmured to Alys as they watched the depravity unfolding, “we’ve merely to find the answer to Little George’s clue. And survive the night. Not certain which is more difficult.”
“When it comes to piracy and magic, everything’s a voyage through a hurricane. But,” she added with a grin, “that’s what makes it fun.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Alys was torn.
Torn between hunting down whatever it was that Little George had hidden here in Lambert’s refuge... and pulling Ben into a corner to kiss him.
He’d been coming slowly undone over the course of the last few weeks. A lost button here. A scruff of beard there. Little by little, he’d changed from a naval officer into someone wilder. He was freer, too, a scoundrel, all bravado and boldness.
Now, to see him clad in the clothes of a pirate, ornate coat and tall boots and loose hair, watching him strut and swagger around Lambert’s estate as if he owned the place, well... She almost fanned herself.
