Page 12 of The Captain of Betrayal
A chorus of agreement went up, as the ladies of the boarding house rained congratulations upon the authoress, who preened under their praise. The Marquess beckoned for Polly, who left her charges, and went to where he stood in the doorway.
"I've left my visitor in the kitchen. He's a captain off one of Everleigh's ships," the Marquess whispered. "He needs a room for the night, if you would be so kind?"
"Of course, my Lord," Polly gave a slight bob at his words. "Any friend of the Duke's is most welcome in this home. I'll fetch him now and show him to his room, before the ladies catch sight of him and scare him off."
With a wicked smile to the Marquess, Polly made her way to the kitchens, where the mysterious captain was waiting. He was standing with his back to her when she entered, staring into the warm fire that danced in the hearth. Polly allowed herself a quick second to appreciate the breadth of his shoulders, and his fine figure, before she spoke.
"Lord Delaney tells me you're looking for a room, Captain," she said cheerfully, obviously startling the man, for his shoulders stiffened at her voice. "I've one free, it's in the back of the house, away from the noise of the other guests."
The Captain turned as she finished speaking, and Polly almost fainted with shock as she realised who it was that was standing in her kitchen.
"Polly?" James Black, tall and dangerously handsome, looked at her with a pale, shocked face. "Is that you?"
For years after James had humiliated her, Polly had often imagined the stinging barbs she would deliver, if she was ever unfortunate enough to meet him again. All the insults she had practised, however, fled her head now that he stood before her, and she found herself staring at him mutely.
"It is you," James' handsome face broke into a smile, and he took a step toward her with his hands outstretched. "My Lord, I have been looking for you for a decade."
Being tall as he was, James had crossed the breadth of the room in two long strides, and by the time Polly had gathered her woollen thoughts, he stood before her. His hand reached out--a strong, calloused, working man's hand--to take hers, and the instant that his skin touched Polly's own, she snapped out of her shocked silence.
"A decade?" she mused aloud, snatching her hand back from his and cradling it to her body as though it had been burned. "That doesn't say much for your hunting skills, Captain."
"I am--"
"You are looking for a room," Polly interrupted him, beckoning him to follow her into the hallway, which James did, still wearing an expression of shock. "Yes, the Marquess told me as much."
Polly strode down the corridor to the entrance hall, where she flung the front door open and gestured for James Black to follow her outside, which, again, he did.
"Unfortunately, Captain," Polly said darkly, once they were both outside, on the cobbled path, "There's no room at this inn for a man such as you."
With a smile of triumph, Polly turned on her heel, marched back inside and slammed the front door so loudly that several ladies popped their heads out of the drawing room, to see what was the matter.
"Is everything alright, Polly?" Mrs Actrol, as the most senior guest, took charge of the situation, shooing the curious guests back inside the drawing room and coming to stand beside Polly in the hallway.
"Everything is just fine," Polly whispered automatically, knowing that the tears which now poured down her cheeks said otherwise.
"I often find," Mrs Actrol replied kindly, "That when things are as fine as they appear to be with you, that a nice snifter of brandy can only make them finer."
"How did you know I was lying?" Polly asked gratefully, as the older woman led her down the corridor to the kitchen.
"The tears were quite evidence enough," Mrs Actrol murmured as she opened the door of the larder, emerging a few seconds later with a bottle of brandy that Polly sometimes used for cooking. "Though the manner in which you slammed the door was what gave the game away. Strong women like you Polly, rarely lose their temper unless it is warranted."
Polly graciously accepted the glass of brandy that Mrs Actrol handed her, and swallowed it in one go. She didn't feel like a strong woman at that particular moment in time. She felt raw and exposed, as though her very skin had been stripped away and her innards were on display for all to see.
"Who was he?" Mrs Actrol prompted, after a few moments of silence.
"Just a man that broke my heart," Polly shrugged, and gave her friend a watery smile.
"Well, he's lucky you didn't break his nose, and that you took your anger out on the door instead," Mrs. Actrol responded with a wicked cackle, most at odds with her respectable, matronly appearance.
"I don't think I'll be able to restrain myself from doing just that, if I see him again," Polly muttered darkly, the brandy stoking the fires of anger in her belly. How dare he presume that he could return to her life with just one quick apology and a lopsided smile?
"Well, don't hold back on my account, dear," Mrs Actrol gave a wicked smile, "You know I'm always looking for material to inspire my next book."
Polly laughed, and the act itself calmed her; life would go on as it had, and James Black would hopefully disappear on whatever ship he had come in on. Everything will be fine, Polly told herself, even though she was acutely aware that she still cradled the hand he had touched, and that frissons of tension seemed to emanate from the very spot that their skin had met.
CHAPTER SIX
In the years since he had left Newcastle as a wet behind the ears young tar, Captain James Black had seen many things. On his first voyage to sea, he had witnessed Napoleon's ships appear on the horizon during the horrific battle of Trafalgar, and the bloody violence which had followed. Over the years he had fought men bare handed, had blades held against his neck by pirates, and had even been run through with a sword--but never had he felt such abject fear as he did now.
