Father's Day (The King's Rogues Book 2) by Elizabeth Ellen Carter & Dragonblade Publishing

Author:Elizabeth Ellen Carter & Dragonblade Publishing [Carter, Elizabeth Ellen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Medieval, Fiction, romance
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2019-05-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

“Captain… yet you rose up through the ranks,” said Kit. “Saw the tattoo on your hand.”

Adam looked down at it. It had been an indelible part of him since he was twenty. Most of the time he forgot it was even there. But it wasn’t always that way. The crossed anchors on the web of his right thumb had barred as many doors as they had opened.

“Royal Navy for twenty years – never got promoted above Bosun because I didn’t have the right connections,” he answered. “Captain is an honorary title…” Adam took a sidelong glance at Daniel. “… for services rendered to the Crown.”

Kit whistled. “Must have been some hell of a service. What did you two do? Stop Napoleon invading England?”

“Something like that.”

A flash of surprise crossed Kit’s face before it settled into a mask of caution. Adam made a silent appeal to Daniel. The truth about the King’s Rogues was not his to tell. And it seemed his former employer was not of a mind to speak about it.

“You’re not the only one who’s led an adventurous life, Kit,” said Daniel who then drained his glass. “I think I’ll join the ladies and leave you two to talk.”

Two voices spoke in unison: “No!”

The captains exchanged wary glances. Daniel picked up the three-quarter’s full decanter of whisky with great deliberation and set it on little pedestal table that stood between two wingback chairs that faced the fire.

“Stay,” Daniel said firmly. “That’s an order. You both have a lot to talk about.”

Their host left the room and closed the door behind him leaving nothing but the sound of the crackling fire to mark the passage of time.

“Well, I won’t knock away another drink,” said Kit, suddenly bright and animated. “Our host has a fine cellar. It would be churlish not to help him lighten it.”

Kit poured a triple measure for himself and raised the decanter in a mute question. Adam released a breath and thrust out his glass. Kit filled it to equal measure and they both slumped into the chairs, the manic energy of a moment ago vanished.

They stared into the flames, drinking in silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Adam watched Kit stretch his right leg and massage it. The cane he carried wasn’t for effect then.

The whisky and fire was enough to occupy him for a while, but now the glass was empty. Refilling was an easy choice but he was conscious of Kit watching him. Damn. Now he was obliged to speak.

“More?”

Kit shrugged his shoulders and nodded, accepting the decanter from his hand.

Adam sipped the whisky for one last kiss of courage and asked a question “So, what happened to you?”

“The leg you mean?”

“No. You. What became of you? I know you were on the Pendragon when it was raided by the Barbary pirates. How old were you? About eleven? Twelve?”

“Ten. I was ten years old. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Adam heard the warning in Kit’s voice and ignored it. The genie was out of the bottle now.

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