“You wanted to see me, Captain?” he asked warily.
The wariness was more of a leftover sensation than anything. He had nothing against Captain Jones. No, it was these new thoughts of making a home here in Billingham that were chafing at him just now.
He was never supposed to stay. Not forever, at least. He’d promised Marcus and his new wife that he’d keep an eye out for a while. Just while his leg healed and while there might be danger still about.
Just while he figured out where he ought to go next.
London, he supposed. There was always work to be had at the docks.
Captain Jones was slightly out of breath when he reached Caleb’s side. “Coming from the house, eh?”
“Yes, Captain.” He used the same deferential tone that the naval officers used. After all, a captain was a captain even if this man was never his captain.
For a moment his mind wandered. What sort of man would he have been if his father had sent him off to the military instead of selling him off as an indentured servant? Little better than a slave. He’d been rescued right alongside the slaves on that dreadful ship and made a free man by that first pirate crew.
Captain Jones was eyeing the house on the hill with a narrowed gaze, concern etched on his creased features. “I suppose you heard the news then.”
Caleb stiffened. “News?”
“One of my men—Eddleston, you remember him?”
“Aye, I remember.” He winced at the memory of a scrawny looking youth who’d somehow gotten entangled in Marcus’s plot to catch the smuggler on these shores.
In truth it hadn’t been the smugglers he was after, but the leader of the pirate crew that was funneling their contraband through these shores. That was the real villain—rumors had been swirling at every port they’d stopped at this past year.
Those rumors had led them here.
To Abigail.
He shook off the thought. They’d led him to Abigail and her entire family, not to mention this little town with no prospects. “What of the boy?”
“He was on watch last night,” Captain Jones said, his fingers fussing with the edge of his white mustache as he was prone to do when he was concerned.
These were the sort of things Caleb had trained himself to notice. People’s tells. Those little movements that betrayed what they were thinking.
That was the only reason he’d been so worked up about Abigail’s distress. It was out of character, that was all.
“He thought he saw some movement near the old barracks.”
The old barracks was the uninhabitable part of the old fort that the small naval establishment used for ammunition storage and the like. It was where they’d taken the gold and antiquities that Marcus and Caleb had brought ashore to draw out the smugglers.
Caleb narrowed his eyes as he mulled over the possibility of Roger or one of his mates being foolish enough to come back for the loot they’d left behind.
He had a flash of Roger’s flared nostrils, the quivering lips, the weak chin, and the way he’d used Abigail as a human shield.
A growl slipped out before he could stop it.
Yes, Roger was definitely foolish enough. And no doubt desperate, to boot. They all knew Roger wasn’t the master villain here. He wasn’t behind the piracy and there was no way he was smart enough to be the mastermind behind the smuggling operation. He was just a middle man, and that made him fair game. The first pawn to fold in a fight.
“You think he’s back?” Caleb asked.
“Him or one of his ilk.” The captain’s voice was mild, but he couldn’t hide the concern in his eyes. Understandably. He’d heard the rumors about this captain. How he’d risen in the ranks to become a glorified leader in the British navy...until he walked away for his family. Seemed that shortly after the war with France ended, his wife had disappeared at sea—she’d been pronounced dead, that much he knew—and the captain had left his ship, along with the money and the glory that came with it. And all so he could raise his girls in peace.
He’d given up his position of command to man this old stone frigate, which kept watch over this sparsely populated bit of shoreline.
The captain was a devoted father, no one could doubt that. And right now, he was clearly a concerned one at that.
“I’ll look into it,” Caleb said.
Her father looked like he might argue. He had a crew of his own men right here. But most of them were young and untrained, sent here when there was nowhere else for them to go. This motley crew was hardly fierce and battle-worn. Not like Caleb.
The captain nodded. He started to move away when Caleb stopped him. “Your daughter.”
Captain Jones glanced up with an arched brow. “Which one?”
“Miss Abigail.”
The captain’s lips twitched. “What about her?”
“She shouldn’t be going to Thermon on her own.”
The captain’s brows came up slightly, but he gave a short nod. “Are you offering to accompany her?”
A sensation he’d never felt before made it difficult to stand still. He had the unpleasant sensation that the captain was...laughing at him.
He supposed Abigail got her sense of humor from him. She was the only other person who dared to laugh when he spoke.
When he didn’t immediately answer, the captain glanced over his shoulder at the fort with its crumbling stone walls. “I could have one of my men go with her—”
Caleb cut him off with a scoff. One of those skinny young officers? Most of them were no more than boys. Might as well have Hattie or Nicholas looking after her. “I’ll do it.”
The captain’s brows hitched again but it wasn’t surprise in his old wizened eyes. “Very well. So long as her maid stays with you at all times.”
He nodded. “Of course.”
The captain eyed him thoughtfully. “I’ll admit, I’ll feel more comfortable if you’re at her side.”
Caleb shifted, already turning to
