Her Wicked Captain: The River Rogues, Book 1 Read Online Free Page B

knife’s sharp tip in the cork, he heard a whistle above the grunting animals.
    “I hope that’s for your eyesight, Rory,” Philadelphia Samuels called. Dressed in an unbecoming calico frock, the woman glided down the pig trail that ambled between boulders and hardwood trees to the barn, carrying an enormous covered basket.
    He slid the elixir bottle into his vest pocket and straightened to greet her. Yesterday, he’d barely recognized the coy young woman as his former playmate until she’d hiked her skirts and bounded off his boat to aid the slave on the shore.
    Her Achilles’ heel had always been her desire to rescue others. Back then it had only been frogs and baby otters.
    “Maybe you bought something to help you find your way back to the Mississippi?” she teased. As she walked closer, he noted a confident gleam in her dark eyes, though her knuckles were white, tightening her grip on the hefty-looking basket.
    He twirled the knife in his hand, unable to stop his smile. “If either of us needs help findin’ the way back to Memphis, it’s you, Dell.”
    Now she acted more like the girl he remembered, a six-year-old minx who’d worn her long hair in silken black pin-curls and whose sharp tongue and strong opinions caused him much consternation as she shadowed him along the waterfront and aboard Moreaux’s fleet.
    Their conversation yesterday had convinced him she’d forgotten him or that he’d changed too much.
    New excitement charged through him at her greeting. Perhaps she’d even come looking for him.
    Dell’s delicate sable brows rose with feigned challenge. “So you do know me. I thought you’d forgotten.”
    “Some things are easier to forget than others. Reverend Miller told me your mama is deceased. I am very sorry to hear that.” Very sorry indeed. Bringing Eleanor Moreaux back to Quintus would’ve saved their asses. No one could curtail his violence like that woman and her ability to get under his skin—to see a man’s thoughts and read his mind.
    Dell’s face paled and she moved to stand in the shade of a tall pin oak nearby. Rory followed, his heart heavy for bringing up the matter.
    “Pneumonia,” she offered quietly. “She had the sickness bad when she left Quintus.”
    “I’m sure you miss her. But I hear you’re doing well.” He stuck his blade in the tree.
    Quintus would be grieved to hear the news about his wife, but Rory knew what the gambler really wanted. A trophy to show off to his rivals. With the distraction and misplaced trust in a stepdaughter, his boss would suffer a devastating loss at the card table to Bartholomew Wainwright, the one opponent he would risk all to defeat. With Dell’s help, Rory felt sure he could make that happen.
    With enough of a loss, the monster would lose the ships to a better man, freeing them all.
    As a child, Dell had no apparent idea the monster her stepfather was—how Rory had kept her from suffering his wrath so many times. She’d tried hard to impress the one person in her life no one ever impressed—at least not outside of gaming halls. Young and artless, she never recognized she was the very last person who could please Quintus, being the constant reminder of Eleanor’s infidelity.
    Now perhaps she could be everything Eleanor had been then—an uncanny people-reader at the tables and the walking embodiment of Lady Luck.
    If he could convince Dell to return with him, he would keep her as safe as he had then. He would teach her how to handle frisky customers, and he would always be around to rein in dissatisfied gamblers. Being her protector came naturally, as he’d always admired her spirit.
    “We do all right.” Dell’s soft words brought his mind back from his plans. She lowered her eyes and fidgeted with the linen covering her basket. “I read cards some, and my uncle sells a lot of moonshine. You probably wouldn’t think we have much, being from the city.”
    His heart sped slightly with anticipation. So Eleanor had