Kiss From a Rogue Read Online Free Page A

meet with him?”
    Tony sighed. He really didn’t have much of a choice. “Yes.”
    Ben stood, clapped his hands together once. “Splendid. He’s expecting you tomorrow at ten. You can discuss specifics, come to an amicable agreement.” Ben glanced at the door, then back at Tony.
    “Go to her, you randy, besotted fool.”
    With a grin, Ben slapped him on his good shoulder and strode from the room.
    Tony slumped in his chair. Ben’s joy permeated the place, inescapable. He had to get out of the house. Go beat his former best friend to a pulp.
    He suddenly remembered what was happening on Thursday, and leaped out of his chair.
    Less than an hour later, Tony stepped out of a hansom cab, took a deep whiff of salty air tinged with day-old fish, and coughed. He threaded his way through the doxies and costermongers on the docks, to the slip where Nick’s brig was moored.
    “What the hell did you do to me?” he shouted when Nick waved at him from the deck.
    “Do? Old chum, I did nothing to you. Come aboard.” Nick gestured for Tony to walk up the plank.
    “You must think me daft. I have no intention of setting foot on that blighted dinghy ever again.”
    Nick threw his head back, let out a far too hearty laugh, and swaggered down the plank. “Keep loading, swabbies,” he shouted up to the deck.
    “Aye, Captain,” came the chorus of replies. His crew continued to swarm over the deck and dock, loading casks and barrels.
    Tony eyed the stack of provisions. “Still leaving on the evening tide?”
    “Sure I can’t persuade you to join me?” Nick threw his arm around Tony’s shoulder, leading him to a nearby coffeehouse. “Jonesy has another brew he’d like you to try, certain to cure your green gills.”
    “The last cure nearly killed me.” Tony shrugged off the arm, which was putting pressure on his injured shoulder.
    “Don’t be sore. Oh, that’s it, you are sore.” Nick gave another hearty laugh.
    “It’s your fault.” Tony pointed at his damaged shoulder. “I would never have done this if you hadn’t gotten me foxed.”
    “What could I do? You were admiring the tattoo on Jonesy’s arm. Seemed only right to let you get one of your own.”
    What could possibly have been on the first mate’s arm that prompted him to get one like it? Nothing; Nick was still joshing him. Nick had pulled more than his share of pranks—years ago, they’d met in the headmaster’s outer office because of his penchant for pranks. This was just one more. Only this time, there would be no scrubbing off the whitewash.
    Tony drew breath to argue, but was cut off by Nick’s shout of “Alistair!” and enthusiastic wave.
    Standing head and shoulders above the unwashed crowd, their friend changed direction and headed toward them in front of the coffeehouse. “Thought the plan was to see you off at the dock,” Alistair said as he drew abreast of them.
    “Tony needed coffee.”
    “Still hung over? Didn’t think you’d had all that much to drink.”
    Tony opened the coffeehouse door and stepped through first. “Nick wants to flirt with the serving wench one last time before he goes to sea.”
    “Good lord, man, it’s only a two-week voyage.” Alistair pushed his coattails aside as he took a seat at their favorite table. Nick and Tony followed suit.
    “Two weeks—an entire fortnight during which I shall have to abstain from sweet curves, long hair, gentle voices, and soft skin.” Nick trailed a finger down the hand of the serving wench who came to take their order. She giggled and blushed, and left with their request for coffee and biscuits.
    “Perhaps you should hire a better-looking crew,” Tony suggested.
    “I don’t know that’s necessary.” Alistair appeared to give the matter grave consideration. “Jonesy wears his hair in a long queue, and your bosun’s voice has been soft ever since his throat was crushed in a fight. Where was that, Barbados?”
    Nick laughed. “Le Havre, actually.”
    They reminisced