Silence Is Golden (Storm and Silence 3)

Oh God! Please don’t let it be Lord Dalgliesh!

Mr Ambrose didn’t seem concerned, to judge by his expression. But, he being Mr Ambrose, his expression didn’t really mean much of anything. It wasn’t until he spoke that I was put at ease.

‘The Midas and the Croesus, Mr Linton. They will be accompanying us to Argentina.’

Midas? Croesus? With names like these, it wasn’t very hard to figure out who those ships belonged to. I stared at Mr Ambrose.

‘You own more than one ship? You have three?’

He returned my gaze, coolly. ‘I have a fleet of ships, Mr Linton. These are by no means the largest - although, after the Mammon, they are the fastest.’

I swallowed. Sometimes, I tended to forget the kind of wealth he commanded. I glanced back at the Midas and the Croesus, and couldn’t help notice that, for merchant vessels, they were unusually well armed.

‘Do you expect any trouble with pirates?’

‘No. No pirates.’

I had become quite skilled by now at interpreting the things Mr Ambrose didn’t say.

‘But you are expecting another kind of trouble?’ The kind that requires cannons and guns to survive?

All I got in answer was silence, and the lapping of the waves against the bow. I waited. Nothing came. Mr Ambrose stood on deck, so stiff and hard you might have suspected him of wanting to become the Mammon’s figurehead.

Oh, well… Why should I care if he didn’t want to talk? Whatever trouble awaited us in South America couldn’t possibly be worse than a gaggle of suitors and potential grooms, right?

No.

Wrong. So very wrong. But I didn’t know that back then.

Welcome to Argentina

The sun burned down on my face with an intensity that made it very clear I was no longer in England, or anywhere near its shores. And what was I doing? Lying in a hammock, enjoying the warmth on my skin?

Not bloody likely!

‘Faster, Mr Linton! Haven’t you ever tied a stopper knot before?’

‘Much as it might surprise you, Sir,’ I grunted, tugging at my hand with all the force I could muster, trying desperately to free it from the tangle of rope around my fingers, ‘sailing knots are not considered an essential part of the education of an eligible young London lady!’

‘You don’t say.’

‘Will you just keep standing there annoying me, or are you going to bloody help?’

‘I thought I was going to just focus on the annoying. But since you evidently won’t get the work done alone…’

Letting his words trail off, he stepped forward and gripped the entangled knot of rope and fingers that held my hands captive. Strong, elegant, long fingers closed over mine. I wanted to shout a warning, wanted to threaten him with bodily harm if he accidentally ripped one of my fingers off - but before I could get a word out, the knotted rope fell apart and slipped to the ground.

I stared at my freed hands.

‘How did you do that?’

‘Practice, Mr Linton. Try again.’

‘Why do I have to? You have plenty of sailors on board.’

‘Yes. But if you know how to sail, I will have to pay one less crew member on our next voyage.’

I threw him a disgruntled look. ‘You really are the most abominably stingy skinflint in the history of mankind, aren’t you?’