Truly a Wife (Free Fellows League 4)

She gave him what she hoped was a come-hither look. “We’ve got a boat, a lake, and you and me. All we need are sunshine, satin pillows, and some rose petals, and my fantasy’s complete.”

“Not quite,” he replied.

“Why not?”

“I hate boats.”

Miranda blinked in confusion.

“I hate boats,” Daniel continued, “all boats. Every boat. Any boat. From the smallest rowboat to the royal yacht.”

“That’s unfortunate in your chosen occupation,” she commiserated, “for smugglers generally use boats as their primary form of transportation.”

“I know,” he reminded her. “And the last time I was in one, I got shot.”

“I see.” Miranda thought for a moment. “Can you swim?”

“Of course.” He sounded a little affronted at having her discover another of his weaknesses.

“You’d be surprised at the number of people who can’t,” she told him, stepping over the pole Daniel had left lying on the bank. “Sailors and smugglers included.”

“Known many sailors and smugglers have you?”

“Two sailors,” she replied. “Neither of whom could swim. And one smuggler who could. Splendid fellow. Unfortunately, his smuggling career is likely to be of brief duration since he doesn’t like boats.” She picked up the pole and placed it inside the boat. “Not that I’d mind, of course, for I rather like the idea of having him home.”

He exhaled. “I’ll be leaving in a few days.”

“On business?” she asked.

“In a manner of speaking.”

“This?” Miranda stared at the boat.

“Yes.”

“The last time you went out like that, you got shot.”

He smiled. “Yes, I know.”

“But …”

“There’s work to be done, Miranda, and a war to be won, and I have a part in winning it.” It was the closest Daniel could come to telling her the truth about the Free Fellows League.

“I see.” Lifting the hem of her sheet to keep from dragging it in the water, Miranda walked over to the boat, waded into the water, and climbed aboard. She doubled the sheet, spread it in the bottom of the boat, and lay down upon it. “Tell me, Your Grace, what is it about this boat you don’t like?”

“The motion,” he admitted. “The rocking.”

“It isn’t rocking now,” she said.

“It will be,” he countered. “As soon as it leaves the bank for open water.”

“How did you make it on your last smuggling run?” she asked.

“I didn’t think about the boat or the water, I only thought about the important job I had to do.”

Miranda smiled a cat-that-ate-the-cream sort of smile and crooked her finger at him. “I’ve a most important job for you to do, Your Grace …”

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