She pressed her fingers to her temples to cease the spinning of her thoughts. When that didn’t work, she squeezed her eyes shut tight. What Cain claimed was
impossible.
At a complete loss, she lifted her gaze to Cain’s. “I…” She blinked, long and slow. “Cain, it’s false. North Atlantic Freight would never transport slaves.” Rubbing at the deep crease on her forehead, she sought to make sense of the conflicting claims. “Who told you this? What books did you see?”
Cain withdrew, separating himself a good five feet. He tipped his head and studied her with such an intensely probing look she’d have sworn he could see clear through to her soul. Mistrust dimmed the vivid blue of his eyes. “You mean to tell me you know nothing of this?”
She flattened her hand over her heart and willed him to believe. “On all that is holy, Cain, I know nothing about what you claim.”
He raised a suspicious eyebrow. “And your father?”
“He would die before he ever entered the slave trade.” As Cain’s expression tugged with skepticism, she hurried to add, “Even if he didn’t abhor the practice, my mother did. He’s been faithful to her in word, and deed, for eighteen years. He would
never
disgrace her memory that way.” Besides, what her father would do had little relevance in the matter. While he set rigid constraints on North Atlantic Freight, he relinquished ultimate power over the line to
India
.
With derisive snort Cain shook his head. “You would be surprised what ends a man will go to for a bit of fortune.”
Not her father. He didn’t
need
to increase his profits by going against his principles or betraying her. “No, Cain, you cannot fault my father.” She took a deep breath. She could tell him only one thing that would change his mind. “He doesn’t own North Atlantic Freight.”
351
Bound By Decency
17
H
aving heard all he wished to hear of
India
’s lies, Cain pursed his lips. That she believed her father incapable of such an act didn’t particularly surprise him. But that she’d stand by her ludicrous faith, when he had clearly seen the evidence of William Prescott’s acts, struck Cain with the urge to close the distance between them and shake sense into her. If she’d been a man, he’d have smashed his fist into her nose for presuming he’d believe the falsehoods she spoke.
He took a step forward, but kept his hands tucked firmly against his thighs. His temper, however, he unleashed. “Bloody hell,
India
! I’ve seen the documents establishing the fleet. Your father’s name is all over them. I’m not the fool you seem to believe I am.”
“No, you’re no fool. You’re just…misinformed.”
“Misinformed?” On the heels of his bellow, a wealth of insults rose to the back of his throat. He choked them back, unable to spout such foul words to a woman. With great difficulty, he trained his emotions into line and leaned a shoulder against the wall. In the tone he took with seamen who denied misdeeds he had witnessed firsthand, he stated in a low, even manner, “Do tell me how I’m misinformed.”
Unblinking, she held his accusing glare. “I own North Atlantic Freight, Cain. Not my father.”
Like the sudden calm before a storm, all the wind fled his angry sails. He stared, unable to find words.
She
owned the tiny fleet? He’d heard of women taking up business these last few years, but British gentility denounced the practice. Women’s roles still revolved around the home, the tending of the family.
She must have sensed his disbelief, for she offered him a hesitant smile. “My father never wanted me involved in trade. Although he indulged me as a child, when I showed true interest in shipping, he did everything he could to keep me away from it. Little did he know, a war would force him to relent.”
A deep sense of foreboding descended on Cain as he listened to the easy cadence of
India
’s explanation. He had met some of the world’s most skilled liars, and not one of them could justify their stories without shifting their eyes or hesitating with their words.
India
’s bold frank manner took on a clearer definition. However this would end, he became absolutely certain he had no desire to hear the outcome.
India
rose to her feet and crossed to his desk
,
where she picked up the crystal decanter of arrack. A wry smirk lifted one corner of her mouth, a look so self-satisfied it contrasted with everything he knew about her. “It seems men will do about anything if they are forced to go too long without spirits.”
She pulled out the stopper, held it beneath her nose, and inhaled. With a grimace, she plugged the container. “The nobility possess a certain, shall we say,
weakness
for French wine. But when
England
is at war with
France
, trade’s forbidden.” Chuckling, she set the decanter back on his desk. “Unless the merchant can become both French and English. For then, you see, they trade with themselves, not with enemies.”
Cain’s forehead knotted as he tried to untangle her words. “No, I don’t see.”
“My mother was French, Cain. Related to Louis himself, who was more than happy to consider me French as well. With the obscene profits to be made by exporting wine, he had no qualms registering North Atlantic Trade as a French company.”
Against his will, Cain’s jaw dropped. He heard what would come next
,
long before words slipped from her throat. By the devil! William Prescott was no better than a privateer.
India
’s smirk morphed into a dazzling smile. “I see you follow now.” She picked up his ledger and held it out before her. “His Majesty’s officials were equally inclined to register North Atlantic Trade as English, under my father’s name.”
He shook his head to clear the fog of speechlessness. “Good God! That’s ingenious.”
She drummed her fingers against his ledger, drawing his eye to the slender grace of her hands. “Father, however, wasn’t terribly delighted. If word should have spread that I was involved with the line, it would have put a black mark upon his reputation. The whole thing quite disgusted him. To illustrate his dislike for the way the officials pressed his hand, he washed his hands of the venture in hopes it would fail.”
At her light laugh, Cain’s heart kicked hard against his ribs. As he looked upon the woman who had once seemed so simple, a foreign sense of pride filled his veins. She was no mere woman. No temperamental lady born to wealth who sought only the pampered life. She possessed sense. And damned if she didn’t harbor the same ability to take amusement in the unconventional as he did.
“So, I did what any good owner would do—I made the line work.” She set his ledger on the desk and smoothed her hands down her thighs. With a one-shoulder shrug, her grin returned. “When Father saw the first profit, he reluctantly agreed to let me stay on. But he set constraints. He demanded I hire a man to handle the day-to-day management, and he refused to contribute more than three ships from the
Prescott
fleet.”
Seriousness returned, and her smile dimmed. “We run three times a year. All other times my ships are at anchor in Marseille.”
They weren’t, and Cain hated to be the man who broke the news to her. While he no longer doubted her sincerity, or her ignorance to the shipment of slaves, the truth remained—he’d seen the ledgers Richard produced. Whatever
India
believed
her fleet was doing, what lay in the columns of figures told a bold tale of betrayal.
He rubbed at the jagged scar across the back of his hand. “What involvement does Richard have with North Atlantic Freight?”
“Richard?”
India
shook her head, adamant. “None. He wants nothing to do with the line. However, he’s agreed to allow me to expand it once we are wed.” Her eyes twinkled as she added, “Father will have a fit. But as full partner, and my husband, Richard assures me Father will concede.”
Knowing Richard, whatever promises the bastard had made were bald-faced lies. Their conversation two months before Cain’s arrest made any promise to turn full power over to
India
nothing more than pretty words. Another means of obtaining what he wanted.
Only a fool would fail to notice
India
’s enthusiasm over her tiny fleet. Which left her wide open for manipulation.
However, that same enthusiasm explained her unfaltering loyalty to her intended. Richard offered the one promise her father refused. If she damaged her standing with him, she stood the very real risk of losing everything.
A loss she’d suffer no matter how true she remained.
Cain rubbed at his scar a bit harder then shoved away from the wall and settled into the chair. Gesturing at the bed across from him, he indicated she should sit as well. As she wove her way in that direction, his gaze followed the subtle sway of her hips. In a rush, memories of how that supple flesh perfectly fit against his palms leapt to life. His loins warmed in response, and he shifted in his seat to alleviate the sudden
stirring
of his cock. He tore his gaze away from her delectable little bottom. With effort
,
he forced himself to concentrate on the subject at hand, not the tantalizing thought of the far more enjoyable parlay he would prefer to engage in.
“What if I told you
,
that somehow, Richard has employed your fleet?”
India
’s head snapped up as she sat on the edge of the bed. “What do you mean?”
Cain shifted again, although this time, his discomfort had little to do with unsatisfied lust. The sharpness of her voice warned battle loomed ahead. It wouldn’t be easy to open her eyes to the truth.
He took care to measure his words and keep his tone gentle. “Richard has manipulated someone in your employ and uses North Atlantic Freight to transport slaves,
India
.”
“He would never!” she cried as she bolted to her feet. She stuffed her hands on her hips, her fierce glare of warning a testament to her belief in her intended. “You sully his honor.”
A heavy sigh escaped him. By Triton she didn’t intend to make this easy. It would take more than words to lift the veil from her eyes. He shouldn’t have expected anything less. Richard possessed a silver tongue that cloaked his serpent’s demeanor. To all who met him, he was the epitome of gentlemanly conduct, not the cutthroat Cain knew him to be.
Knowing only one way to prove his claims weren’t false, he eased out of his chair and went to his footlocker. From within, he produced a two-foot square crate with a heavy padlock. He took the locked box to his chair and set it on the floor.
“What are you doing?” she asked with a frown.
He ignored her question, went to his desk, and rummaged through the top drawer until he found a small skeleton key. Taking the tiny bit of metal back to his chair, he dropped into the seat and planted one bare foot on the crate. “Please sit?”
She flounced onto the mattress with a quiet mutter.
Cain leaned back in the chair and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “You asked how I came to this. Do you really wish to know?”
“Yes.” The agitated arch of her eyebrows smoothed as she leaned back on her hands. Long dark hair brushed against the quilt, and her supple breasts thrust forward, a distraction he could ill afford. While he would much prefer abandoning the discussion for a few stolen moments of feeling that soft flesh beneath his mouth, it occurred to him he wanted her trust. Her
full
trust, not just the faith he would not harm her.
One shove of his foot sent
the crate
scooting across the slight distance between them to stop before her toes. She glanced at it, but made no attempt to investigate further. Her gaze returned to his, intense and probing. As if she sought to untangle the thoughts that ran rampant in his mind. Under the unsettling light, Cain’s pulse stuttered.
He cleared his throat to stifle the unexpected tightening of his gut. “You know of Cain.”
“I daresay everyone does. You, Drake, Nightshade, and Royce have made the posts as frequently as Vane.”
Cain had to chuckle at her exaggeration. True,
T
he Flying Gang earned the public’s awareness, but Charles Vane was a legend unto himself. Nevertheless, the reputation that preceded Cain made this conversation easier to a degree. At least he didn’t have to explain each detail of his sordid past.
“I wager also, you haven’t heard of Knobby.”
“Knobby?” Her features wrinkled with confusion.
“A name given to a man
whose
pinkie finger was severed at the second joint. Do you know anyone who might fit that description?”
India
’s eyes turned as round as saucers. Visibly, her throat worked in a hard swallow. Her response answered everything Cain sought to discover. She’d made the connection between her intended and the unfamiliar name.
“Richard sailed as my first mate for many years with, and without, letters of marque. Two years ago, we barely survived an encounter with the Navy that caused us to reevaluate our habits. For a while I had nursed the idea of entering honest trade, particularly with the acquisition of the French holdings in
Canada
. I didn’t realize it then, but Richard wanted to enjoy the success of the English-only slave trade in
Spanish America
.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but when Cain lifted his hand to beg her off, she closed it once more.
He continued with a light chuckle. “As you’ve discovered, I was never strong at records. Richard desired a land-based life. Everything fell into place, and he assumed the management while I stayed on the sea under my given name, Theodore.”
“Teddy,” she murmured. “No wonder Cain vanished. Rumor had it you died in the
Indies
.”
A grin tugged at his mouth. “As you can see, I’m quite alive. I left the brotherhood of rovers,
India
. By choice. The acquaintances I made—Drake, Royce, Nightshade, and the others—had enough respect for me to leave my wares alone. That is how we succeeded in such a short time.”
“So what made you change your mind? Why’d you turn on my father’s vessel?”
He leaned forward to brace his elbows on his knees and better look into her eyes. “I didn’t,
India
.”
She frowned in certain confusion. “But you did. You were arrested. You petitioned Richard’s help for a pardon, which he denied, and you almost hung.”
“No.
Richard
staged the attack. I don’t know how precisely, but before I left for Charles Towne, we argued over the slave trade. He presented me the ledgers for North Atlantic Freight and showed me the profits to convince me into the practice.” His eyes narrowed a fraction as he held her gaze. “I refused, and I became an obstacle to the wealth he desires. Wealth and opportunity
you
provide.”