Chapter Twenty-seven

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The Dancing Pig tavern was a seedy place indeed. It was populated by an unruly misfit group of drinkers, gamblers, ladies of questionable repute, and not a few patrons who were wholly incapacitated at far too early an hour in the day. A few of them had passed out under broken tables and stools and were being licked by dogs who’d wandered in from the streets in search of their leftovers and meat-stained clothing.

Daphne fought the urge to daintily step over the refuse and old food that was strewn across the filthy floors. Instead, true to her role as a cabin boy, she pretended she didn’t even notice it. She let her boots slide through the muck, maintaining a blank face as she and Rafe made their way to a table on the far end of the place away from the windows. Apparently smugglers (or whatever they were called) disliked windows.

“Sit behind me. Pretend you’re not listening. Concentrate on your drink. And don’t say a word,” Rafe ordered under his breath, calling to the barmaid to bring over two mugs of ale.

“I remember,” Daphne whispered back.

The barmaid soon arrived. She whistled when she saw Rafe. “My, aren’t ye a good-lookin’ one, eh?” Daphne was just about to roll her eyes when she realized the barmaid was talking about her . “Ye’r a pretty boy, ain’t ya?” The woman batted her eyelashes at Daphne.

Heat rushed to Daphne’s cheeks. She ducked her head and pulled her cap down over her forehead. Rafe’s laughter followed. “You’ll have to excuse my friend,” he said. “He’s not particularly, ahem, experienced.”

Daphne’s face grew even hotter and she tugged her cap down farther.

The barmaid giggled. “Oy, but I’d like ta teach ’im a thing o’ two.” She must have turned toward Rafe. “Ye ain’t too bad-looking yerself, guv. Interested in a quick tumble?”

Daphne pressed her lips together and counted ten. Granted, the blond she’d found in Rafe’s bed had been a sight better looking and more refined than this tavern barmaid but it still brought back the memory to poke at her. It would be just like Rafe to take the barmaid up on it. If they weren’t just about to meet the smugglers, no doubt he would. He hadn’t allowed his work to stop him last time.

“No, but thank you for the offer, kind lady,” Rafe said. “My friend here will be certain to let you know if he changes his mind.”

Rafe laughed and Daphne slunk lower in her chair. The barmaid sashayed off and Daphne pulled her mug of ale from the table in front of her. She peered down into the dark liquid.

Ale was revolting. This Daphne already knew from the last time she’d falsely ordered one, which had also been the last time they were in a dockside tavern. She’d tentatively tasted it and promptly wished to spit it out. It wasn’t as if spit wasn’t commonplace in such an establishment. But even pretending to be a cabin boy, she couldn’t bring herself to spit on the floor. Instead, she’d just ever-so-carefully lifted the mug to her lips again and deposited the contents back inside. Later, she’d pretended to accidentally knock the mug to the dirt floor and shrugged when Rafe gave her a why-the-hell-did-you-do-that glare.

This time she didn’t even bother with a sip. She still wasn’t entirely over her bout with alcohol from two nights ago. She had no intention of downing more of the hideous stuff. She shuddered. Then she concentrated on assuming her role as a bored cabin boy hanging around a tavern waiting for his captain to finish his business. She’d spent a fair amount of time before their last mission studying the actions of young boys. She’d even asked Donald for suggestions. Donald, of course, had been quite a different sort of boy than a cabin boy would be, but one thing she learned was that boys loved to lean on the two back legs of their chairs whenever possible. She’d practiced quite a bit and nearly perfected the art at home, though Mama had walked in on her once in the breakfast room and gave her a look as if she’d taken leave of her senses, then warned her that she could break her neck doing such a thing. Daphne had smiled bashfully and thanked her mother for the warning.

But now, here in the tavern, she kicked away a small pile of leftover bones, and set about balancing on the back two legs of her chair with great aplomb. By the time the two men they were meeting arrived, she’d managed to perfect her balance and hold her mug in the air without spilling.

When the Russians entered the tavern, Rafe darted a look her way and then toward the doors. Daphne continued to balance on her chair but her gaze briefly touched on the two swarthy-looking men and then she looked away. She barely nodded back at him to indicate that she’d seen them.

It didn’t take the men long to locate Rafe and they came marching over soon after. Rafe inclined his head toward the two chairs next to him. The men grabbed the rickety wooden chairs, turned them around, and straddled them. Daphne made a mental note. She’d do the same if she ever pretended to be a swarthy smuggler. Men seemed to like to have their legs spread quite a bit. Fascinating really. Even Rafe, who sat facing forward, had his legs spread open at the knees, boots firmly planted on the dirty floor in front of him.

“Gentlemen,” he said smoothly as soon as the two had taken their seats.

“Captain,” one of the men said gruffly in a thick Russian accent.

Rafe nodded at them both.

“Who’s that?” The second man, who seemed barely taller than Daphne, jabbed a fat finger in her direction. He, too, spoke with a heavy Russian accent.

“You remember my cabin boy, Grey?”

The taller man grunted his apparent approval. But Shorty kept staring at her with beady eyes.

“Grey, say good morning to Anton and Viktor,” Rafe prodded.

“Mornin’,” Daphne mumbled. She pulled at the visor of her cap in greeting and went back to pretending to drink her ale. She remembered them. The taller one was Anton and beady eyes was Viktor. She wouldn’t forget.

The two men barely nodded at her in return greeting and then Rafe leaned forward. Anton and Viktor followed suit. They talked in hushed tones that Daphne struggled to hear. Rafe had warned her that it would be difficult. They were discussing their trade and it would be odd for Rafe to speak of such things in a loud voice. That’s why she’d positioned herself closer to the Russians’ seats than Rafe’s. Still, she’d hoped they would be louder. She held her breath to hear better while trying to appear as if she was not leaning toward them. Spying was downright difficult.

Thankfully, she was able to pick up some of the conversation.

“I can have everything to you tonight,” Rafe finished. “I just need to return to my ship and make the preparations, hire a wherry.”

“After we get it, we’ll need a few days to examine it, for quality,” Anton grunted.

“Of course,” Rafe replied. “How long do you need?”

The two spoke in hushed tones but Daphne made out “Friday.”

“Agreed,” Rafe answered. “But if I wait till Friday, I expect to get the full price immediately. I won’t countenance any last-minute shortages or delays.”

Daphne knew the “price” was the letters Rafe wanted, but they obviously weren’t speaking about it in those terms.

Viktor kept glaring at her with those dark beady eyes of his. She tried to look as if she were whistling a tune to herself. She could only hope he believed it.

“Do we have an agreement?” Rafe finally asked.

The men turned toward each other and began speaking quietly in their native tongue. Daphne caught her breath. This was it. The reason she had come. She continued her balancing act, staring straight ahead of her, desperately hoping the look on her face indicated she was nothing more than a bored cabin boy waiting for her captain to finish his business. But her senses were on high alert. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and her ears prickled. Sweat trailed down between her bound breasts.

She continued to hold her breath, listening intently, fighting against the urge to squeeze her eyes closed she was listening so attentively. And she heard every word.

A few minutes later the men stopped talking and Anton turned to Rafe. “Agreed. Have your men send everything to us. We’ll see you back here on Friday.”