Page 97 of Dangerous

Adam snorted. If, if, if. “Does that seem likely after almost twenty years?”

“I’ve heard of no other escapes from the sultan’s palace.”

It seemed like a lot to take on faith, but Adam had no other ideas. “You will leave a boat waiting on shore for us just in case this all goes badly?”

“Oui.”

“What if you don’t hear anything from the Ghost?”

“If I hear nothing by dark, I will go to Gibraltar and wait.”

Adam eyed the other man closely. Something about his words didn’t quite ring true.

“You won’t try to rescue anyone—Ramsay or his men? You’ll leave immediately and take my wife to Gibraltar.”

“Nom d’un chien!” The Frenchman turned to glare at him. “I already say I will, eh?” he snapped in broken English.

Adam nodded. “I don’t doubt your word. It’s just that my wife can be rather ... insistent.”

Adam let the other man’s temper cool while he ran the rest of Ramsay’s plan through his head for the thousandth time. The baron had tried to prepare for all eventualities. If Adam and Ramsay didn’t return, the Ghost would get away from Oran and wait in the shallows a half-day’s journey to the west. The ship would wait there in case something prevented the landing party from reaching the Scythe after they left the sultan’s palace. Adam tried not to think about that, even though he had taken time to memorize the hand-drawn map Ramsay had sent with the note.

If he somehow lost contact with Ramsay, he did not fancy his chances of finding his way across miles of foreign countryside, where he didn’t speak the language and would stand out like a sore thumb.

He drew deeply on the cigar before blowing out a billowing cloud. “Ramsay must have friends here if he is so confident of acquiring supplies.”

“Ramsay has friends everywhere.”

“They will not disclose his plans to Assad’s men?” Adam could believe Ramsay would have friends, but so must the young sultan.

“No. He is a hero to many. Also, he is very good at disguising himself.”

Adam had a hard time believing Ramsay could disguise his six and a half feet anywhere, but he let the matter lie. “You know his crew well?”

Bouchard nodded, blowing a circle of smoke, and then blowing another inside it. Adam was impressed. “Yes, most of them were on the Ghost with me. They are good men, especially Delacroix, his captain.”

“You’ve met Lady Exley’s son, as well?” Adam couldn’t help wondering what he could expect from the son of a sultan, a young man accustomed to receiving absolute obedience from his father’s subjects.

Bouchard smirked. “Yes. He is . . . arrogant.”

Coming from Bouchard this was quite a declaration.

“He fights for his father’s empire but I think he knows that way of life is over. Even under the old sultan there were many changes. Slaving isn’t so easy anymore. Jibril is smart enough to know that.” He shrugged. “I think maybe half a year of fighting will make him more amenable to going to England.” He flicked away the butt of his cigar and turned to Adam. “What kind of life would he have in England? He is like me, eh? A half-caste.”

Adam studied the younger man, giving his question the consideration it deserved. Bouchard was certainly unusual-looking. Even with his fair hair and light eyes one would never mistake him for an Englishman. If Mia’s son were similarly exotic, there would be no hiding his background and he would need to be a strong man to endure the endless snubs.

Adam tossed away what remained of his cigar. “It won’t be easy. He may view desert warfare with fondness after his first Season in London.”

Bouchard laughed. “Ramsay is like a nagging old mother to get me to go to London. He says I must take a wife who will like my money and civilize me. He likes to”—he paused, his hand churning the air as he searched for the correct idiom—“stir the kettle?”

“Stir the pot. Yes, I can well believe that. Ramsay has an odd sense of humor.”

“Ah, milord, he is a constant tormentor and far too big a brute to thrash. I am glad he is on his own ship. No doubt he has driven Delacroix to the end of his rope.” He laughed at something he did not bother to share and turned to Adam. “Take my cabin tonight. I will keep watch and come get you when it is time to go.”

Adam nodded, grateful the man didn’t pry. He wouldn’t sleep; he would write the letter he should have written to his wife before he ever married her.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Mia was not surprised when Bouchard stopped her at the top of the stairs.