Pure Desperation: Pure Escapades, #5

By Auria Jourdain

An adventure in the American wilderness? What more could a free-spirited noblewoman want?

 

Captain Will Creighton is a wanted man. After a brush with death aboard the Enchanted Lady and defying his commanding officer, Colonel Sandstone's, orders to return his captive the Duchess of Winchester to Fort McHenry, Will and his partner, Dayne Neverwood, come up with an alternate plan: transport her sister, Lady Josephine, in her stead.

 

It should be simple, aye?

 

Unfortunately, the task isn't as easy as it seems. The free-spirited young woman won't leave Will be. While sailing across the Atlantic, the girl had irritated him to no end. She was as noisy as a magpie and her indigo eyes followed him everywhere. But now? She's a menace! Worse, Will must cater to her Highness' every whim while transporting her up the Mississippi to Fort Bellefontaine--if he can get her there alive. Unfortunately, her curvy figure and soft, lilting laugh haunt his dreams. Nay... he can't give in to temptation. He must hand Lady Josephine to Sandstone. His sister's life depends on it.

 

After surviving a squall aboard the Enchanted Lady and landing in New Orleans, the last thing Josie Powell wants is to return to stuffy England and live a mundane life as a baron's wife. Ever since she was a child, she's craved adventure. Volunteering to take her sister's place as Will Creighton's prisoner will be her greatest enterprise yet. Or so she thinks. Alligator attacks, snake bites, logjams, native villages... anything can happen on a trip up the Mississippi River with a bunch of fur traders and a sullen American officer. But losing her heart to her handsome guardian will be the thing that breaks her.

 

Or will it?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Auria Jourdain
• Release date: May 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215182772

Auria Jourdain

History buff, Francophile, and hopeless romantic-- the perfect mixture for writing romance! I have fond childhood memories of reading on quiet afternoons. I loved the "happily ever after" sweet teen romances, but I quickly plunged into the world of historical romance--my get-away-from-real-life transporter. Add in a degree in Political Studies with six years of French--twenty years later, I found a new career. With three published works, I'm still trying to decide which sub-genre is my favorite. I started with historical romances, and two of the six, Pure of Heart and Pure Temptation, are now published. My first YA novel, Spirit of the Northwoods, was released in April of 2016 for my 17 year old autistic son during Autism Awareness month, hoping to spread familiarity about the daily struggles that an autistic person endures. Silence the Northwoods, the first book of my Romantic Suspense trilogy, will be released on January 21, 2017. A spin-off of Spirit of the Northwoods, it has many of the same secondary characters, but it’s strictly for adults. I have a New Adult novel I’m working on for NaNaWriMo 2016, and I’d love to try my hand at a sweet romance YA series in the future. I live in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan with my husband of 21 years and my four children. I spend the long winters plotting and scheming my next book, and in the mild summers, my family and I spend every waking moment we can hiking and kayaking the Northwoods. Living fifteen miles from the shores of Lake Superior, my muse is often piqued by the awe-inspiring beauty that surrounds me. I live where I play, and I can't imagine a more fitting place for me!

Book preview

Prologue

St. Louis, Missouri Territories

Fort Bellefontaine, November 1814

Pardon the intrusion, Colonel, but General Hawthorne needs to see you.

Sauntering across the fort yard toward the livery, Colonel Robert Sandstone scowled as the post adjutant, Lieutenant Elliott Masters, blocked the gates. Halting, Rob clenched his fists. He didn’t have time for this nonsense. His special guests were due in from Nashville at any moment, and he wanted to greet them personally.

The anticipation of gazing into Alicia Baldwin—now Creighton’s—beautiful green eyes sent desire spiraling through him. It had been nearly five years since Rob had seen her. Her husband had been dead nigh on ten. He had waited a long time to be with her.

And nothing will stand in my way.

Sir? The General?

Adjusting his stance, Rob cleared his throat. Thank you, Lieutenant. Inform him I will be along after my guests arrive.

The man held his head high. With all due respect, sir, the General requests your attention immediately.

Rob glared at the younger man. Staring forward, Masters stood at attention, never flinching, unfailingly perfect. Nearing thirty, the dutiful officer had been injured on the field of battle. Like Dayne Neverwood, he hadn’t coped well with his disability.

Like Dayne Neverwood, he’d had a challenging time coping with his disability.

But that is where their similarities ended.

Since his assignment to Bellefontaine two years past, Masters had been nothing but a persistent thorn in Rob’s backside. He had the nose of a hound dog and the ear of the most powerful men in Washington—including the Secretary of War. And they were watching every move Rob and General Hawthorne made.

We mustn’t make them suspicious.

The muscles in Rob’s jaw twitched. Very well. Will you see to my guests? I trust you to make them comfortable in their new quarters. Mrs. Creighton is still mourning the death of her son.

Of course, Colonel. Masters saluted and took up the trek toward the livery.

Anger exploded through Rob as he stormed toward Hawthorne’s office near the southern wall of the fort. What in hades did the man want now? The last thing he needed was a lecture about how his clandestine mission had gone awry.

Their strategy—or more to the point, Captain Neverwood’s suicide mission—had failed. After capturing the Duke of Winchester’s daughters aboard a ship bound for the Americas, Neverwood had met his maker during a monster squall at sea, all but toppling their scheme.

It was ironic, really. As ordered, Neverwood had sacrificed for his country, but he’d left Rob in a horrendous mess with an unfinished assignment that could scupper his final plans. His best officer, Will Creighton, had had to pick up where Neverwood had left off.

Three months past, Will had arranged to transport the ladies Winchester to Bellefontaine and ultimately complete Neverwood’s mission. Unfortunately, Will’s current whereabouts, with the Duchess and her sister in tow, were unknown.

While Rob had every bit of faith that Will would return with their noblewomen in hand, the tides had turned. A perfect storm was brewing. He could feel it in his bones.

Entering the rustic log cabin that housed the General’s quarters and office, Rob strode past Lieutenant Master’s desk and entered Hawthorne’s office on the right. Fortunately, the man’s other lackeys weren’t present. Masters was, of course, occupied.

Rob knocked on the door and pushed it ajar. You wanted to see me, sir?

General Charles Hawthorne glanced up from his correspondence, his blue gaze sharpening as he pressed his thin, wrinkled lips together. Forking his fingers through his snow-white hair, he sighed. Come in, Rob. We must talk.

Sitting in the spindly oak chair across from the ancient wooden desk, Rob studied his commanding officer intently. Sent into the American wilderness to quell the native presence nearly five years past, General Hawthorne had aged significantly. The constant attacks upon their fortified walls weren’t an ideal situation for a man his age. He’d spent most of his nights at the canteen, drinking away his woes. He hadn’t the know-how nor the energy to carry through with their plans.

That’s why he brought me here.

Steepling his fingers in front of him, Rob cleared his throat. You’ve seen better days, sir.

Hawthorne hummed. To be sure. But my time isn’t up yet. I’ll retire with our spoils when I see this mess through to the end. His bushy eyebrows bobbed. I’ve met with Vice Admiral Powell. The man has the notion we’re trying to cut him out of our plans.

Gripping the arms of his chair, Rob snorted. Powell’s delusional. You and he brought me into this. Why would we double cross him? The Brit’s recent arrival from Halifax hadn’t helped the situation. As Vice-Admiral of the British naval forces in Halifax, Jonathan Powell wasn’t a man to cross. They had ordered their staunchest and most trustworthy soldier to rescue Powell’s nieces. Couldn’t the man see that?

It seems he’s received new information. One of his fleets recently discovered Lady Isabelle aboard a merchant ship in Guadeloupe. She’s preparing for transport back to London as we speak. He leaned forward. Why would that be?

Rob bolted up with a curse. "Damnation! They sent her back to her father?"

That isn’t the worst of it, Hawthorne lamented. Lady Isabelle insists Captain Creighton and Captain Neverwood rescued her and Lady Josephine. She lauded Neverwood as a hero. Not a traitor.

Rob frowned. "That information must be skewed. Will’s correspondence clearly stated that Captain Neverwood died aboard the Enchanted Lady leaving Will to escort the ladies Winchester here to be debriefed."

Hawthorne eyed him warily. That may be partially true. Lady Josephine wasn’t with her sister. According to our source, she decided to stay in America for an extended visit.

Neverwood slipped the wool over my eyes.

Rob scowled. The day General Hawthorne and Vice-Admiral Powell had invited him to join this mission, they had given him the sun, moon, and stars. It was the chance of a lifetime to be richer than Croesus. He’d be damned if anyone sabotaged his future.

Pulling on his lapel, Rob cleared his throat. You’re worried for naught, sir. We will see this through.

You have faith that Captain Creighton is on his way here? 

Rob issued a curt nod. Completely. He sent a missive that he has the noblewomen in his custody, and that he would transport them here himself.

And Neverwood is dead.

Yes, sir.

Are you absolutely certain?

Rob glared at his superior officer. "I suppose we’ll find out when my boy returns. And he will return."

Squinting, Hawthorne stood. Indeed. In any event, you’ve taught your lads well. But to what expense? If the girl is dead...

Rob squirmed in his seat. This mission would be for naught if they lost their bait. How will this affect the Vice Admiral’s course of action?

Truthfully, I have no clue. He wanted us to hold both Lady Isabelle and Lady Josephine. That was the only way to persuade his brother to abandon England’s plans to take New Orleans. However, if Lady Isabelle is already on her way home and Captain Creighton fails to return Lady Josephine to us, we’re done for. Hawthorne wiped a wavering hand across his forehead. Secretary Monroe is already suspicious. If he discovers we’ve been scheming with a Vice-Admiral of the British Navy, we’ll be labeled traitors to our country and hanged for sure.

Clearing his throat, Rob held his head high. Will and the woman will be here before the holidays, sir. I give you my word.

Aye, what of your precious Captain Creighton? Hawthorne harumphed. Are you so certain he’s trustworthy? You threatened the man by holding his mother and sister hostage.

I’d never hurt Alicia or her daughter, Rob said. Will knows that. The threat was mainly for Neverwood, to push him on and get this mission accomplished.

You lured them in, but if Creighton returns, you’ll have a lot of explaining to do. To everyone. Alicia Creighton and her daughter will arrive today, but she believes her son is dead. You put that notion into her head.

Rob stiffened his shoulders. Not in so many words, but yes. She has doubts that Will still lives. His grandfather, General Baldwin, hasn’t given up hope. The man is on his deathbed. That’s why he begged Alicia to accept my invitation. By the time Will returns, my lie won’t matter in the least. Alicia and I will be married, and old General Baldwin will have passed on. All loose ends will be tied up.

Hanging his head, Hawthorne sighed. You know as well as I this mission has the fuel to burn us to the ground. If the Duke of Winchester orders the British fleet to storm New Orleans as Powell claims, we’ll be done for. The man is shrewd. He might take advantage of our situation and bamboozle us. He gave Rob a sidelong glance. We may need to abandon the grand plan.

As Hawthorne fidgeted with a stack of papers, Rob glowered at him. How had this man climbed military ranks so quickly? This endeavor had been one blunder after another under his command. He wasn’t fit to hold a candle.

Another Revolutionary war hero wrongly promoted.

Arching an eyebrow, Rob sat forward. You brought me on board for a reason, sir. Despite this delay, I have everything under control. Have I ever aborted a mission when things went awry?

We’ve never attempted such an ambitious feat. If Secretary Monroe catches us—

The American government doesn’t care about the west, General. We have nothing but morons at our disposal, so let’s use them. You and Vice-Admiral Powell found the blasted mine, and we just happen to be stuck in another senseless war. It’s the perfect diversion. Is it not?

Slumping, Hawthorne rubbed his temples. Perhaps. T’is the first opportunity we’ve had to take the land without anyone’s notice, to be sure. This was our last chance. He sighed. I’m sick to death of fighting these savages. I want to have done with it all.

Rob snapped a salute. Allow me to take care of this, sir. I will dispatch my best team down the river to find Will and Lady Josephine. In the meantime have Vice-Admiral Powell send his envoys a message to the Osage. We may need to abandon the far fort, but if we make concessions to our newfound friends, we’ll have no problems. Our operation can continue.

What of President Madison? If he discovers what’s out there—

Leaning over Hawthorne’s desk, Rob growled, He won’t. As long as Powell holds his countrymen—and the Osage—in line and you keep the Secretary of War in the dark, we’ll see this through. Once the Brit has returned to the Canadian territories with his share, we will plunder the vast resources of the west and take it for ourselves.

Hawthorne snorted. You seem awfully sure of yourself, Colonel.

Striding to the door, Rob smirked. Of course, I am, sir. Haven’t I proven my worth? You’ll thank me when we’re living off our riches in the Spanish Territories. Hell, with the Vice-Admiral’s help, we may even take Texas!

TWO MONTHS LATER

January 1815

Oakhurst Hall, Winchester, England

I won’t hear another word, Isabelle. By God, you’ll marry Hertfordshire and be happy about it! If only your sister could share in this joyous occasion.

Crossing her arms over her bosom, Lady Isabelle huffed at her father sitting across from her at the long, mahogany dining table as they broke their fast. Arching a bushy eyebrow, the Duke of Winchester glared at her, challenging her to answer. Lowering her gaze, she sighed. Nothing she said made a difference. It wasn’t worth fighting about.

Anger and condescension weren’t new reactions for her father, but he had been less than cordial to her since her ship had moored in London a fortnight past. Without her sister in tow, she had become his newest enemy. He was taking Josie’s decision to remain in the Americas as an act of war.

And he holds me responsible.

Issy clutched her napkin as she nibbled on a scone. Her father’s demeanor had changed from loving and lighthearted to gruff and irritable in a matter of years. Upon her mother’s death, he had thrown himself into his work. For his efforts, the King had tasked him with seeing to their troops. Unfortunately, the constant battles with France had taken its toll.

Now they had the Americans to worry about as well.

Still, her recent return should have been a joyous time for everyone. She and Josie had defied death, after all. Unfortunately, returning to England had been naught but a death sentence.

Not long after Issy had sailed with Reece and Mary Carrow to the English territories, her father’s British forces had invaded New Orleans only to retreat and leave the city in chaos. Josie and their new friends, Dayne and Lainey Neverwood, had abandoned the city, but that knowledge hadn’t satisfied the duke. To him, America was the most dangerous place one could be, and his youngest daughter was lost amongst heathens.

Her father cleared his throat. The Duke and Duchess of Hertfordshire will be joining us this evening for dinner. He tapped the table tersely. We are insisting that you wed within the month.

As his formidable gaze pierced through her, Issy’s heart pounded furiously. Unable to hold her silence, she shook her head vehemently. Nay! T’is too soon. Josie... I promised we’d wait until she returns. Surely, the Hertfordshire’s will understand these circumstances. She brushed a trembling hand across the angry scar snaking across her forehead.

Stuffing a sausage into his mouth, the duke sneered. If their son will have you. My God, look at you. Who in heaven’s name sewed your head—an Irishwoman you say? Probably drunk when she did it. Now, Josephine is missing. And it’s all your doing. You left her with those barbarians. For shame!

Issy seethed as she picked at her lavish meal. She had grown weary of this daily remonstration. Apparently, she should have forced Josie to return home.

As if that were possible.

Josie was stubborn to a fault. The girl had a wild streak, and once she set her mind upon something, she refused to budge.

Staring at the gilded chandeliers and velvet wallpaper lining the dining room walls, Issy sighed. She didn’t blame Josie one bit. Returning to this godforsaken prison to cater to her ancestors’ whims had given Issy nothing but emotional scars. Although, knowing her sister might be caught in the middle of a skirmish without her help didn’t give her peace of mind. It hadn’t been her choice to split from Josie, after all.

As promised, Issy hadn’t divulged the truth to her father—that two American officers had taken her and Josie as hostages aboard the Enchanted Lady. Not that she’d had to lie entirely. In truth, Captain Neverwood and Captain Creighton had saved her and Josie from a watery grave. Since the men had escorted them safely to port and allowed her to return home, Issy’s loyalties were firmly in their grasp. However, to prove to their commanding officer that they weren’t defying orders, Captain Neverwood and Captain Creighton had decided to lead the man astray. Josie had chosen to stay behind.

Since the men had escorted them safely to port and allowed her to return home, Issy’s loyalties were firmly in their grasp. However, to prove to their commanding officer that they weren’t defying orders, Captain Neverwood and Captain Creighton had decided to lead the man astray. Josie had chosen to go in her stead.

Issy sighed. Worrying about things she had no control over was fruitless. If anyone could her sister through the American wilderness, it was Will Creighton.

If they don’t kill each other first.

Isabelle? The nuptials?

Wiping the smile from her lips, Issy cleared her throat. I need more time, Father. I can’t plan a proper wedding in two months. Surely, the summer will bring better weather. And Josie...

The duke gazed at her sternly. "I cannot wait for your sister to finish her grand tour of the Americas—if she makes it home alive. Hertfordshire is not well. He needs to see his son married before he dies. Did you not state that you would assume your responsibilities upon your return?"

Dabbing her mouth with her napkin, Issy acquiesced. While she usually fought her familial obligations, she had promised to fulfill them. And it would do no good to argue with her father. She didn’t have the energy for his stubbornness. Yes, Father. I understand.

Setting his fork aside, he eyed her submissive behavior suspiciously. Uncle Jonathan arrived last night. He too would like to see his niece married before he returns to Halifax.

She folded her hands in her lap. Did Catherine and Emily travel with him?

Nay. Apparently, he has better sense than to allow his daughters to traverse the sea without a proper escort. Brushing a hand across the back of his neck, the duke grimaced. He has news of the war. Mayhap t’will be in our favor. God knows we could use it.

She sat straighter. Uncle Jonathan will surely have good news. There must have been fifty vessels anchored at Kingston Harbor, preparing for invasion. It was quite the sight.

I don’t have to see them, Isabelle, the duke said coldly. I’ve lived this blasted war the last twenty years. I’m well aware of what our Royal Navy can do.

Issy issued him a grim smile. As her father ranted about those bloody American heathens, she bowed her head. She was tired of trying to please the man.

Placing her napkin beside her plate, she rose. Please excuse me, Father. I must prepare for our guests this evening. With a grunt, the duke dismissed her.

She exited the grand dining room, traversing the magnificent gallery lined with portraits of Winchesters going back centuries. The ornate foyer glistened with gilded mirrors, candlesticks, and anything else that could shimmer and shine. Visitors to Oakhurst Hall often gushed about the lavish décor, from the rich, ivory wall coverings decorated with ornate tapestries to the Venetian marble tiles on the floor. It was indeed a magnificent sight.

The dull ache of loneliness invaded her heart. She used to dream about the day she took control of her ancestral estate. Since her return, she could care less about any of it. Considering recent events, such wealth seemed trivial.

She envied her sister. Never would Josie be obligated to uphold her family’s traditions. Hopefully, she had found some semblance of peace, wherever she was.

As she passed through the grand entry, Issy climbed the steps to the second floor, holding onto the handrail carefully. At the landing, she stopped. Suddenly, her pulse raced as vertigo sped through her and rendered her unstable. She took a deep breath and tried to slow her heartbeat.

One of the day maids hurried to her side. Milady! Are ye ill?

Issy nodded slowly. Occasionally, she still experienced dizzy spells stemming from her injuries obtained aboard the Enchanted Lady, especially while ascending the long staircases in the manor.

She swallowed hard. Could you help me to my room, Prudence? I fear I am still weak.

O’ course, milady. The young woman took Issy’s arm and supported her weight as they walked to her bedchambers in the West Wing of the manor. If you don’t mind me sayin’, milady, ye need to rest. Ye’ve been too active the last few weeks. You ain’t well.

Issy hummed. T’is merely a headache. I am fine. I am the future Duchess of Winchester. I have duties.

With a shake of her head, Prudence tsked. I’ll send for Mrs. Trent. Mayhap a tonic to help?

Nay! Issy wrinkled her nose. I refuse to drink that vile liquid any longer. Please, have her bring me a cup of tea to settle my nerves. Upon entering her bedroom suite, Prudence guided Issy toward her bed, but Issy waved her toward a door on the left. My dressing room. I’ll lie on the daybed for a brief nap.

Prudence pressed her lips together and sighed, ushering Issy into the dressing chamber attached to her sleeping quarters. An oversized tub filled with steaming water greeted her.

Issy smiled. A bath would be splendid.

Nay, milady. The water is too hot. Rest a bit and have your tea first.

Thank you, Prudence. Removing her slippers, Issy reclined upon the hand-carved, gold velvet chaise that sat near the window. As the chambermaid shut the door, Issy closed her eyes, reveling in the privacy.

Since her return, everyone at Oakhurst treated her like an invalid. It was taxing her energy. Now with the impending wedding plans, it would be worse.

And no Josie to help me through...

She thought of her sister off on a grand adventure and couldn’t help but worry. With inspiring courage, Josie had sacrificed her well-being and comfort to go with Will Creighton, although her motives weren’t as altruistic as she had led others to believe. Call it a sister’s intuition, but Issy knew Josie better than anyone. Josie had no qualms about giving up her noble status. She hated the pomp and circumstance of being a nobleman’s daughter. Not that Issy blamed her. What did Josie have to look forward to upon her return except a loveless marriage to an overaged widower with children to tend to?

But traversing the American wilderness with an American officer? Even though Josie was fond of the out of doors, surely even she would feel lost in the wilds of a strange country without her guidance.

Issy’s head pounded in time with her beating heart. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Unfortunately, there was no way to get a post to Josie except through Dayne and Lainey Neverwood. Even then, how could they forward a message to her if they hadn’t the slightest idea where she was?

What if she never returns?

A tear ran down Issy’s cheek. Josie, where in God’s name are you? 

PART I

Fall Adventures

Chapter 1

Lake Ponchartrain, just outside New Orleans

October 1814

Cripes, this is taking forever. Cornier! Did you find the supplies I asked for?

Glaring at the portly fur trader he’d hired, Captain Will Creighton stormed toward the river with his fists balled at his sides. Frustration bordering on anger sent his emotions swirling through him like a cyclone. Had it only been a week since he and his young ward had said farewell to Dayne Neverwood and Reece Carrow in New Orleans? It seemed longer. And everything that could go wrong, had.

Standing upon the banks of Lake Ponchartrain as if nothing were amiss, Captain Cornier pulled a pipe from his mouth and patted his pocket. "Oui, Monsieur, we have ’zee list from Madame Dumas. As you can see, my crew has already begun loading ’zee boat."

Will cursed beneath his breath. This entire assignment had been one nightmare after another. He and Lady Josephine had arrived early yesterday morning to rendezvous with Cornier and his crew. Initially, they had planned on traveling to the fort by carriage. But Ricardo Aringosa, the former mayor of New Orleans and Will’s contact in the city, had claimed it would be safer to find transport upon the river.

In hindsight, the Spaniard’s advice was sage. Will had no idea what condition the rustic roads of the American wilderness were in but getting to the fishing village had been a trial. Hoping to make better use of their time—and upon Lady Josephine’s insistence that she sat a mount better than most men—they had started their journey on horseback. However, the monsoon season hadn’t finished. The unending rain hadn’t ceased, and muck and swampy marshes covered the land.

Once they had arrived in this godforsaken fishing village, he had hired Cornier to take them up the river. They’d waited three days for the man and his ruthless band of trappers to assemble, only to have them lie idle for three more. Finally, after a lazy morning, the men had started to load the large keelboat.

But it was taking hours.

As if sensing Will’s irritation, Cornier clapped him on the shoulder. "Not to worry, Monsieur. Everything is on schedule."

Scowling at the rapscallion’s slight French accent, Will stalked toward the river. Cornier’s vernacular was almost as bad as his lackadaisical attitude. Mayhap as irritating as the headstrong woman he was escorting through the wilds of America.

Lady Josephine.

Darker shadows enveloped his mood as he kicked a stone into the murky water. It had only been a sennight and he had tired of her company already. How in hades had such a well-bred woman gotten away with talking like a magpie? Her nasally snort and lilting laugh prickled his skin from scalp to shins, and her know-it-all insolence grated upon his nerves.

He scoffed. "It must be hereditary." Her sister, Lady Isabelle, had been condescending and arrogant as well—until her accident aboard the Enchanted Lady. While the storm they’d encountered had left the woman with a gash upon her head and unconscious for a spell, it hadn’t stopped the noise. Lady Josephine had taken up her sister’s stead, spouting off nonsense every chance she could.

Pacing the shoreline, he rubbed his aching temples. Since he had boarded The Carrington six months past, his view of this mission had tarnished. It should be so simple, aye? Take control of an English ship and escort the Ladies Winchester to his commanding officer, Colonel Sandstone, at Fort McHenry.

Easier said than done.

Will hadn’t anticipated that his partner, Dayne Neverwood, would grow a conscience. Nor had he expected the horrendous storm that had nearly capsized the Enchanted Lady, the merchant ship he and Neverwood had hijacked. Their assignment had been to land in Baltimore, but with damaged sails, they’d spent four days adrift—floating in the wrong direction. Due to the extensive damage to the Lady, they had had no choice but to change course.

Unfortunately, skirting the Caribbean islands hadn’t been as safe as they’d anticipated. They had barely survived an attack by a British naval fleet before landing in New Orleans by sheer luck.

And now look where we are.

Will kicked a dead tree stump in front of him. Nay, there was nothing easy about this assignment. Not that he’d wanted it to begin with. Sandstone had ordered him to Neverwood’s side to ensure the man followed through with the General’s orders.

Hellbent on dying with honor after an Indian attack left him maimed and without a leg, Neverwood had been the perfect choice to sacrifice himself for the good of his country. All Will had to do was keep him in line until they moored. The man was supposed to have taken a bullet for the cause while Will transported the noblewomen to the Colonel, finishing this mission once and for all.

As Sandstone’s elite officers, he and Neverwood had overcome many obstacles over the years, had fought many battles all for the good of their country. They were trained to do what other soldiers couldn’t. This mission should have been no different, and it was supposed to have lessened this war by months.

But they should have finished by now. Here he was, stuck in a fishing village with a snotty English debutante because he hadn’t learned to say no. 

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Will sighed. Blasted Neverwood. This is his fault.

At the start of this mission, he never would have believed Neverwood would abandon his duties. Much like Will, his sense of loyalty to his country wouldn’t allow it. But Captain Reece Carrow, the owner of the Enchanted Lady, had gotten into Neverwood’s head. He’d convinced the man that self-destruction wasn’t heroic, and neither was taking the two noblewomen against their will.

Although Neverwood had been a lost cause by then. Love, it seemed, reigned over honor, and Lainey Walsh had stolen his heart. Tired of playing Sandstone’s game, Dayne had ordered Will to notify their commanding officers of his so-called death during the squall. But Neverwood was very much alive. He and Lainey had wed not a month past.

Raking a hand through his hair, Will blew out a breath. "Damnation, t’is my fault. I went along with his dadburned plan."

For reasons Will couldn’t comprehend, he owed Dayne Neverwood his loyalty. The man had once been a dedicated soldier, his moral compass much in alignment with Will’s. While they had crossed paths in the past, this mission had bonded them. And Will agreed with the man, for the most part. Sandstone had thrust this mission upon them without any rhyme or reason. While Will was loyal to a fault, he was also skeptical that their actions were honorable.

Without hesitation, he had informed the Colonel that Dayne Neverwood had died at sea. He reported that he had the noblewomen in his custody and agreed to return the sisters to Fort Bellefontaine near the St. Louis trading post. In actuality, he and Dayne had formulated a different plan. Both men understood the atrocities their commanding officer was capable of, so to keep the women safe, they divided and conquered. As it were, Lady Isabelle, too weak to travel to Bellefontaine, needed medical attention. So Carrow sailed Lady Isabelle to Guadeloupe, a British territory. As a gesture of faith, Lady Josephine had agreed to accompany Will to Fort Bellefontaine.

What I won’t do for my country...

Will grumbled a curse under his breath. His sense of honor notwithstanding, he couldn’t have dismissed this assignment as foolheartedly as Neverwood had, even if he’d wanted to. Through manipulation or downright coercion, Colonel Sandstone was a man who could convince the devil that heaven awaited him. And right now, he had the upper hand. He held Will’s sister Felicity and his mother at Fort Bellefontaine, and upon finishing this assignment, Sandstone promised to release them. Much as Will agreed with Carrow and Neverwood, his loyalty to his family outweighed all else. He could think of nothing but saving his sister.

Then why did it feel like he was marching toward death?

Picking up a rock, he hurled it across the river with a growl. "Because her Highness is a royal menace." Interesting that he was the one escorting Lady Josephine to her intended destiny. From the moment he’d met her, he had made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with her. It had taken all his dignity to place his feelings for the British debutante aside and yield to Neverwood’s plan.

Aboard the Enchanted Lady, she had been a pain in the hindquarters, talking incessantly and dogging his footsteps like a smitten child. The last thing he’d wanted to do was to drag her through the American wilderness.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he released a deep breath. Due to the unforeseen circumstances of their journey, their plans might have changed. But his motives hadn’t. The fact remained that his mother’s and sister’s safety depended upon delivering Lady Josephine to Sandstone, no matter how treacherous an adventure it was. But battling her childish antics for weeks—nay, months? He wasn’t sure how much more he could take lest he committed himself to an institution.

For Felicity, I will see this through, even if it kills me. On a durned keelboat, no less.

After helping the three men heft supplies to the flat deck of the vessel, Will returned to Cornier’s side. The sooner they got upon the river, the better. Will we be ready to sail this afternoon, Captain?

Cornier laughed boisterously. "Non, Monsieur. We are not all here. We are waiting on ’zee rest of my crew."

Will frowned. Cripes, how many people are traveling with us?

Not including ’zee woman, there will be seven, plus you and Anton. Cornier’s young son was, a half-breed, sat on the rail and watched the action with rapt attention. Issuing Will a huge grin, the child waved.

Wrinkling his nose, Will ignored the lad and scanned the keelboat from bow to stern. Just how is this vessel supposed to accommodate such a load? No longer than forty feet, the ship had a flat deck with a small cabin not nearly big enough to hold so many. Where would they all sleep?

No way in hell am I quartering with the English tart.

Cornier wiggled his bushy eyebrows. "Have faith, Monsieur. We do ’zis all the time. It will take many men to guide my girl upriver. You want to reach ’zee fort in one piece, oui?"

Aye, but you understand the woman traveling with us can be difficult.

With a huff, Cornier held up his palm. "Do not worry, mon ami. Mademoiselle will occupy ’zee cabin, and we men will sleep under ’zee stars. I have had ’zee fairer sex aboard during trips."

Will scoffed. Not like this one, I’d wager. She’s a fancy lady, from England don’t you know?

With a shrug, the man stroked his long, graying beard. "C’est vrai? ’Zen she will learn to be strong."

Will barked a dry laugh. I’ll believe that when I see it.

Cornier’s hairy belly peeked out from the deerskin shirt riding up from his breeches as he draped an arm across Will’s shoulder. "I am anxious to meet your young ward, Monsieur. Is she truly the she-devil you make her out to be?"

Will pursed his lips. You have no idea.

"We shall see, non? He patted Will on the back. We will have ’zee supplies loaded soon, and my crew will arrive before sunset. We will push off with the morning light. You will inform your she-devil, oui?" Whistling a jaunty tune, the man strolled away.

His frustration churning like a sandstorm, Will strapped his rifle to his back and stomped through the marshy grass toward the nearby outpost. Apparently, there was no badgering the French trader. The man had one speed—slow and steady.

Scanning the perimeter, Will searched for his charge, his thoughts of her refusing to desist. He was dreading this trip, but at least aboard the trapper’s vessel he could take to the outer decks to escape her constant blathering. Her British accent was worse than Cornier’s crude French.

He fisted the stock of his rifle as his feet pounded the ground. I just need to get her to Sandstone, rescue my mother and sister, and have done with this.

At the village docks, he passed the Creole fishermen loading their small boats for a day’s work upon the river. As their unique vernacular broke the ambient noise of the bayou, Will scowled.

According to Aringosa, many of the families that had settled in the swamps were Acadians from the Canadian provinces that spoke a broken French dialect. Comprehending the river people’s vernacular had proven difficult since Will didn’t speak a lick of it. The little English they did speak wasn’t intelligible.

To him, at least.

Apparently, Lady Josephine spoke fluent French and enjoyed conversing with the indigenous folk. Unfortunately, her Parisian accent was worse than her native intonation, nettling beneath his skin like an army of fire ants.

How can I last another month with the blasted woman?

Maybe she’ll get eaten by alligators.

He chuckled. I should be so lucky.

He strode past the villagers’ homes, several crude huts placed high on stilts to survive the frequent flooding of the lake. Traversing the waterlogged boardwalk, he headed for the largest shanty—the inn where Lady Josephine had quartered for the night. He had preferred to sleep in a quiet, makeshift lean-to along the banks of the river—free from the noblewoman’s chatter. Unfortunately, Cornier’s promise of a chilly evening had been the bane of a good night’s sleep.

"Monsieur! Zut, ’ze Mam’zelle go." 

The petite landlady accosted him as he opened the hewn log door. Squinting, Will tugged on his earlobe, listening closely to every word. Lady Josephine left? Where?

Hawse. The woman pointed toward the small stable in the distance.

Grimacing, Will raked a hand across the back of his neck. "She went riding?" Wringing her hands in her apron, the woman shrugged.

Anger took hold of Will, the root sprouting into rage. Christ, that girl will be the death of me.

Turning on his heels, he exited, slamming the door behind him. He marched to the stables. He’d told her the wilderness was full of dangerous creatures. Was it so difficult to follow orders?

The small boy in charge of the livery smiled and waved. "Bonjour, M’sieu!"

I need a horse. Will demanded. "The Mademoiselle—where’d she go?"

The boy pointed at the nearby beasts. "Hawse, M’sieu?"

Will threw his hands up, exasperated with the lack of communication. Damnation, yes! Just give me the animal.

Scratching his chin, the child cocked his head, his little brow furrowed. Will pointed at the saddle, then the animal, and the boy grinned. With the strength of ten lads, he readied the stallion that Will had ridden to the village.

As he straddled his horse, the boy handed him the reins. "Au’voir, M’sieu."

Ignoring the desire to snap a retort that would merely be a waste of breath, Will gently kicked his horse’s flanks with his heels and trotted into the soft, marshy lands that bordered Lake Pontchartrain. As he rode, he cursed Colonel Sandstone, Dayne Neverwood, Reece Carrow, Captain Cornier, and Lady Josephine most of all.

It would take them at least another month to reach Bellefontaine—hopefully with his sanity intact. He needed to find the woman and escort her to Sandstone before she got herself into trouble.

WHOA, NANETTE.

Dismounting her white mare, Lady Josephine gazed around the small inlet pond and smiled. After a fair night’s sleep in the ramshackle inn, she’d awoken refreshed. After battling the elements—not to mention enduring her barbarous guide—she needed a day to herself. As she’d broken her fast, the warmth of the sun and the late-summer breeze had called to her.

Inhaling a cleansing breath, she took in the sultry southern heat she’d come to adore. Tying Nanette to a protruding root of a cypress tree, she reached into the saddle bag and fetched a few carrots. She giggled as her companion greedily accepted the snack.

Nuzzling