Read His Wicked Kiss for Free Online

into the sturdy riverboat, an odd-looking hybrid of steam and sail, but serviceable.
    Don Eduardo sauntered to the edge of the dock as Jack’s men tugged the ropes free from their mooring posts. He sent them a final salute as Jack gave the order to set sail.
    When his men poled the craft away from the docks and out into the middle of the river’s slow but powerful current, Jack set his gaze straight ahead, not sparing one look back at the woman he had ravished so thoroughly last night.
    Such was a sailor’s fate. The trick, of course, was never to stay in one place long enough to get attached. And that was just the way that Jack preferred it.
    He spent the first hour of their journey keeping an eye on the local pilot he had hired to navigate them down the unfamiliar river. He knew enough about the sea to realize that a wise man treated a great river like the Orinoco with extreme respect. He always preferred local guides in his travels, and as the swarthy mestizo captain of the riverboat got them off to a smooth start, Jack went to check on the lumber, and got a splinter for his pains. Finally, with their downriver voyage well underway, he decided that he could relax for a while.
    With Trahern leaning nearby, gazing at the wide, sun drenched river ahead, Jack settled in for the day-long ride with a copy of Angostura’s first official newspaper, recently established by Bolivar. Reclining in a battered wooden chair inside the cramped pilothouse, he put his feet up, crossed his booted heels, and chewed on an unlit cheroot.
    “I still don’t see why you didn’t insist that they pay you silver,” Trahern said to him at length in English, which their pilot did not understand. “You could sell it on the currency market in China , and your profit is fifty percent.”
    “Chris, relax. We’re already running a perfectly adequate silver trade out of Buenos Aires .” It was smuggled silver, of course, but why split hairs? The English Crown turned a blind eye to the flourishing business of British smugglers in South America ; after all, John Bull was painfully light in the pockets these days. “You have to be patient if you want to get rich,” he advised, turning the page of the newspaper before abruptly tossing it aside. “Utter tripe. Liberty this, liberty that. Naught but the usual propaganda.”
    “But you love propaganda, Jack,” Trahern said in amusement.
    “Only when I’m the one using it. Bloody God, it’s hot. Open that window wider.”
    Trahern obeyed. “Look!” He pointed to a group of colorful riders storming across the flat golden plains. “A band of
llaneros
.”
    “T hank God Bolivar finally got them on his side, at least.”
    “Something like a cavalry,” Trahern agreed with a shrug.
    “At least they know how to fight,” Jack murmured. “They won’t run. And they know the territory.” He watched the rugged cattlemen of the plains driving their herds to fresh grazing.
    After the impressive cavalcade had passed, he leaned back thoughtfully in his chair. “Think I’ll catch a bit of sleep for now. That girl wore me out.”
    Trahern laughed. “Poor fellow.”
    Jack grinned and tugged the brim of his straw hat down lower over his eyes; folding his arms across his chest, he stretched his long legs out before him and dozed. He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night—not that he was complaining—but he knew he’d need to be sharp when it came time to slip past the Spanish at the coast and rendezvous with his ship.
The Winds of Fortune
was hiding now in a cove near Icacos Point, a rocky peninsula that jutted southward off the
island
of
Trinidad
in the straits known as the Serpent’s Mouth.
    He’d left his third-in-command, Lieutenant Peabody, in charge of the vessel, with Brody, the stalwart master-at-arms, to lend a bit of added steel to his orders. Nevertheless, being parted from his beloved vessel with the Spanish flotilla so nearby made him a tad nervous.
    As soon as the
Winds
picked up