The Professor and the Smuggler Read online

  Phillip’s body moved by inches across the deck as Carne pounded him. His knees were sore, his rear more so. But he thrust back every time, wanting more of that powerful, deep penetration.

  In very short order, Carne reached his peak. He dug his fingers hard into Phillip’s hips and, with one final push, gave a guttural roar. Phillip felt the strength of that release as if it were his own, that complete surrender to ecstasy as Carne shuddered against him.

  The pirate had assumed command of his frigate, and Phillip was entirely content to raise a white flag and invite him on board. He would gladly entertain this smuggler for as long as he chose to stay. Feed him biscuits and tea and woo him with a siren song.

  Carne rolled off and stretched beside him, an arm flung above his head. “I suppose we should be heading back.”

  “I suppose we must,” Phillip replied.

  Captain and captive had been a pleasant momentary fantasy, but unfortunately, their time in the hidden cove couldn’t last forever. The sun had moved past high noon, and Phillip had an appointment to keep.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The wind scoured Carne’s face. Clouds rolled in as he brought the Magpie into the harbor and tied her off at the dock.

  “I’m glad we missed the bad weather,” Phillip called. “I never would have recuperated if we’d met those waves.” He pointed at the whitecaps.

  “You recovered quickly enough,” Carne said.

  Phillip gave him a sly grin. “I had the best of distractions.”

  Instead of growing embarrassed or wishing to hurry off, Carne returned the smile, almost entirely at ease. Carne hadn’t been out on the water for days and hadn’t known how much he’d missed it. The ocean gave him peace.

  Fine, he’d best be honest with himself: the experience in the cove was responsible for that elusive sense of body and soul-deep well-being—and gratitude for being alive here and with Phillip. He’d rarely known a time when he’d understood he was fully in the right place and time. He’d been content in his world, but less certain what happiness meant.

  Still, he mustn’t get lost in contemplation of bliss. As they walked through the little village, he had to pay attention, to watch the people he passed for signs of guilt. Someone he knew and perhaps even liked had done that to Phillip’s motorcar. He couldn’t simply assume it was Jacobs or the Mitchells or Gwalather and leave it at that. He should remain vigilant for anyone else acting suspicious.

  Yet that strange happiness remained in the background, ready to swamp Carne with joy again.

  The wind increased and a drizzle sputtered, threatening to turn into true rain.

  “Shall we go to the Stoney Ground now?” he asked Phillip.

  “No. I have to go to your cottage first.” He walked with that long stride of his. Carne watched him, wondering if his backside ached. He did grimace.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I just realized the rain is going to erase those hoofprints. Ah well.”

  “Are you going to tell me who you’re meeting? Or do I have to trail after?”

  “Didn’t you say that Bea doesn’t want you to go there?”

  “That’s handy, isn’t it?” Carne’s dismay melted when he recalled Phillip had made the arrangement without knowing Bea’s declaration. Carne would go anyway—nothing could stop him from following Phillip. But he wouldn’t count on Bea’s willingness to serve him food.

  In the cottage, he made them rough sandwiches of dried meat, cheese, and stale bread that tasted delicious. Food tasted better in Phillip’s presence.

  Phillip went into his room—entirely his, now. Carne wondered if it would ever feel as if it belonged to his sisters again.

  A few minutes later, he reappeared. He had an oilskin coat and hat in one hand and a leather satchel in the other. He slung the satchel over his shoulder, and they set out.

  The rain had died down, though, and they ducked under some dripping trees and made their way back toward the village. Carne pulled off his gray cap and shook the water off.

  Phillip broke the silence. “Mitchell the younger.”

  “Eh?”

  “I’m going to talk to Mitchell.”

  Carne resettled his cap and concentrated on the last few days’ activities. “Why? You haven’t met him before.”

  “I did. When you were with Mrs. Pollard. And we made a sort of arrangement.”

  “What’s that mean, sort of arrangement?” Carne stopped dead on the path.

  Phillip shrugged. “We discussed the village’s past, and he showed some interest in my research.”

  “Showed interest? Ha. He don’t talk to strangers. He’s…what’s that word? Taciturn.”

  “So says the pot. Or are you the kettle?” Phillip muttered.

  Carne ignored the comment. “Did he threaten you?”

  “No. Not really. No.”

  “You’re lying. What did he do? Cut your hand? Did the bastard do that?”

  “Calm down, if you please. I cut it on a rock, just as I told you. I admit he was suspicious of me, yes. But he did allow me to leave the cave.”

  “I knew it! You were messing about in the Mitchells’ cave. The moment my back was turned… Are you a small boy who thinks he’s immortal and can do anything and go anywhere without coming to harm? So it’s the Mitchells or senior’s friend, Jacobs who broke up your motorcar to warn you off.”

  “Very likely, but we still have no proof.” Phillip was far too calm, while Carne wanted to rip something or someone to pieces. And that bright smile on his face was almost too much to bear.

  Rain spattered them again, and Phillip pulled off his glasses to wipe them. “I’m going to be late,” he said, still too casual. “But if you’re planning to trail after me shouting like that, I’ll risk being late even if Mr. Mitchell gives up on me.”

  “’Twould be good if he left the inn and left you alone.”

  Phillip grinned. “And to think, I believed you and he were friends.”

  “Would you take this seriously?”

  Phillip put his glasses back on. “I do. But seeing you go on like an injured badger is rather… I think I rather like it.”

  “What? Are you mad?” The anger ripping through Carne seemed to have no place to go, and he knew he was a foolish to shout, but what was it about this frustrating idiot and his smile? Why would Phillip think this situation amusing?

  Phillip moved closer. “You’re worried about me. I had supposed that when I told you I was meeting Mitchell, you’d worry because I might leave here and reveal some secret or another—not that I have any. But I can tell you’re angry and upset because you think he’ll hurt me. You have no idea how that makes me want to embrace you, here in the open.”

  “Jesus.” Carne closed his eyes. “You’re the strangest lad.”

  “But you like me.”

  No point in denying that fact. Carne started walking again. The rain slowed now, and only a few sad bird cries and the crash of the waves could be heard.

  Phillip touched his arm. “I think I should like to speak to Mitchell alone.”

  Carne growled.

  Phillip laughed. “You sound like a dog, Carne. I promise, I’ll tell you the whole of it, what he wants, and what I have, but I’m convinced it’s probably best if I meet him alone. He might assume you’re up to your eyebrows in this.”

  “And so I am at that.”

  “He might think you and I are conspiring against him or some such nonsense. He seems the sort to believe in plots.”

  “You read him well in such a short time,” Carne admitted.

  Phillip’s smile shone but only for a moment. He sobered as he said, “I wouldn’t want you to have to pick a side in any disputes, should it come to that, between Mitchell and me.”

  Carne had had enough mystery. He put a hand on Phillip’s arm to stop him. “Five minutes—you won’t be late. Tell me now.”

  Phillip pulled his gold-and-silver watch from his waistcoat and clicked it open. “Five minutes,�
�� he agreed, and launched into his explanation with an ocean of words. “When I did my initial study of the area, I located maps and all sorts of records and reports about this part of Cornwall. The maps are detailed, beautiful things, filled with notations about the area.”

  “This is about a map? What does that mean?”

  “I found one that seemed to have been created by some local man.” He paused. “There was a name on it, smudged, but it started with Tre-something, so perhaps it was your great-great-grandfather Carne, or Mr. Trennick’s.”

  “And Mitchell wants to see it? Why would he need a map of the coast? He knows every inch of the place.”

  “Because the map was purportedly of a buried treasure,”

  “Bah.”

  “More accurate to say it was hidden. I believe free traders were discovered by the crown’s authorities, and they had enough advance warning they could hide most of the goods before they were arrested. It was during Napoleon’s era, so we must suppose some of it consisted of French products, brandy and such, but the notes that Tre-whatever-his-name-was had written included the word ‘gold.’”

  Carne felt a little sick. “Ah. Now I follow. You’re here to dig up this treasure. The book ’twas an excuse to hide behind.”

  “Not at all. The treasure adds to the mystery of this marvelous place. And I have no need for more possessions or money.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this damned map long ago? Why wait till Mitchell threatened you?”

  Phillip shoved long fingers through his hair, which was already a mess. Those fingers had touched Carne, and even the passing memory tightened his gut.

  “I wasn’t sure I would pursue such a course. I had rather thought I would leave the past where it belonged. The treasure has remained hidden for nearly one hundred years.” Phillip went on about disturbing history without a proper setup for such things, all the while sounding elegant, almost like a preacher or a poet, the way he did, but that only made the suspicion burn stronger in Carne.

  Could a man be so gormless as himself? He’d been gulled, like any rustic visiting a town on fair day, taken in by a gentlemanly air. What did he know about real gentlemen or professors? Of course Phillip needed money. His dingy clothes and utter lack of a proper haircut or hair oil should have told Carne this man’s air of wealth was a show, but he’d been so interested in Phillip’s exuberance and his camera, car, stories, and…other things. He was sorely, bitterly disappointed and angry at himself for his overabundant trust in a stranger.

  Phillip was still yapping, describing the papers he’d hauled along.

  “Oh aye, words in some strange script no one else could understand,” Carne snapped.

  “You don’t believe me, do you? That I don’t require the money?” Phillip studied his face. A moment later, he grabbed Carne’s hand and pulled him into the tall grass next to the path, heedless of the wet blades brushing over them. He put the leather satchel on the ground.

  “What are you doing?” Carne tried to pull away, but not very hard.

  “Watch.” Phillip took off his jacket and unbuttoned his waistcoat. Was he going to seduce Carne to distract him? Carne bitterly reflected that it might actually work.

  But then Phillip reached into his trousers pocket and pulled a short knife, the sort gentlemen carried to mend pencils. He unsheathed the knife and used it slice open the silk lining of his baggy waistcoat.

  Carne blinked. Phillip held stack of bank notes. “My travel money,” he said and held it out to Carne, who took the notes and stared down at them. There was at least one hundred and ten pounds, more money than Carne had ever seen. More than he made in a year, certainly.

  He pushed the money at Phillip. “Take it,” he said. “Christ, you’d best hide every last shilling.”

  “I do. I have a couple of different places.”

  “Do you mean you have more?”

  Phillip nodded. “I had even more money, but then I bought my motorcar and some equipment. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be traveling, and I hate fiddling around with banks in cities I don’t know. At home I don’t mind, of course, and I even rather enjoy researching investments.”

  Banks? Investments? He truly was from a different world. Carne remained struck dumb at the thought of that much money.

  “You believe me now? When I say I’m not here for the treasure?”

  Carne scratched his beard. “I suppose yes.”

  “Good. Then I’ll go to the meeting with Mitchell, and you’ll know I’m doing it to placate him by giving him a copy of the treasure map. Maybe together we can follow it to the trail’s end. If we actually find treasure, it might keep the people of Par Gwynear for years to come—or at least through the winter.” He added breezily, “All right, yes, I also hope to earn Junior’s trust and keep him from stabbing me or bashing me over the head.”

  “Don’t be so damned cocky. You should be worried about both the Mitchells. What if he brings his tas along to this meeting?”

  “I’m not cocky. It’s more that I’m—I’m satisfied. I believe you, and you believe me. That’s really what I care about. It matters to me what you think, Carne.”

  Carne wanted to disagree, but the relief he felt at discovering Phillip wasn’t some sort of confidence trickster still rushed through him. The suspicion had lasted only a couple of minutes at most, but had thoroughly upended him as if he’d been slammed and tumbled by a wave.

  They walked down the path toward the inn, and Phillip talked about the clever hiding places he’d engineered for his cash. He talked about a week earlier when he’d hidden money in his boot while he slogged around a swampy area. The ground sucked the boot right off his foot.

  “Luckily, it was only five pounds,” he said. “Though I did love that pair of boots. As soon as I’m in London again, I’m going to buy another pair.”

  Only five pounds? What a strange man. Carne laughed and shook his head. He gazed at Phillip with wonder.

  “Oy, Carne Treleaven, hope you don’t plan to enter my inn?” It was Bea. She stood in her kitchen garden at the back of the inn, watching them. She had her fists on her hips. At her feet lay a basket. “I thought we agreed you’d stay away for a year or so,” she exaggerated.

  Phillip looked at her with wide eyes. “Oh. My…” He began. “I’m so sorry, I asked him to accompany me, Mrs. Pollard. I have an appointment here.”

  She still looked furious but managed a smile. “Naw, go on then, Professor Singleton. I’ll have a word with this one.”

  Phillip looked back and forth between them. “You won’t hurt Mr. Treleaven, will you?”

  Her tense expression eased into a grin. “Don’t you know it’s traditional to worry about the lady’s well-being when two people get into a fight? He has at least three stone on me. I won’t hurt him. Go inside.”

  After one last worried look at Bea, Phillip walked down the path and disappeared into the inn.

  Carne held up his hands. “Sorry, Bea. But he set up a meeting with Mitchell.”

  “Aye, I know. Mitchell’s twitchy as a flea. That teasy lout’s not a man your friend should cross. I think I know now…” She shook her head and aimed a frown at him. She looked so unusually solemn, he wondered if she knew something he didn’t.

  “Something about Mitchell? He say anythin’ about what he’s been up to, maybe about doing something to the professor’s motorcar? Do you think he’d hurt him?” He started to follow Phillip.

  “Calm yerself, Treleaven, ’tis naught to do with Mitchell. I saw you just now, the pair of you walking down the road. And, ah my, the look on your face. I never seen you so bright and happy.”

  “Professor Singleton told a funny story.”

  “Oh, don’t bother to lie to me. You’re a silent, closed-up man much of the time. And when you look at him, you’re as open as the ocean.” She shook her head. “I was courted by a man like you, but he was more easily spotted. He had mannerisms and so forth.”

  “A man like what?” he asked w
ith dread.

  “A man who prefers men, of course. Don’t deny it. I may not be well traveled, but I’ve served the folk of this village for most of my life and picked up a thing or two about people. And you never, not once in all the time we had fun together, looked at me with such a smile.”

  He wanted to protest and explain, but Bea was a stubborn one. There was no point in trying to convince her otherwise. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

  She gave a great snort of disgust. “It has nothing to do with me, and you know it.” She picked up the basket loaded with herb cuttings and began to walk toward the inn. “In fact, it makes me feel a trifle better knowing it isn’t some girl you’re after.”

  This was too much. “I’m not after anyone. Bea, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She whirled on him and shook a finger in his face. He caught the scent of mint and Bea.

  In a low voice, she said, “You know I don’t gossip. I’d be a fool if I gossiped in a closed-up place like this one. You’re an honest sort, usually, so don’t start lying to me now, Carne.”

  He decided to stop protesting, even if she didn’t know what she was talking about. Because…perhaps she did know what she was talking about.

  They stopped outside the inn. She opened the door. “Well, come on,” she snapped. “You’d best keep your charming friend safe from Mitchell.”

  “You’d rather I didn’t come in. I’ll respect that.”

  “You’re right. I wish you’d stay away. But there are plenty of things I would rather have that I don’t get. A thousand pounds. A whole army of maids to clean the place for me. Come on, you fool.”

  Carne shook his head. “Thank you, Bea, but Mr. Singleton wants to handle this meeting on his own. Anyway, it’s not as if the young hothead will attack him in the middle of a crowded tavern. I’ll wait out here to meet up with the professor after he’s finished his business.”

  His former lover shrugged and disappeared inside, leaving him in turmoil over what she’d guessed about him. He didn’t want it to be true. He didn’t want to have feelings for Singleton. But he couldn’t refuse to admit to them any more than he could refuse to acknowledge a large boulder in his path. Whether he wanted it to be there or not, there it remained, and if he kept moving forward, he’d smack right into it.