“Dry land. Thank God!” He laughed, and to Georgie’s complete astonishment, he dropped his head back and let out a shout of pure elation, like a lunatic, a wild “Wahooo!” of victory. An answering smile curved her mouth as a ball of joy and relief filled her chest.

He turned to her, breathing hard. “We did it, Georgie girl!”

Water streamed down his face in rivulets, and his shirt clung to him, almost transparent in the moonlight. With a grin of triumph, he lifted her up on tiptoe against him, hard against his chest. His kiss was savage, joyous, and Georgie responded in kind. Her legs went weak, and she clung to him like a barnacle as their tongues tangled and danced. A wild, exultant fever warmed her blood, and her head started to spin.

Benedict drew back, panting, his eyes glittering in the darkness, and Georgie opened her mouth to tell him exactly how she felt about him. “Benedict, I—”

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted her admission of love.

“Wylde! You’ve brought me my submarine. Good man!”

Admiral Sir George Cockburn strode along the shadowed wharf. Benedict saluted the older man, and when he lowered his arm, the admiral caught his hand and shook it enthusiastically. He turned to Georgie and did the same to her. “And with the help of this young fellow. Well done lad, you’ve done a fine job here tonight. You have the Admiralty’s deepest thanks.”

Georgie had lost her cap somewhere along the way, but her hair was still tied back in a low sailor’s pigtail. She kept her head down, praying that the admiral wouldn’t recognize her.

Benedict indicated the sinking vessel. “You may need to drain it out.”

The admiral shrugged. “A bilge pump will sort that. What matters is that we’ve stopped that blackguard Johnstone from carrying out his dastardly plan. Exceptional work, fellows. Invaluable service. Rest assured, I shall be recommending both of you to His Royal Highness for a reward.” He turned to Georgie. “What’s your name, lad?”

Georgie groaned inwardly and tried to pitch her voice an octave lower than normal. “Um, George?”

Her wobbly baritone didn’t fool the admiral for a moment. He gasped at Benedict in shock. “Is that a girl?”

Since further subterfuge was impossible, Benedict stepped forward and made the introductions. “It is indeed. Admiral Cockburn, may I present Miss Georgiana Caversteed, owner of Caversteed Shipping.”

Curtseying would have been ridiculous, given her attire, so Georgie straightened, met the admiral’s eye, and inclined her head in greeting.

“Good Lord. Well, I never,” the admiral blustered. “What is the meaning of this?”

Benedict was unfazed. “I asked Miss Caversteed to accompany me. She has an exceptional grasp of all things maritime, as I believe tonight’s success has demonstrated. I had complete faith she could accomplish the mission.”

Her heart swelled with pride at his praise.