She nodded and rubbed at her arms.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
She stilled. “A little.”
He moved closer. “Are you nervous?” Apprehension niggled in his gut. “If I am asking too much of you—”
“Of course not,” she said.
He smiled at the insulted tone. “Of course not,” he repeated.
She huffed, her gaze flickering past him. “Where did your friend go off to?”
Marcus rocked back on his heels, resisting the urge to move closer. To draw her into his arms. Just to keep her warm, of course.
“Caleb?” He glanced over his shoulder, but his old friend was long gone. “He’s off to gather my men and my ship.”
“So you can leave as soon as you catch your smuggler,” she finished.
He dipped his head, his gaze never leaving hers. Was it wrong that he hoped to see some show of emotion in those dazzling dark eyes? Was it odd that his chest was beginning to ache already at the thought of leaving her behind when all this was said and done?
No, it wasn’t just odd. It was insanity. He’d never been sad to leave shore before. Never once felt this pull to stay...anywhere. Not even on those rare trips to London when he saw his family.
And yet, here he was, longing for someone who was standing no more than a foot away from him.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.
He grinned. “Are you always this suspicious of every stranger you meet?”
Her lips twitched upward. “Only the ones I believe to be pirates.”
“Ah,” he said with a nod. “Fair enough.”
Mischief flickered in her eyes, dazzling to watch. “Also, the ones whose names I believe to be fake.”
He nodded. She had him there.
A flicker of triumph flashed through her eyes when he did not attempt to contradict her. “And the ones who are afraid of being recognized,” she continued slowly, testing him. “Or the ones—”
“Yes, I see your point,” he interrupted, laughter tingeing his voice. He ought to be terrified. This woman was too clever by far.
“Why are you afraid, Mr. Haversaw?” she asked.
He flinched a bit hearing that fictitious name coming from her lips. “It’s Marcus,” he said.
Her eyes widened and he suspected she knew—or, at least, she guessed—that he was not just giving her permission to use his given name, but that he was trusting her with it—with his real name. A name he rarely shared with anyone, not even his most trusted men.
Truth be told, he was still shaken by the admission when she asked again. “What are you afraid of, Marcus? Are you wanted for some crime?”
He winced. “In a roundabout sort of way.”
He wasn’t certain faking one’s death counted as a crime but enabling his bastard brother to claim the earldom would certainly be frowned upon. And then there were the years when he’d acted on his own to seek justice, a rogue pirate until his brother had made him somewhat legitimate with his letter of marque.
Minerva tilted her head to the side and openly studied him. “I cannot believe you are a cruel man.”
He arched a brow. “And you think cruel men are the only ones capable of misbehaving?”
He was rewarded with a small smile that made her eyes glow. “Of course not. I assume it’s selfishness or greed that drives most men—and women, for that matter—to conduct misdeeds.”
“Conduct misdeeds,” he repeated slowly, feeling out the words. “That sounds so very proper.”
“You’re teasing again.” But this time she smiled as she said it.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to that. You seem to bring it out in me.” He reached out and touched one of the curls that had escaped. “You are eminently teasable.”
He expected her to swat his hand away, but she didn’t. She surprised him with a laugh instead. “You are an odd man, do you know that?”
He shrugged. “So I’ve been told.”
Her brows drew together and for a moment she looked adorably perplexed. “So, which is it then?”
He arched his brows in a silent question.
“Are you greedy or selfish?”
He laughed. “You are a very direct lady, do you know that?”
She mimicked his shrug. “So I’ve been told.” Her eyes seemed to light with some inner fire when she laughed, and those flames flickered hypnotically with mischief and curiosity.
The sight was mesmerizing.
Beautiful.
He reached a hand out and cupped her chin gently. “That look right there. That is why no other lady could hold a candle to you.”
Her eyes widened in surprise before she blinked the expression away. “You’re avoiding the question.”
He dropped his hand with a laugh. “So I am. Let’s see. Am I motivated by greed or selfishness? I only keep a small percentage of the loot I intercept or commandeer so that rules out greed, eh?” He grinned. “I suppose that makes me selfish.”
She laughed. “You sound far too proud when you admit that.”
“Should I be ashamed that I’ve unabashedly chased my dreams for a decade?” He still grinned, but he gave it thought. “You know, I’ve only recently realized just how much of an affect my actions can have on those around me. So in that sense, yes, I do feel ashamed at my selfishness. Although, I’ve never forced anyone into helping me.”
He hadn’t, he reminded himself. His brother had taken it upon himself to help Marcus when he’d first set off to help free enslaved peoples and deal out his particular brand of justice. Even his brother’s wife had made her choice to help as well.
Minerva bit her lip and leaned forward slightly as though hanging on his words. “But?”
“But...” He ran a hand through his hair in agitation. It was not every day that a lady forced him to stop and think about his life decisions.
It had certainly never happened in a cave while he was trying to cajole that same lady into helping him catch a smuggler.
The thought brought with it a wry smile and he forced himself to answer her as truthfully as he could, for he suspected it was her own mind she was trying to sort out. “I suppose times have changed,” he said. “Those I care about have made life choices that have taken them down a different path, and now it is time for me to make changes as well.”
She tipped her head to the side. “What sort of changes?”
He smiled in response. “Suppose I were to tell you that this was my last mission as a...privateer?” The word did not come easily, he still wasn’t quite used to it, but Minerva merely nodded.
“Is that true?”
“It is.”
“So when you sail off in your ship, where will you head?”
Something seemed to click inside of him. Or perhaps something fell into place. Over the past year since his last injury had forced him to face his own mortality and the next phase of his life, he’d done little but think about what to do next. He had ideas, but nothing had called out to him...
Until now.
Until her.
For the first time in years, he felt it. The call. The siren song of a new desire, a new adventure.
A new beginning.
Did it make sense? No.
Was it reasonable? Definitely not.
But he’d learned long ago that opportunities like these were few and far between. And once missed, they never returned. Fate was fickle and fleeting, and all too often one was called upon to leap without looking.
Her brows hitched higher. “Well, Marcus?” she asked. Her voice was breathless, and he wondered if she could feel it, too. This precipice on which they stood, the opportunity that lay before them begging to be grasped.
She shifted closer. “Well?” she asked. “What grand adventure awaits you next?” Her lips were parted, her eyes dazed. Had she any idea herself just how much she craved adventure? Did she have any inkling that his greatest wish was to give it to her?
He would show her the world if she would let him, and she...
Well, he suspected she could be the one thing he hadn’t known he’d ever wanted.
A home.
“What adventure comes next?” he repeated. He reached for her and tugged her close, loving the way that she leaned into him without fear or hesitation.
“That, my dear, depends entirely upon you.”
Chapter 8
This was insanity.
Minerva held her breath as she watched Marcus’s eyes darken as he leaned closer.
This was lunacy.
His strong arms wrapped around her, his upper body stable and comforting as he tilted his head down slowly as if to give her every chance to protest.
She did not protest.
How could she? Her mind went blank as sensations and emotions took over, drowning out any hope of reason.
This is happening. That was all she could think.
Her lips parted as he moved slowly, so very slowly. Closing the distance between them, his gaze held hers hostage until the very last moment when his lips closed over hers.
Warmth flooded through her at the contact and her heart went wild in her chest like it was celebrating.
She clung to his shoulders, his arms, her fingers trying to find purchase as she pressed against him even closer, his body giving off a heat she hadn’t known she’d been missing.
Her whole life she’d been seeking this warmth, this comfort, this feeling of being exactly where she was meant to be.
It was dizzying. His kiss. This odd certainty. The way her body seemed to mold itself so naturally to his. The delicious heat that coursed through her as his arms tightened and his throat seemed to rumble with pleasure.
For all his muscles and his strength, his kiss was surprisingly gentle.
Not that she had anything to compare it to. But while his lips were firm and warm, his touch was light as he glided his mouth over hers, tasting and teasing. Exploring as if they had all the time in the world.
Which they didn’t.
Reality came back in a blinding flash of disappointment and she pushed away suddenly. “What—?” She stumbled back a step and felt a sharp empty ache when he let her go. Her hand flew to her lips, which still tingled from the heat of his kiss. “What was that?”
He was eyeing her oddly. Warily. Like she was some fragile creature that was going to run away.
She straightened to her full height. As if she would run. She had not fled in the face of a pirate, she certainly would not run from a kiss.
Not just a kiss. Her first kiss. The only kiss that would ever matter.
She shushed that voice and shut it down. Silly romanticism. That was something one of Hattie’s fictional heroines would say, not her.
She spun around so his prying eyes could not see her confusion or her cheeks, which were no doubt flushed. “What was that?” she demanded.
She didn’t hear him approach and so she jumped when his hands fell upon her arms, his grip gentle and steadying. “I’m sorry if I took liberties,” he said. “I was hoping you felt it, too.”
I did. I do. She swallowed. “Felt what?”
His hands roamed over her arms, her shoulders, as if he could take in every inch of her with his soft caress. “This connection. A sense of belonging. Rightness.” He gave a rueful huff. “Words have never been my strong suit, I’m afraid. And right now they are failing me mightily.”
She spun around to face him. “I don’t know what kind of lady you think I am, but—”
“No, I didn’t think you were—” He cut her off with a quick protest and for that she was grateful because her words were failing her too. “That is, I did not mean to disrespect you.”
What kind of lady did he think she was? The better question was, what kind of lady was she? Her heart continued to pound furiously as that question raced through her brain.
What kind of woman kissed a stranger like that? What kind of woman snuck off to meet a man she hardly knew and shouldn’t trust?
Her gaze shot up to meet his, and she froze. She did trust him. Whether it made sense or not, she was not afraid of him and some part of her trusted him, even though she could not explain why.
That had her more concerned about her welfare than any pirate ever could.
Impulsive. Passionate. Reckless. Following her heart’s desire.
Weren’t these all the words and phrases their father used to describe their mother? Wasn’t that everything she’d sworn she’d never be?
She scrambled back a step, despising the concern in his eyes as he stepped toward her. “I did not mean to take advantage—”
“You didn’t.”
He reached for her and she backpedaled too fast, tripping over her own boots. He stopped, his brows drawn down and his eyes filled with such warmth she could feel it to her very core. “What I meant to say earlier—what I ought to have said—was that I wish for my next adventure to include you. I want you to be my next grand adventure.”
“W-what?” She wasn’t even certain how she’d managed to get that one word out.
His small smile was filled with self-derision. “I realize I’m going about this all wrong, but in my defense, I’ve never once attempted to court a lady.” He eyed her for a long moment. “Also, I suppose I thought that if I were ever to try, I would have more than twenty-four hours in which to do so.”
She blinked once. Twice. Then she opened her mouth to take a deep steadying breath. “Are you teasing again?”
He shook his head with a smirk. “For once, I am not.”
Courting. The word felt far too simple and innocent for whatever it was that had transpired between them. This was not courting. Roger was the man who was supposed to court her, and when he did it would be utterly proper. Her father’s approval would be ascertained, they would take chaperoned walks and dance together at her sisters’ balls, and then, when the time was right, he would ask for her hand.
She knew for certain how her courtship would go, and it looked nothing like this. Roger’s courtship would be proper and predictable and—
Boring.
She shook her head as if that might clear it.
“You want to...” She cleared her throat because the words felt ludicrous to think, let alone speak. “You wish to court me?”
“That’s correct.”
“But you still must leave as soon as this culprit has been apprehended,” she said.
“Also correct,” he said with a wince of regret.
“And you think that I might...” She swallowed. “You believe that I might wish to—”
“Come with me.”
She was at a loss to say whether he was finishing her statement or asking her outright.
“Come with me,” he said again. This time it was definitely a plea. “I know that it sounds crazy.” He tilted his head one way and then the other. “Perhaps it is crazy. But I’ve never been known for being sensible, and my instincts have never led me astray.”
Her eyes were so wide they were beginning to hurt, her mind racing too quickly to hold onto a single thought.
She did not know which was crazier. That he was asking...or that she was tempted to say yes.
She ought to say no. She opened her mouth to say no. What came out was, “Come with you where?”
He smiled. It was that rakish lopsided grin that made her world feel like it was tilting, like she was falling. “Wherever you wish.”
For a moment the world didn’t just spin around, it opened up. Like some sort of magic, his words seemed to speak directly to her heart and her head grew cloudy with visions of travel and adventure and romance and—
No. She blinked as the voice of reason brought her back to the ground with an unpleasant jolt. That was not her future.
She closed her eyes and ignored the longing, drowned out the temptation, and refused to look at the man who seemed to embody them both. “I cannot leave my sisters. My family needs me.”
Hi
s silence had her looking back up. The disappointment in his eyes made her own heart feel shriveled and rotted to the core.
“I wish I could stay then,” he said. “I would stay. For you.”
She felt the meaning, understood the sacrifice he’d be willing to make...just to be with her. “You barely know me.”
“But I should like to know you,” he said softly, his smile bittersweet with longing. “I should like that more than anything.”
So should I.
She swallowed the words. What use would it be to give false hope...to either of them. “But you will not stay,” she said.
He shook his head. “I would if I could, but too many lives would be in jeopardy if I were discovered.”
Her lips twitched with the urge to ask more questions. What was this secret history of his that could not be revealed?
But it was not her place to ask. Not if she was standing here rejecting his offer. She took a step back.
And that was what she was doing. She braced herself against the flood of emotions she would surely endure. Those could be dealt with at another time, on another day.
After he was gone.
She straightened her spine and squared her shoulders, clasping her hands together to keep from doing something outrageously silly like reaching out for him. “I will do as you ask at the ball,” she said. “Tomorrow I will give you a list of all the men who have joined my father’s small battalion here at the fort in recent years, and I will make sure that word has spread that the treasure will be unguarded, because I want to ensure that my town and my family are safe.” She moved toward the entrance to the cave. “But that is where our friendship ends, Mr. Haversaw. If all goes well, you will have your smuggler and the information you’re after tomorrow night, and I will have peace of mind for my family’s safety.”
He tipped his head down in acknowledgement and let her go without argument. Without a word at all.
His silence seemed to say too much.
She had to gasp for air as she picked her way over the stones toward the cliffside. Her chest felt so tight, she thought she might faint.
Miss Minerva's Pirate Mishap Page 8