Part 28 (1/2)

It was the first time she'd said his name since he'd seen her again, and he hated the context.

It infuriated him, her calm certainty. The warning. His name, in her voice, which had once been so beloved. ”Oh, no doubt. No doubt. And you must of course protect the man you love from being hurt.”

He was aware of a faint bitterness in his voice.

She whirled on him hurriedly. ”I didn't say I love-”

They both froze, eyes locked.

The moment so taut and fragile one could have tapped a ping from it.

”Yes?” he said tersely.

At last she dropped her gaze again.

And was stubbornly silent.

The breeze had freed more of her silky black hair and it lashed and danced around her head like a dervish. Mesmerizing, the dark hair against the brightening blue of the sky. He remembered the feel of it in his hand when he'd cradled her head to take a kiss deeply. The textures of her had long haunted him: the generous give of her lips. The silken slide of her skin when he'd dared to explore so far, and no farther.

”I don't think you should underestimate him,” was all she said, finally. Her voice quieter now.

”I wouldn't dream of it. After all, people you underestimate might surprise you and do things like, oh, absconding with you a few weeks shy of your wedding.”

”He'll come after me if he discovers I'm gone.”

”He won't discover it. I've made certain of it. But If he does, I'll be ready for him,” he said simply. Amused. ”And I'll hand you back if that's what you want.”

A hesitation.

”Lyon-”

That tone. So reasonable. So condescending. Almost placating.

It infuriated him.

”Enough.” His voice cracked like a musket shot.

She flinched, her eyes widening.

”Don't you want to finish this, Olivia? And if you can swear on all you hold dear-whether that's your own lovely head, your family, the ground your ancestral estate rests upon, the esteem of Landsdowne, if indeed you do hold that dear-if you know with the same certainty you know the sun will rise tomorrow and that Everseas and Redmonds will remain at each other's throats through eternity that you don't love me anymore-I will send you back now. Say the word. Can you swear that you don't?”

Love.

That word. It was a cannonball fired over battlements.

He'd used it so much more easily than she had.

Then again, men were always more comfortable with weapons.

Her eyes had seemed to him so beautiful and changeable, so full of promise and tenderness and mystery, a little dangerous when they crackled with temper. A man could get lost there. Or found there. Like the sea.

And maybe that was why he was so at home on the sea.

She closed them.

And gave her head an almost imperceptible shake: no.

”That's what I thought,” he said, with grim satisfaction.

He turned swiftly.

”But-”

”I need to speak to my first mate about our course. Don't try to throw yourself overboard. You're being watched, and my crew isn't accustomed to handling anything gently.”

Chapter 16.

SHE WAS STUNNED AND furious and exhausted but she still couldn't help it: she opened one eye, and then the other, just so she could watch him go.

But then, it had always required a superhuman effort not to watch Lyon Redmond.

Now she saw a critical difference. When she'd met him that night in the ballroom, there had been a remote self-awareness about him. As though he balanced a burden no one could see, as though he was walking an invisible line drawn for him beyond which he could never go.

Now he walked as if he owned the earth and everyone on it and gave not one d.a.m.n what anyone thought, including her.

She'd forgotten how relentless he could be. Absolutely merciless in the pursuit of a truth.

She hadn't forgotten how easily he could surprise her into laughing.

And just like that, in came another tide of anger for all that he was now.

And all that she'd missed.

And all that he'd missed.

She turned toward the water reflexively and tensed in shock, her palms digging into the railing, her knuckles curled in a painful grip.

No land in sight.

Dear G.o.d, no land in sight.

Just endless, heaving, gla.s.sine, blue-green in every direction. A veil of silvery foam, like the train of a royal bride, trailed the s.h.i.+p. The air was briny and winy, every breath she took exotically delicious and wind-scoured, and it stung her cheeks and sent her hair las.h.i.+ng at them like a cat-o-nine tails.

The sails cracked and billowed as the wind swelled them, and pushed the s.h.i.+p ever more swiftly forward.

d.a.m.n.