How to Be a Proper Lady

“Does she know she has won herself a fine of one hundred and fifty pounds firing within the limits of the harbor?”

“I would not be surprised if she suspected as much.”

“Bloody hell, man. Does she think she can blast away in the middle of the night without attracting anyone’s notice?” He swept his arm toward the clusters of people gathered across the street. “She’s woken up the entire town! Frightened my wife clear out of her nightcap.”

“Miss Daly had reason to fire.”

The port master finally turned his attention on her. “It had better be a dashed good reason, young lady.”

Viola’s belly twisted. No man spoke to her as though she were a little girl, especially not in the wake of the second greatest heartbreak of her life. No man.

“A sloop full of Curacaon arsonists has escaped your port.” She controlled her tone with effort. “Not two hours ago they set fire to Aidan Castle’s fields. We chased them here and attempted to waylay them despite the dead wind.”

His eyes were wide. “Arsonists? And after all that firing you failed to catch them?”

She pinched her lips. “No doubt if we’d had you aboard to man the guns we would not have, sir. I am terribly sorry you arrived late.”

The port officer blustered. “Now see here, young la-”

Jin stepped forward. “I suspect you are eager to return to bed, sir. Perhaps we could postpone this discussion until morning. I am certain Miss Daly will be happy to oblige.”

“Stay out of this, Seton.”

“At least someone aboard this ship is speaking sense,” the port official clipped. He poked a forefinger toward her. “I will expect you at my office by nine o’clock, miss. And if I hear you have absconded during the night, I will not hesitate to send out a vessel after you to collect that fine and have you imprisoned.”

She clamped down on the retort that rose to her lips and nodded. With another skeptical pass of his gaze over her garments and a shake of his head, the port officer turned and strode from the deck, the soldiers in his wake.

She rounded on Jin. “What do you think you’re doing, speaking for me?”

“Assisting you.”

“I didn’t need your assistance.”

The half moon glittered in his eyes. “Humbly, I beg to differ.”

“There’s nothing humble about you, you arrogant-”

“Perhaps you would rather continue this discussion in the morning as well.”

“Damn it. One hundred and fifty pounds.” She hadn’t fifty pounds aboard ship let alone thrice that. She headed for the stairs to the gun deck, to refuge in her cabin, the one place that belonged to her, where no man could insist she do as he bid.

The fallen sail blocked the steps.

“Get this out of my way,” she shouted to the nearest sailors. They bent to it, but slowly, weary from the battle or too much drink. Her gaze traveled around. The lot of them stood glassy-eyed and slump-shouldered. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew they were as disappointed in the failure as she. But it was more than that. Becoua’s dark eyes looked so soft gazing upon her, almost…

It could not be pity. She would not stand for it to be pity.

“No.” She swept her hand across her vision. “No! Just go. Get out of here, off this ship until I tell you to return.” Her hands shook. She was exhausted from the ride on the horse, the emotions, the entire day filled with far too many feelings. Her lungs ached and she wanted to be alone. She must be alone. “All of you, go!” She pivoted to Seton. “Except you.”

She could not throw him off the ship. She still had one day. She might yet win the wager. She had no idea how. He was immovable. He would not be won over by her seduction or frustrated by her incivility. He would not be moved by her at all.

He was watching her now with his unreadable blue eyes, standing perfectly still while her men filed from the ship in cowed silence. Little Billy came last and she stopped him.

“Why did you bring horses to Mr. Castle’s farm, Billy? Why were you and Matouba there tonight at all?”

He shrugged. “Cap’n bade us, ma’am.” His footsteps descended down the gangplank. She sucked in the night air, trying to breathe, the sensations streaming inside her alien, like panic but deeper and cold.

This was wrong. She should be hot with anger and betrayal, she knew, filled with the heat of fury. This was worse. She had felt it only once before, months after Fionn stole her away from England, the day she finally understood that he would not take her back home, no matter how she pleaded.

She moved again to the companionway. The main topsail had fallen, twisted in its lines and far too heavy for a lone soul to move. She grabbed at its bulk anyway, pulling and tripping over the scalded ropes and her ripped hem.

“Viola, let it be. Or allow me to call some of the men back to move it before you injure yourself.” His voice cajoled. More pity, from the most unlikely source.

The cold dug deeper.

“Damn and damn!” She cut her arm through the air as though she held a cutlass and could slash at the ruined canvas. “Damn! Give me your sword.” She flattened out her palm.

“You don’t need a sword, and you don’t want to cuss like that.”

She whirled on him. “You have no idea what I want.”

“I do.” His eyes said a great deal more. He had seen them in the garden. He had seen her cry. He understood. His face cast in moonlight was a portrait of sheer male beauty and unwavering certainty.

Viola’s heart thudded in her constricted chest. She wanted the hurt to go away and she wanted him. Him. Not Aidan. She wanted Jin Seton so much she could taste it.

“You don’t know anything. You can’t.” She hadn’t even known until now.

He regarded her so steadily. “She is an infant,” he said quietly. “Why would you want a man who wants a woman like that?”

Her breath failed. She turned and stepped down onto the sail. It sagged, her shoe slipped, she grabbed the rail and propelled herself to the lower deck. He came after her easily, as though he climbed over fallen sails draped across companionways every day. Which possibly he did, or had done at one time in his life, a life about which she had heard more from others than from him.

“Viola-”

“Look who knows all about what I want, the man who pretends he has no interest in kissing a woman after he has clearly demonstrated that he does.”

In the new dimness of the cabin deck, his eyes darkened. “Now you are acting like the infant. Castle might set up an entire nursery.” His jaw was taut. Was she affecting him? Nicking his pride, no doubt.

She wanted to hurt that pride. Because she hurt more than she could bear.

“Arrogant bastard.” She barely whispered it. But in the stillness of the low-ceilinged deck, the word was crystal clear.

His eyes sparked, fire igniting in them. Her stomach sickened. She couldn’t believe what she had uttered.

“Forgive me, Jin. Please.” She pressed the back of her shaking hand over her mouth.

“For what, acting like a child?” His voice was low. And in response, finally, the heat rose within her.

“A child? Is that the best I can do?” The sensation of defeat tangling with desire overwhelmed. Her palm covered her eyes. “Oh, this is not at all what I-”

“This is idiocy.” He grabbed her wrist, slung her against his chest, and kissed her. He kissed her not tenderly but as he had in her cabin, claiming her mouth entirely. Fierce and hungry and with perfect possession, he demanded that she not resist.

She couldn’t resist. It was all she wanted. But this time she did not want it to end so swiftly. Ever. She kissed him back no less urgently, allowing him to mold her lips to his. She felt his strength, tasted his hunger, drank him in like a drug, hot and damp with smoke and pure need.

He broke the kiss, lifted his head. Her hand trapped in his grasp between them knew the hurtling of her heartbeat, or his. His gaze glittered like shattered glass traveling over her features, desire heavy in it. But uncertainty too, or perhaps a question. In the stillness, only their uneven breaths met the creaking of planking.