She arched a brow in disbelief. “Is it?”
“Not everyone has courage. And those who have it ought to be proud.”
She tilted her head to the side as she considered that. “Ought they?”
She seemed to be musing over this to herself, but he took a step closer, and this time, she did not swat his hand away when he cupped her chin and lifted her face up so her gaze collided with his.
“You were made for...” Me. He swallowed. “More,” he finished abruptly. “You were made for more. If any of these officers cannot see your sense of adventure, your courage and your drive, your passion—”
“Enough.” She pulled back, but her breathing was labored, and her cheeks were flushed.
“Forgive me,” he said with a rueful smile, his own pulse pounding in his veins at whatever it was that had just passed between them. “I suppose I tend to get overly passionate myself at times.”
“Yes, well...” She licked her lips, her gaze darting over the cave around them and the treasure at their feet. “Let us get back to the topic at hand.”
“Very well.” His hands dropped to his sides as he brushed aside his disquietude. It was almost as though they had just come close to something...something great. Something momentous.
It was the feeling of narrowly escaping danger. Or perhaps just missing something epic and glorious. Either way, he felt oddly deflated when he spelled his plan out for her. How she would spread the word that this treasure would be unguarded during the ball when the toasts would be made. That her father believed the threat to be gone now that the pirate had fled. These lies he had no doubt she could sell.
She had an honest face, and those made for the most believable liars.
Meanwhile, he and Caleb would keep watch, ready to trap their prey.
“Whoever this smuggler is...” She frowned as she stewed over the plan. “He would have to be quite the fool to fall for this trick. To honestly believe that my father would leave the treasure unattended?”
He smiled. “Foolish or just desperate. My bet is on the latter. If he’s allied with the band of pirates and ruffians we believe he’s been doing business with, this thief would not dare lose the treasure and have nothing to show for it.”
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
