The passion there...
It stole the breath from his lungs.
All combined, he found that she did look rather...perfect.
Perfect for him, at least.
He tilted his head to the side as a memory nagged at him. It was something about the shape of those eyes, the sharp curve of her jaw. She did not just look lovely, she looked...familiar. He was certain he’d never met this lady before—of course he hadn’t—but she reminded him of something. Of someone...
He could not quite put his finger on what memory she stirred.
She stopped backing away long enough to purse her lips and glare. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
He arched a brow. “What brings a young lady such as yourself to my cave at this hour of night?”
“It is not your cave,” she shot back. “It is my cave.”
“And you mean to protect it, I suppose.” He couldn’t seem to help himself from needling her further. She was rather adorable, this feisty little warrior, and she was outright breathtaking when her eyes sparked with fury.
Her brows drew down as she no doubt picked up on his teasing tone. “That’s right.”
Another move toward the edge and now she was out of the glow that had lit her face, her features cast in shadows and moonlight.
She was ready to sound some alarm, he imagined. To scream at the top of her lungs.
He winced. Unfortunately, that would not do. He had a limited opportunity to catch the men behind this smuggling operation so he could be on his way, off this dangerous soil, and after the new pirate leader. His last mission.
This young lady would only get in his way.
“You won’t get away with this,” she said. “My father and his men don’t take kindly to pirates on their shores.” Her frown turned to a scowl of disapproval. “What kind of pirate makes camp right next to a stone frigate anyway? It makes no sense.”
“It doesn’t, does it?” he agreed mildly. He’d thought it rather odd as well when he’d first received the message.
It also made it that much more dangerous. If whomever was behind this had no fear of getting caught, then it spoke to an inside job.
A traitor. Which gave credence to the rumors that the smuggling operation was being run by someone at this very encampment.
Marcus felt a sneer curving his lips. He despised traitors.
The lady across from him took another step back. “Don’t you dare try to stop me. One shout and my father will come running.”
It was a bluff, but he let her have it. Her courage had his sneer fading. He might despise traitors, but he certainly did admire courage.
Seeing such spirit was heartening, and only as he felt his chest swell did he realize just how low his spirits had fallen this past year.
“What is your name?” he asked. Silly, really, as it did not matter. He’d find this traitor soon enough and then he would be away. Off to start some new adventure.
And yet, it suddenly seemed quite urgent that he know. So he could have a name for this odd little creature when he called up this memory.
“As if I would tell you.” She stopped and bent at the waist to reach for her lantern.
Ah. There. Like a balm on some wound he hadn’t even known he suffered, he got another glimpse of that beautiful face. Of that fierce courage. Of—
A sound outside the cave cut into his mawkish musings. Something scraping. The lady turned to it as well, raising her lantern high, a sound escaping her parted lips before he could stop her.
He lunged toward her and clapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late.
Frustration had him muttering curses as he heard the sound change from scuffling to scrambling, to rocks and sand sliding as someone ran away.
Someone that could only be the true smuggler.
Another string of curses had the woman in his arms stiffening against him. But only for a heartbeat. Then she was fighting like a hellcat in his arms, her teeth baring behind his palm. He only just ripped his hand away as she went to bite him.
“You won’t get away with this,” she hissed as she squirmed in his arms.
“You scared away my contact,” he growled.
“Good!” She kicked back with her foot and it connected with his shin. He grunted at the contact, but he had a feeling it hurt her more than him because she made a whimpering sound that alarmed him and had him releasing her before he could think twice.
She rounded on him, arms and legs flailing in her quest to bring him down.
Him. A man twice her size.
He didn’t take long to marvel at her insanity...or her courage. “Now look here, young lady—”
“You scoundrel,” she shouted. “You knave!”
She was screeching like a banshee, and he was forced to rethink the validity of her earlier threat. He’d thought they were too far from the fort for her shouts to be heard, but he’d clearly underestimated the volume that could come from such a small creature.
If she got away, if someone came...oh, curse it. He had to tell her the truth before she ruined everything. They were on the same side, after all. She just didn’t know it.
“If you’ll just listen...” he started. He felt like a fool for sounding so reasonable in the face of her frantic shouts. “Miss, if you’d please just let me explain...”
Oh, blast it all. That was no better. He sounded like a fretting nursemaid.
And then they both heard it. Answering shouts. Voices heading in their direction.
His little prisoner’s face lit with joy and he...
Well, he lost his ability to breathe again.
But only for a moment.
For then she turned away to call back to her rescuers and he had the most absurd notion that he’d been the one set free.
There was no time to explain now,
