Page 54 of Any Duke in a Storm

It was quite a good chin—strong and square. His nose was nice, too, and though it was bold and long, it suited the sweeping angles and planes of his face. Like his hair, his eyelashes were thick, jet-black, and long, and droplets of water clung to them when his eyes closed. She knew the sandblasted stormy color of them by heart, however. Those singular gray eyes with their speckled brown sunbursts were quite unforgettable.

She rinsed his hair and lathered it again, the strands slippery in her fingers. “Did you grow up in Paris?”

“Yes, though we visited my mother’s homeland often. It was strange but I felt more…myself there. In Tobago.”

“Truly?” she asked, curious.

“A child with my skin and hair color tended to stand out in the fancy drawing rooms in Paris. At times, despite my father’s status with the emperor, I felt like a charming oddity on display. Look at the beautiful boy, they wouldall coo and carry on, like I didn’t have feelings or a brain in my head. Like I was a pretty object to admire. They say beauty is a curse, and it only worsened when I got older.” He sighed. “And prettier.”

She smiled and tugged on his hair. “Such vanity, Monsieur le Duc.”

His eyes flashed open. “It was the bane of my existence.”

“I am only teasing,” she said and stroked her fingertips across his temples. “I know what it’s like to be judged on the basis of one thing. In my case, it’s my sex. I have had to work harder for every scrap of the name I’ve made for myself in a world dominated by men.”

“Bonnie Bess?”

She exhaled sharply at the near miss. She’d meant as a spy, but her current identity would serve well enough. Carving out a space for herself in the cutthroat smuggling trade had nearly broken her. She’d had to say things,dothings, that she wasn’t proud of, but all of it had been in the name of her mission. Her crimes would be absolved. Still, the past two years had left an indelible mark on her soul.

She shrugged. “Women are expected to be good for one purpose…marriage and babies, when we are so much more than the sum of our wombs.”

His stare bored into hers. “I agree wholeheartedly.”

Lisbeth didn’t know what made her ask. Perhaps she wanted to feel that connection strengthen between them one more time. Or perhaps she didn’t want to feel so alone on her stupid self-imposed island when he was the only one who had ever truly seen her.

Whosawher now.

Her voice shook. “Tell me something true, Pirate.”

Neither of them moved for a long moment, and she resigned herself to the fact that he might not answer. She deserved that for her refusal earlier. But when he finally did speak, his voice was so soft, she could barely hear him. “You deserve to be happy with whomever you choose to be. Whether that’s Bonnie Bess or not. We choose the paths we follow. We determine who we are.”

Sixteen

A week later, Raphael was healed enough to make the short journey to Nassau after he received word that one of his ships from France had arrived in port. Lisbeth wondered if he’d want to sail back to Europe. If so, she’d have to find a way to the United States on her own. A daunting prospect, considering the role she was playing as Saint’s paramour, but surely there would be someone leaving Nassau who would accommodate her. This wasn’t Exuma. There were lawful transports here. She only needed to be able to pay her way.

And money she did not have, at least at present.

Despite her best efforts to figure out a way to get word to Jenks or get herself to New York, she was a sitting duck at the moment. Raphael already knew based on her slipup that theSyrenwas in port there. He didn’t knowhowshe knew, however, but the man was astute enough to guess that she might have mailed correspondence at the Cedar Key post office or worse—her stomach dipped—spoken to the customs agents directly, which she had.

She was undercover; deception was the nature of her profession.

So why did she feel soguilty?

Lisbeth had never felt conflicted about her workbefore, but her overwhelmingly complicated feelings for the man were confusing both her morals and her motivations. And the soft truth he’d given her that night of the bath had seeded and grown roots in her mind.

Could she be someone other than a spy?

Could she simply behappy?

Lisbeth had always thought that happiness was a construct. She prided herself on a job well done, on the validation that she received from the Home Office, on completing each assignment and moving on to the next. Those things were things within her control that gave her satisfaction and pleasure. She had never depended on other people for that. But Raphael made her want more, made her think she wasdeservingof more. The barricaded island that had served her so faithfully for years suddenly felt…sparse and lonely.

“Bess, did you hear?” Narina shrieked, jerking her from her bothersome thoughts. “We’re going to New York once Saint’s ship has been readied with fuel and provisions. It’s huge, too! That’s it out there. Do you see it? Behind the two smaller ones. They big gray one with the huge masts. Saint says I can be his junior quartermaster. Me!”

“That’s wonderful, Nari,” she said, her eyes finding the ship instantly. Her gaze flicked back to its tall captain, though Raphael wasn’t looking in their direction. He was talking to a tall man with auburn hair and pale skin. Was he charting course to New York for her? Or was that a strange coincidence?

Narina did a little dance, hopping from one foot to theother, and growled like a pirate. “One day I’ll have my own ship like you and Saint, and I’ll sail the oceans leaving pillage and carnage in my wake!”

Lisbeth held back a snort of laughter. The child was bloodthirsty for such a little thing. Lisbeth supposed she hadn’t been the best example to her over the past two years in her guise as Bonnie Bess, and her exploits would have been extra juicy gossip in many a tavern in the Caribbean. “How about less carnage and more honest hard work? That way, you won’t get arrested.”

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