Page 24 of Terms of Trade (Trade Wind 4)

“Please.” She extended a gracious hand toward the ladder, covering her initial reaction, which was to resist his offer and assert that she’d gone up and down those steps unassisted many times.

The air was moist and chilly, but that didn’t account for the shaking of her hands when it was her turn to descend. She was used to frigid Boston winters, after all, but not to Nicholas Irons. She fought to maintain her attention on the inclined ladder, an extra challenge in her finery, rather than on the man watching her.

Her gown and voluminous petticoats were suited to today’s important visit, yet a danger on board a ship. She couldn’t see her feet; within a few steps down, she was grabbing fistfuls of her skirts to avoid stepping on them.

One foot settled gingerly onto the narrow tread shoulder-height to Nicholas. As she lowered her other foot, her boot heel snagged in the fabric. So began the chain of events leading to the buckling of her ankle, sending her backwards off the ladder.

Panic closed her throat, and her arms flailed. Nicholas caught her, cradling her to his chest as he bent to follow the momentum of her fall. Turning at the last moment, his shoulder, not any part of her body, impacted the wall.

Still gasping for air, she fought against her cloak, freeing her hands to clutch at his lapels. Even as her mind registered that he held her securely, her heart pounded, as if her body still expected her to impact the floor any second. She closed her eyes, the sick feeling of dread persisting until she forced slow breaths.

Nicholas slid down against the wall until he sat with his legs extended in front of him. It took her a moment to realize his arms encircled her still, and though her legs had settled onto the deck, in effect, she lay across his lap.

“I, I—” She sought the words to apologize or explain, but his arms tightened around her, drawing her close.

“You’re safe.”

Without thinking, she allowed her head to rest against his arm and shoulder, accepting the comfort. Awareness dawned in increments. The cold winter air dissipated as his heat radiated into her. The stench of the Thames cleared, and she inhaled his clean scent, warm with hints of bourbon vanilla.

Eventually, her breathing slowed and matched the even rise and fall of his chest. When her body relaxed, she looked up, unsurprised to find him watching her back. The skylights above them all but begged the grey London sky for the sun’s rays, yet scant amounts of light entered.

Adjusting to the dimness at last, she was unprepared for longing in his eyes. Her hands renewed their grip on his coat, both breathing faster when his regard dropped to her lips.

“First, the Fates dropped you into my office. Now, into my arms.”

His words were quiet, and in her shock, it took her a long time to understand them. When she did, she moved off his lap.

Either he had confused her with an inconsequential piece of model stairway flying through the air and needing rescue, or perhaps he was more of a seducer than she realized. She managed to still her tongue against a biting retort, but after a few more breaths—and reminders of his importance to her plan—she turned to him again, steeled against his charms.

He searched her gaze.

What secrets of mine are you searching for now?

Nicholas’s smile was enigmatic. “I don’t yet know what part of the shipisyour favorite, but it’s not the ornate dining saloon.”

Her eyes widened and her fury grew.How dare he!He spoke as if he knew her and all but called out her deception.

“Why would you say that?” The words she settled on sounded pitiful; however, she truly wanted the answer.

“Helen, you shouldn’t play cards.”

She sat up straighter. “I don’t! I wouldn’t! I haven’t the inclination for such triviality. Such recklessness!”

Helen knew her mistake; she had revealed too much, and she could all but see him taking notes, even though his expression changed little.Damn him!

He seemed to witness the details of her recollections—the creak of the front door in the middle of the night when her father finally stumbled home from his card games before succumbing to a day’s stupor.

“You don’t enjoy life aboard a clipper, do you?”

His quiet question was spoken as if he knew the answer, so she didn’t bother replying.

“Why sail all the way to China, then?”

Helen looked away but couldn’t help her scoff.I haven’t any choice. She swallowed the words; they were none of his affair.

She needed this man. Correction—she needed the silver that this man could facilitate. She mustered her most pleasant expression. “What lady doesn’t love a grand adventure? This is not a card game—and it’s not trivial. The stakes are much higher. The profits are much greater.”

“Is it reckless, though?”

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