Page 17 of The Heart of an Earl

Her face went expressionless, her eyes blinking. “A box? What box?”

“You slipped a box into a pocket under your skirt when we were in the captain’s quarters on theRed Dragon. You thought I wasn’t looking. I was.” He said the words casually, though the line of his jaw had tensed.

“You must be mistaken.”

“No. No, I don’t think I am.”

Silence filled the room and he scratched the side of his cheek, his hazel eyes intent on her.

She met his gaze, her jaw refusing to unhinge.

Another breath, and he held his elbow out to her. “You’ll tell me eventually. I have weeks to make that happen. In the meantime, shall we get that fresh air?”

A strained smile came to her lips and she set her fingers into the crook of his arm. “Aye. That would do me well.”

They moved onto the main deck, then walked up and onto the forecastle deck where they could stand mostly out of the way of the men. Des stopped by the starboard railing, his look fixed on the ocean, gusts tousling his light brown hair and sending it roguish across his brow. The winds had caught the sails full and the ship clipped along at an impressive pace, sea spray lifting high to wet her lips.

He glanced at her. “Tell me, Jules, what is it you want most in life now that you’re off theRed Dragon?”

“To be home again. To be home and normal.” Her words blurted out in a rush, no thought on them needed. It was the only reason she’d survived as long as she did—to get home.

“Aye. That seems right.” Des nodded, an odd crinkle lining his eyes. Worry. Or skepticism. She wasn’t quite sure.

His gaze shifted away from her and he leaned out past the railing, looking downward at the swells crashing into the bow. He shook his head. “We’re cutting at the wrong angle—too aggressive.”

Jules went to her toes and shifted her torso outward, the railing cutting into her belly as she looked past him to the hull. “Not the smoothest line, but it looks efficient for the time.”

He twisted to her and grabbed her arm, yanking her back from leaning too far out over the water. “Are you looking to fall overboard?”

Her lips pulled to one side, her cheek lifting in irritation. “I’ve been on a ship for the last six years, Des. I know how to not fall overboard.”

“You’ve not been on this ship.” His gaze dropped to his hand still clamped on her arm and his fingers snapped away.

Jules turned fully to him and she set her left forearm long atop the railing, looking up at him. “You are a natural worrier, aren’t you?”

He shrugged. “I imagine the worst that can happen and then I try to avoid that outcome, yes.”

“Were you always a worrier?”

“I don’t remember.” He turned his back to the railing, leaning against it as he clasped his arms across his chest and watched the crew scurry about. “My father died when I was twelve. My mother soon after. I was eighteen when I was separated from my wife. Then I spent years trying to escape the life I was thrust into and get back to my wife, only to learn she had died. So, yes. Yes, I worry. I look at every situation and determine what could go wrong.”

“What could go wrong with me?”

His gaze shifted to her and his hazel eyes slid into her, into the very crux of her soul.

“Everything.”

Harsh. But the way his voice caught—with sin and lust and curiosity and avoidance twisting around the word—made her chest tighten.

He was a dangerous one, this man.

Far more so than she had guessed when she decided to crash down upon him on theRed Dragon. Big. Strong. But also handsome. That fact had become abundantly clear during the last few days. Eating with him. Talking with him. His hazel eyes that saw everything in her mind—every barrier she’d carefully cultivated during the last six years to make sure not a soul knew what was actually going on in her head. In her heart.

Dangerous on too many levels.

His eyes shifted away from her and a frown creased his mouth. “That whelp—I don’t know how many times I told the boy to keep his feet out of the coils of rope. Excuse me—you stay here.”

She nodded and Des moved across the deck to scold the cabin boy.

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