Agatha scrambled down and quickly picked up her pace to match his stride as best as she could. Which is to say she was basically running beside him considering his size. Hopefully she didn’t trip. She would be forced to reach for him to rebalance herself, and the last thing she wanted to do right now was rely on him. Or touch him. Or think about touching him. Or even think about relying on him. He was hermeans to an adventure. To experience. The word sparkled brilliantly in front of her, outshining any stars she had seen in the night sky.
Not acknowledging her dreamlike state, his long muscular legs, thighs as thick as tree trunks, consumed the ground at double the rate of her own legs.
So busy was she keeping up with his pace, she hardly noticed the change in terrain as they embarked on the ship. But she certainly recognized it when Jude braced his hand against her lower back.
“This is the ship.”
And for the first time, the full impact of her choice settled in her heart.
Out beyond England was an entire world she had never known. Entire civilizations of people she had never met. Couldn’t predict how they lived. What they ate. What they thought or believed. Pockets of worlds everywhere. And this ship could show her some of them. And it was as though someone had opened a lock on her spirit that she hadn’t known was there.
Unlocked.
Free.
But what to do with that freedom? She could be anyone, do anything. There was no one hovering over her shoulder criticizing her. Hell, even if they were judging her it didn’t matter because they didn’t know who she was.
This newfound feeling was at the same time and in equal measures both thrilling and down to her core terrifying.
“Do you trust me?” Jude’s abrupt question interrupted her thoughts.
“What?”
“Do you trust me, Siren?” He reached out his hand to draw her toward the ship.
And wasn’t that the question of the ages. Did she trust him? God, she shouldn’t. There was nothing trustworthy about the man, was there? He had faked everything so far this evening.
Well, wait. Had he?
Actually, he hadn’t lied about anything so far. She had been the one hiding herself. He hadn’t even dressed up for a masquerade ball for goodness’ sakes. He had come as a privateer. He had arrived and departed as himself. She had been the fool to mistake him for a pirate, and then to think that it was just a costume.
So if anyone had been lying this evening, it had been her. Just like it always was.
Dressing as a mermaid, as if she held some magical powers. Lying about her interest in philosophy. All to please her mother.
Well…where was dear ol’ mother now. She wasn’t here. Agatha was alone with a man who had no reason to lie to her or expect anything of her. He had no stake in her welfare or reputation. He had nothing to lose or gain by being around her. She had been the one to force herself upon him each and every time, so why quit now.
She eyed his outstretched hand. Her heart thumped a wild beat in her chest, and she could feel drops of sweat drip down her back. The ocean breeze whooshed across her face, calming her. The sound of the waters inviting her. She didn’t know yet what she was getting into. But that was always the way of doing something new. You don’t know what you don’t know. So here was her chance to learn.
Did she trust him?
Placing her hand in his, she allowed him to lead the way.
Chapter 9
DAMN IT. JUDE FISTED his hands in his pockets after dropping her hand. He didn’t need more contact with the she-devil. What the deuce was he thinking bringing this chit on his ship? He was still drunk, though slowly sobering up. Far too slowly, by his estimation.
A gently bred lady had no place on a privateer ship with men who had seen some of the worst that life had to offer. Never mind that she wasn’t staying, she shouldn’t be here at all. He would just show her the ship and then send her home. She was blistering with innocence and he had taken enough of that tonight. He ignored the fact that she had come onto him. He was the mature one, the older one, the one with more experience. He should have said no. He should have pushed her out of the library door.
But then she might have gone to find someone else. And that thought was a burden he wasn’t willing to bear.
That should have been all though. Except the damn chit had seen fit to hijack his carriage. The second he had seen that flicker of her fabric under the seat, he should have stopped the conveyance and sent her back into the ball.
But no, he had to go and listen to his gut—which up until this evening had never led him astray. In fact, up until this evening, his gut and him had been the best of mates. His gut had been the one to steer him into privateering in the first place. His gut had reminded him not to pull on a trigger too quickly when he thought he was about to be attacked walking down the street when it had only turned out to be Big John. That same gut had also been the one to pull the same trigger altogether too quickly one time. It ended up saving Sprat’s life one night when they had all been corralled into a tavern fight and at first they hadn’t noticed the pistol their attacker had.
His gut. It had always been one trusty fellow.
Until this evening.
