He wanted to catch her, and kiss her senseless.

He wasn’t surprised when she ducked back below. His quarters were down there, and he was certain his pretty little spy would find much in the place to entertain her.

Grinning, he pulled in the dock lines, hauled anchor, and got the Journeyman under way. As he steered out of Aberdeen harbor, Aidan’s smile turned wicked. He’d show his Elspeth what happened to stowaways.

Elspeth looked around at what she deduced was Aidan’s cabin. It was tiny, but tidy, with a narrow bunk, lantern, and nautical instruments and maps stowed in neat compartments on a small table.

She pulled out one of the maps, fascinated by this glimpse of a sailor’s life. Smoothing it carefully on the table, she thought of her heroic pirate rogue. When he’d sailed from the Indies to Scotland, he hadn’t been able to read, and yet he’d navigated his way, in spite of it all. He might not have been able to decipher letters on a page, but he knew how to read the stars in the sky.

Her breath caught, feeling a pang in her heart. Aidan was all alone in the world, and yet, standing in his orderly captain’s cabin, she saw how he’d carved a place for himself. He’d endured such pain, rising like a phoenix from the nightmarish ashes of his childhood.

She sat on the hard bunk, and the echoes of him, all around her, were a comfort.

The events at Fraser’s office had confused her. Despite her understanding that they’d agreed to end their engagement, at the conclusion of their meeting, the old merchant had gotten a strange, suspicious look in those slitted eyes. But a veil had quickly dropped over them, concealing whatever machinations he might’ve been entertaining. Wondering what thoughts he hid, she’d left his offices feeling deeply unsettled.

Their ridiculous betrothal would be broken—she’d will it thus, if need be. She’d be Aidan’s wife, or nobody’s.

Using thoughts of Aidan to summon strength, she’d gone to the docks, soon finding herself searching for the ship in which he’d been stolen away so long ago. The sight of it had seared her, her heart breaking all over again for the boy he’d been.

She’d always battled self-pity for her own situation—a lone daughter set up as the de facto head of an impoverished household—but her childhood had been the lap of luxury compared to the horrors he’d experienced.

There was a clattering and the boat heaved, and she gripped the edge of the bunk to steady herself, panic seizing her chest. Were they leaving the dock? Was she to find herself indentured to some distant tropical isle?

Forcing her breath to steady, she made her way back up the ladder, her skirts an awkward tangle around her legs. With a calming inhale, she peeked onto the deck.

Aidan. Her pulse leaped at the sight of him, jauntily perched on a rail, one hand resting on the helm. His easy smile met her.

“Afternoon, luvvie. You’ve always said you wanted a sail.”

Chapter 26

“A sail? Truly, Aidan, you’re taking me for a sail?” Elspeth spun in a circle on deck, taking it all in. A gray-and-white plume of water trailed them as Aberdeen harbor receded into the distance. It was breathtaking. A sharp gust snapped life into the sails, and she studied them, regretful concern stabbing her. “But don’t you need men to help?”

“A sloop this small, one man can handle her.” He stood and, tying a rope over the wheel to steady it, stalked toward her. The look in his eyes sent a shiver across her skin. “But you.” He swept his knuckles along her cheek. “How readily I can handle you is another matter entirely.”

Her wind-chilled cheeks turned hot. She, an unmanageable sort of woman? Never had she been paid a higher compliment. “Are you saying I require management?” She was proud of the coy lilt she heard in her own voice.

He seemed to give her question honest consideration. “I think that is precisely what I’m saying.”

She laughed, but was interrupted by a loud racket as the largest of the three sails began to snap and clang in the wind.

He ran to it, hauling on the winch to tighten the sheet. His shirt strained over his broad back and arms as he spun the handle as easily as she might stir a pot.

“She needed a bit of luffing,” he said, cuffing his sleeves as he strode back to her. His hair was a windwhipped tangle, and he raked it from his face.

Her breath caught. Aidan truly was a rogue, a man alone in the world. Like a hero on a quest, he could go anywhere, be anyone. And with him, she’d finally become the pirate bride she’d always dreamed of being.

“Now where were we?” he asked, studying her.

The smile in his eyes emboldened her, and feeling mischievous, she pointed up the mast to the crow’s nest. “I think you were readying to take me up there.”

“Was I?” He looked up, shielding his eyes from the glare. “That was a fool thing of me to consider.”

“Well?” She raised her brows. If she were to live out one dream, she might as well realize every last one. And she’d always dreamed of climbing the rigging, soaring over the waves like a bird in flight. “Will you?”

“Will I take you up to the lookout?” Widened eyes spoke to his amused disbelief.

She nodded gravely. She’d show him she was not an object of amusement.

His eyes grazed up the thin rope ladder to the rickety perch situated high in the air. “It’s just a barrel, Beth. Lashed to the mast with a bit of line.”

But she was determined to climb as high as any pirate. Sensing that pride might be Aidan’s weakness, she asked, “Are you saying your ship isn’t secure?”

“You know I’m not,” he said, his eyes narrowed.

“Then why not take me?”

“Because it won’t fit the two of us.”

“Then it’s a good thing you don’t seem to want to go up there.” She smiled, proud of her logic.

“I’m not letting you climb that alone,” he said quickly, disbelief in his voice.

“Good, then we’ll climb it together.” She hiked her skirts. “Shall we?”

He shook his head at her. Gritting his teeth, finally he said, “If you must.”

She beamed. “I must.”

Instinctively, she knew not to look down and kept her eyes trained on the rungs as she climbed. Before she knew it, she was clambering into the barrel, Aidan holding on to the ladder with one hand and guiding her over with the other.

It truly was just a barrel sawed in half, with alternate slats removed, and she arranged herself as best she could, slipping her legs through the narrow gaps.

She realized Aidan was laughing. “What?” she demanded, summoning as much dignity as one could with one’s skirts bunched about one’s knees. But he only shook his head, so she pressed: “What is it?”

“It’s only that you flew up the rigging like a … like

a …” “A what?” “Well, like no overeager cabin boy I’ve ever seen.” “Are you saying you think of me as a boy?” She’d spo

ken playfully. But then she caught his eyes devouring her bare legs, and she blushed.

“Certainly not,” he said in a husky voice. Clearing his throat, he tore his gaze from her pale skin. His eyes were hooded when they met hers.

He looked so dangerous, clinging to the rigging with that look in his eyes. Shyness struck her, paralyzing her tongue in her mouth.

His expression softened. “Don’t be shy on my account,” he told her quietly, sensing her discomfort. And of course he sensed it. Aidan seemed always to understand. Even when she’d not been able to string two words together without stuttering, he’d looked past her self-consciousness to see her true self.

He unleashed his most rakish smile. “You have lovely knees—it’s only right that you bare them to Neptune himself. And besides, they say a naked woman on board ship brings good luck.”

“Aidan!” she shrieked, shocked and delighted in equal parts.

“I speak truly.” With an innocence she knew was feigned, he added gravely, “That is why so many ships bear a carved lady as a figurehead.”

“Is it indeed?” She didn’t know how they’d found themselves discussing such a thing as naked ladies carved upon ships’ bows. It made her skin feel taut and uncomfortable, as though it were stretched too tight over her bones.

A sharp gust tore her hair loose, and the wind lashed every which way over her bared calves. She couldn’t help but inhale deeply, taking a great gulp of that fresh air. It smelled extraordinary, so brisk and clean, she had to wonder if she were perhaps the first ever even to breathe it. It was so unlike the air of Aberdeen—the oily, fishy rot of its harbor, or the scent of mildew and dung that clung to their small cottage.

Clutching her wind-whipped hair to the side of her head, she eagerly devoured the vast gray swath of nothingness yawning before her. The open sea. So much water all around, it was incomprehensible.

For a moment, seated upon her glorious perch, she felt as if time had been suspended. Somewhere people were being born, living their lives, and dying, all in the space of her musings.

The wind gusted again, and she trembled.

“Are you afraid?” Aidan’s low, masculine voice cut through the keening sea air.

She looked down at him and shivered again, for an entirely different reason. He clung to the rope ladder, trying his best not to glance at her naked knees, his roguish eyes wrinkling in a smile meant only for her.

“No,” she said. “Not afraid.”

Shaking his head, he grinned. “No, of course you’re not.”

“Merely cold.” She gave him a rueful smile.

“We’ll simply have to amend that.” He gripped a broad hand around her knee, tucking warm fingers in the crook of it.

Her breath caught, his hand on her naked skin throwing her back in time, making her as heart-wrenchingly tongue-tied as she’d ever been when they first met.

The boat hit a wave and lurched, and Aidan swayed into her, his hand sliding higher up her skirts. The warmth of his touch turned into a scorching heat, searing up between her legs and inflaming her belly.