“Open it, then.” She nodded at the case, clenching and unclenching her hands. The hairs of her arms stood on end. Her skin tingled.

Fine, so he wasn’t the only one excited. Not opening it had almost killed her, but the look on his face made it worth it—lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed. She’d seen it before, but they’d been wearing a lot less clothing at the time.

His throat bobbed in a slow swallow, and he twisted open the case, his thick, long fingers surprisingly gentle—reverent, almost.

There was a whisper of paper as he pulled out a scroll. So, she’d guessed right. Light, creamy paper, thick and smooth—good quality. She held her breath as he unrolled it. Although it was tatty at the edges, it was in surprisingly good condition.

He bent over the desk, holding it flat, brows lowering as he scanned it. “I don’t—it’s nonsense.”

Her chest jumped. “What?” No, surely—

She rounded the desk, crowding next to him to see the scroll clearly. A string of letters, no spaces, all upper case, no U’s. She clutched her stomach and exhaled, shoulder rubbing his. “Not nonsense—Latium, written the old way.” Thank the gods for that. “They didn’t always use spaces between words in inscriptions, sometimes they’d put dots, but not normally spaces.” With a reassuring smile, she patted his hand—his skin was hot as if he burned to read it for himself.

“Then what does it say?”

“Let’s see …” She weighted the top of the scroll. “I, Admiral Drake”—she frowned, he’d only ever been a Vice Admiral, but maybe he’d been looking to exaggerate his position—“have no treasure—what? And only a fool would still be looking for it after two centuries.” Her mouth dried, but she kept reading, voice rasping on the words. “Silver. Gold. Rubies. None of it for you, madam Lyons.” Her breaths came hard and quick, flame burning up her back, her neck, over her cheeks.

“No. It can’t be …” Blackwood had written this. She’d climbed all over his ship, risked entering his cabin for an insulting letter. “That bastard,” she breathed.

At her side, FitzRoy shook, a strangled noise coming from his throat. Slowly, he turned to her, face contorting until it didn’t even look like him anymore.

Without meaning to, she backed away a step.

“Only a fool,” he growled, grabbing her arm and yanking her close. “Your hunter’s calling me a fool.” His breath blew across her face as he bared his teeth. His fingers bit into her flesh, and he tried to give her a shake, but she tensed her arm against it.

“Get your damn hands off me, Fitz,” she growled back. “He’s not my—”

“He’s here for you. And you were the one stupid enough to fall for his trick. I should leave you to him.”