It made her itch. This was all hers. No one came in here, it was her space. She clenched her hands then shook them out.

The sooner she was packed, the sooner she’d be out of here and away from him.

Trying her best to ignore him, even when she had to inch past his too-big form, she gathered the essentials. Hand mirror and a little bottle of perfume Perry had gifted her for her birthday. More clothes from the drawers, including her few nice chemises—all sheer silk and fine lace. Who knew what this lonely naval officer would do with a woman’s underwear if left unattended?

That made her chuckle to herself.

“Barnacle?” He stood by the bunk, holding up the red broadcloth cushion she’d made from fabric left over from her coat. “I’ve never seen a lady take to embroidering the names of sea creatures before.” He stared from the cushion to her, one eyebrow raised, corner of his mouth lifted.

Oh, yes, very bloody amusing. Somehow this was enough to make him wear an actual facial expression?

She threw him a withering look. “Don’t touch my things.” She rescued the cushion from his grasp and placed it back on the bed. “Barnacle is obviously the ship’s cat.”

“Oh, obviously. So, what’s this? A tribute to him in all his feline glory?”

“Her feline glory, actually. She likes to sleep in here, and if you don’t let her in, she’ll just scratch at the door all night until you do. So, good luck with that.”

Enough of him. This would do—if she needed anything else, she’d come back for it another time. She grabbed the duffle, and when she straightened, throwing it over one shoulder, he hadn’t backed away, leaving their bodies much too close for comfort.

Again, that heat radiated from him, more appealing now night had fallen and the air had grown chilly after the heat of battle.

No, not appealing. Nothing about him was appealing. He was Navy to the core—no doubt he’d start arranging things in her cabin the moment she was gone, aligning it all, setting things at perfect right angles.

And yet her breath sped along with her heart rate. He stared at her lips where they’d parted entirely without her intention.

She clamped her mouth shut.

Wild Hunt damn him, this had truly backfired. She would never have pulled that stunt with the weapons check if she’d known he’d be staying on board. It had been too long since she’d felt a lover’s arms, lips—or anything else for that matter—and touching him had sent her spinning off course, dizzy as a teenage girl.