He thrust the bottle at Effie, eyes back on Vice now he’d finished drinking. There was still that odd look she couldn’t quite place—something like longing? Or maybe the look of someone staring at a knot they couldn’t untie.

Wynn and Effie stumbled back into the dancers, laughing and singing along, leaving Vice and Knigh a few feet apart, stillness in the middle of the chaotic wheeling.

Vice cocked her head at him. “Are you—”

He lurched closer, now only a few inches away, warmth radiating off him. “How do you do that?”

She frowned and glanced at the bottle of rum being passed around, now in Aedan’s large hands. He couldn’t mean that—she’d barely had more than him, certainly not enough to be impressive. “Do what?”

His hand waved up and down. “Be this.”

She scoffed, eyes narrow as she shook her head. What was he getting at? “I’m just me.”

His brows contracted, the area around his eyes tensing. On anyone else, it would have been an unremarkable twitch, but on him, it felt more like seeing his expression break. “Exactly.” He shook his head, again just a small movement, but something about it felt far truer than his usual studied gestures. “How are you so relaxed about it—about everything?”

Vice’s heart clenched, painful for a second. Bloody hells—he envied her.

The poor man was wound tighter than cable around the capstan. And not just now, always. His shoulders, his arms, his jaw, neck, chest, all so stiff, they’d almost withstand a gale right up until the moment they snapped.

And his eyes, they were full of such intensity that when she looked up from her survey and met his gaze, it was like a physical strike. Every single thing he did was so controlled, calculated, no wonder he looked at her like that. What had the Navy done to make him like this?

She sighed softly. Damn him, but he’d helped her today. Maybe she could help him with this. Then they’d be even.

“Well”—she snatched the rum from Wynn as she scampered past, arm-in-arm with Aedan—“if you’re out of practice, I find a bit more of this helps.” To illustrate, she took a long glug, then offered it to Knigh.

He nodded slowly and took it, drinking long and deep. When he’d finished, he licked his lips and raised his eyebrows as if asking what next.

“Jacket off, too.”

He handed her the bottle and obeyed, folding it carefully in half.

She snorted and shook her head, then grabbed it and threw it on a nearby rock.

Chest rising, he opened his mouth as if to argue, but instead, he just exhaled and nodded. “Anything else?”

Grinning, she thrust the bottle at Aedan as he passed. “And dancing—always dancing.” She offered Knigh her hand, one eyebrow raised.