“I’d normally do this with no clothes,” she said, dumping her belt and weapons by the log, “but I don’t want you keeling over, so I’ll keep my shirt on, even if it drags in the water.” She flashed him a grin, then kicked off her boots, unbuttoned her breeches and slipped them off. The hem of her shirt reached mid-thigh, so he couldn’t complain that she looked too indecent.

He scoffed as he placed the canteen with her belongings. “Your concern for my wellbeing is noted.”

“Knighton, was that a joke?”

He shrugged. “Almost.” Looking out to sea, he tugged his shirt off.

Muscle corded his shoulders and arms, rippled across his stomach, and curved over his chest, taut and—

Well, that wasn’t fair. Her mouth went dry, and her heartbeat sped.

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” He raised his eyebrows, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

Blinking, she rubbed her nose and turned away. Well, it was rude to be quite that … She swallowed. Delicious-looking? Tempting? Off-limits? Yes, all of those.

She cleared her throat, grabbed a net bag, and started towards the surf lapping on the shore.

Her hands clenched at her sides. She couldn’t think about how he’d feel under her touch. That wouldn’t help anything because he was forbidden.

Or was he? Technically, they were on the same side now … And if he were willing, would a little tumble really be so bad? It was just bodies meeting and enjoying each other.

With Knigh being Navy, FitzRoy would leave him alone—he couldn’t risk his pardon by killing an officer of the Queen’s Navy. Knigh would be safe, unlike poor Aedan.

It was the willing bit that was the problem. She’d managed to get a physical reaction from him, yes, but getting his stiff mind to relax—that was never going to happen. Staid, straight-laced Knighton Blackwood wouldn’t succumb, however tempted.

So, no, she shouldn’t think about how firm that chest had been through his clothes when she’d searched him or in Waters’ book shop. Nor how it would feel without the barrier of shirt and waistcoat, with the friction of flesh on flesh. She definitely wasn’t going to think about sliding her hands up the perfect angle slanting from his waist to his powerful shoulders. Or those bulging arms wrapping around her, lifting her—

Wild bloody Hunt, she needed to get into that water.

She glanced over her shoulder, just enough to check he followed. He was a couple of feet away, within arm’s length. She adjusted the bag crossing her body to keep her hands from any temptation to reach across that small distance.