“Mm.” He grinned back. “Probably unwise to put every paper in the house to a flame to test it. I don’t fancy burning up everything—that’s what happened last time I tried such a trick.” And his mother hadn’t been exactly pleased with him when he’d dropped the candle in shock and burned a hole in her favorite tablecloth either.

“You’ve used invisible ink?”

At the note of pleasant wonder in her voice, Oliver’s grin grew. “With Beth and our brother, Morgan. We were pretending we were pirate princes—and princess—evading our archnemesis in port.”

Her frown twitched a bit at the word princess, but she banished it with a wistful smile. “What fun you must have had.”

Why the wistfulness? “You’ve a sister, haven’t you? And a brother, of course.”

And like pollen on the breeze, her wonder blew right off her face. “Edith never liked the same games I did. Nor, for that matter, did Bram. They played together, but I was always left behind, it seemed.”

Mother never let him and Morgan get away with neglecting Beth—try as they might. “And so you went outside and made a friend of nature instead.”

The way she blinked up at him, clearing the memories from her eyes, said his observation startled her—at least for a moment. Then she relaxed again, even smiling. “I suppose I did. Well.” As if finally realizing how close to him she sat, she scooted away and motioned to a few other items on the table. “I haven’t yet had time to go through all these, but I found them in my room with the other things. I thought at first they were just part of the furnishings, but are they your sister’s?”

Glancing over the collection of papers and books, he could only say the truth. “I have no idea.” Before he could suggest they thumb through it all together, the door gusted open.

And the wind herself blew in.

6

Mabena blew inside with a stiff sea breeze that had won the battle with a few of her hairpins. She summoned a laugh to her lips, ready to deliver it on cue to Libby, if she were inside, though it was entirely possible she was out enjoying the afternoon on the island.

The laughter died on her lips when her quick scan delivered not only Libby on the sofa, but Oliver Tremayne himself. She pushed shut the door and mentally scrambled for what she meant to say—to each of them together, and separately. She’d thought she’d have another day or two to decide on what story to give them both. But here they were.

“Mr. Tremayne. What a pleasant surprise.”