“I stole this from Ned some years ago. I thought he was too obsessed with the ghost of a woman he’d only met once. I didn’t understand at the time. She’s magnificent, to be sure, but you are—” He regarded her with an almost professional interest. “If I may say so, your beauty is more considerate.”

“Er,” Cecilia said. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome. Would you like the ring?” He held it out.

Cecilia shook her head hastily. “No, I have my locket . . . and a portrait in my bedroom . . . and a sketch . . . and an embroidered likeness in a frame.”

“Goodness,” he murmured, returning the ring to his thumb. “So are you going to marry Lightbourne?”

“What?” She was so startled she almost shouted the question. “Certainly not! Why on earth would you ask that?”

He shrugged. “No reason. Except I’ve known you for ten minutes, and for a lot of that time you’ve been touching each other. Even now, he’s caressing you with his eyes.”

“He is not,” Cecilia retorted, and glanced across the room at Ned. He stood with Frederick, teaching him to make a weapon from silver toothpicks and knotted ribbons, but his attention was not on Frederick’s bewildered efforts. He stared at Cecilia with a heat that made her immediately blush. She looked away, saw Alex’s sardonic expression, and scowled.

“He’s an idiot.”

“He is,” Alex agreed. “And if you hurt him, I will be most displeased indeed.”

He left before she could reply. Frowning after him, she happened to rest her gaze, purely by chance, on Ned once more. She watched him slide a gold fob watch from Frederick’s coat pocket, and her pulse flickered in unusual places within her body.

He had kissed her twice now. Outrageous! Indefensible! Would he kiss her in the sunlight next time? My goodness, she hoped not! Would he hold her close, his hand stroking her back as if she was something to be handled with care, cherished? Heaven forbid!

She clutched her little childhood knife so fiercely that her fingernails dug into the palm of her hand. Life had been much more tranquil before that nom-de-plumed pirate barged his way in. Well, there had been escapades, heists, assassins, ghastly memories to repress, tea parties, tigers, and the lingering thought of her father out there somewhere haunting her sense of justice. But there had been none of these smiles.

Once this Morvath business was over, Cecilia intended to collect a stack of books and lock herself in her sitting room until Captain Lightbourne went away.

Was he still watching her? Uncouth rogue! She glanced over, and he winked at her, and she snapped her gaze back to the corridor with such speed she saw stars.

Felt stars beneath her heart.

“Tally ho,” someone whispered. Cecilia turned with relief to see the pirates were finally armed and ready. She checked the corridor both ways, listened a moment, then indicated it was safe for them to proceed.