“Aye,” she sighed. “We were watching a pair of pelicans fish alongside the ship. I leaned too far over the edge and would have tumbled overboard if he hadnae grabbed me. He said it was obvious I wasnae male.”
Kieran pinched the bridge of his nose. He was almost afraid to ask. “Rafe?”
“He got too close when showing me how to properly dislodge an opponent’s rapier.”
“Anyone else?”
She shook her head.
Silence.
“So . . . in summation . . . you’ve been terrible at keeping your sex a secret.” Kieran folded his arms.
As usual, his glacial stare and stern expression had no discernible effect on her.
“Nae, we simply have observant friends,” she countered. “Youdidn’t realize I was female—”
“Logic dictates that it’s only a matter of time before everyone aboard this ship knows.”
“I think ye are wrong there. The Brotherhood has already begun tae help me hide my sex. Mr. Chen, too. If my friends stand by me—asIwill stand by them—then all will be well.”
“Perhaps.” Kieran frowned, hating the logic in her words. “Regardless, nothing can be done until we reach Rio. Until then, I shall ponder all options.”
She studied him.
The ship rocked. Somewhere, a cow lowed. Sailors called to each other on the deck above their heads.
“Ye willnae send me home,” she finally said. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“We shall see, Miss Fyffe—”
“I’m Jamie now.” She pushed to her feet and turned for the door. “Ye best remember it.”
She left his cabin with a boyish toss of her head, shutting the door with a resounding clack.
8
And that is all you remember, Miss Fyffe?” Mr. Patterson—the procurator fiscal—pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. The glasses promptly slid down again. “Nothing at all aboard ship?”
Mr. Patterson shuffled papers atop the hastily-placed gate-leg table before him, marking something with a pencil.
“No, nothing beyond the brief memories I mentioned of Dr. Whit—ehr, Lord Lockheade,” Jamie replied, shooting Alex an apologetic look. “I have no memory of anything that led up to the sinking ofThe Minerva.”
Kieran’s leg bounced as Mr. Patterson questioned Jamie.
Eilidh.
Miss Fyffe.
Hiswife.
Jamie sat isolated in a chair in the center of the room, hands fisted in her lap, all of her looking so small and alone. She had always been short and petite, but without the fire of Jamie animating her, she had somehow shrunk.
Kieran had thought that after that first meeting between them, things would improve. That she would slowly begin to remember. That her icy distrust and seeming revulsion of him would ease.
But if anything, after the passage of nearly thirty-odd hours, she was even more withdrawn. All of her Miss Eilidh Fyffe.
It was as if no trace of his Jamie remained.
