Kieran turned to glare at her.
“Please continue.” She clasped her hands under her chin and batted her eyelashes at him. “Iadoreit when men blether on about me like I’m not in the room.”
Ewan chuckled, scraping more ragout out of the earthenware bowl and onto his plate. “You’re not going to win this one, Kieran.”
Glowering, Kieran slumped back in his seat. He ran a hand over his face. “This is a disaster.”
“It’ll come right,” Rafe said.
“Quit your whinging,” Andrew nodded. “We will see Jamie through.”
“Aye,” Alex agreed.
“I must say, I didnae take ye for the worrying sort, Kieran,” Jamie piped in. “I always thought ye were morecarpe diemthan a strict advocate of law and order. Why does this have ye twisted into knots?”
Kieran shot her his sternest I-am-master-of-this-ship look.
She, of course, remained utterly unperturbed. She simply poured herself more ale from the pitcher, leaned back in her chair, and propped a booted foot on the cabin door.
She met his gaze squarely.
A frisson of . . . something . . . passed between them.
The spark was as surprising as it was unwelcome.
She wasn’t wrong.
Hewastied into knots.
Just not in the way she supposed.
“I am thorough in my work,” he replied. “Ignorant sailors can easily end up dead sailors. I would prefer it if no one dies on my watch.”
“Well, I shall try not to let my gender kill anyone,” Jamie deadpanned, drinking her ale with rather irritating calm.
The rest of the Brotherhood laughed.
Kieran knew he should be irritated with her. He should find her attitude cavalier and her manners obnoxious.
It was just . . .
Her silvery eyes sparkled like sunlight shimmering on a summer’s day as she spoke. Her voice fair vibrated withjoie de vivre.
Such charm was nearly impossible to withstand.
Kieran shook his head and, to his endless frustration, . . .smiled.
He had no business developing a tendre for this woman. It would be a disaster in more ways than he could quickly count.
But . . . it was hard to cast the image of her bathing from his mind, the expanse of creamy skin, the delicate arch of her spine. He was a man, was he not? Images of half-naked women had a tendency to stick.
Though if his attraction to her had been merely physical, eventhathe could have easily mastered.
No . . . it was the fire of her that drew him in. The sense that she would always meet him as an equal.
Perhaps sensing his thoughts, she paused, her gaze tangling a bit too long with his.
He smiled wider, perhaps a smidge challenging now.
