“See that you do.” The earl turned back to the officers observing the exchange and scoffed. “Really, how hard is it to find a waistcoat?”
Heather ignored the murmured responses from the officers as her pulse skipped and her thoughts whirled.The hold. Of course! How foolish of her to not consider it before now. The earl had packed crates, casks, and trunks full of his nonsense—far too much for just one frigate to hold. That was precisely where she must look.
Nearly every oneof Percy’s muscles burned. It had been years since he had manned the lines on a ship, and his body was making its feelings known. He swallowed the last of his watery grog and leaned his elbows on the table.
The sailors around him broke their fast, talked, and joked with one another, some eyeing the earl’s two maids as they ate. And Percy waited. He wanted another opportunity to talk to Heather, to sort out his feelings about the woman he’d come to know in London and the woman whose body he’d learned so intimately…
It was as though he’d never trulyseenher before that night. He’d known her, of course, and hadfeltthings, but she’d been his student and entirely off-limits. Now he was beguiled and wanted to learn more about her.
The door to the wardroom swung open, and Percy’s breath froze as Heather’s gaze caught his. She lifted a brow and notched her chin upward before ascending to the gun deck.She has information.
Percy hastily cleared the table and followed Heather up to the bustling quarterdeck. Men darted about, most beginning their shift, while some withdrew for their turn to sleep.
He spotted Heather at the taffrail. Her chignon was windswept, just as wild and unpredictable as the woman herself.
With a grin—and decidedly more nervous fluttering in his gut—Percy strode over to rest his forearms next to hers, gazing out at the seemingly infinite ocean. The early morning sun heated him through his uniform, the warmth gratefully broken by the steady, cooling wind. The ocean splashed as they glided through the water, and for a moment the salt air consumed him.
“Good morning,” he murmured.
“Mmm,” she hummed. “Is it?”
She cast him a sideways glance, one brow lifted, and her lips quirked in a fucking delicious grin.
She huffed a laugh. “Thehold, Percy. I don’t know why I hadn’t considered it before, but it makes perfect sense that the earl would store any damning evidence there. No doubt he assumes that no one would willingly suffer the inconvenience of searching through a plethora of excess to happen upon his dastardly dealings.”
Percy returned her grin. “He is wrong on that score.”
“Indeed, he is. Are you up for the challenge?”
His pulse quickened. “Always. Shall we?”
He moved to push away from the taffrail, but Heather stopped him with a touch. Sparks of desire raced up his arm, through his centre, and straight to his cock.Sweet fuck. He bit back a groan. The woman had the ability to render him hard at a simple touch.
Damn. Hereallyought to tell her about their tryst. But how?
Heather cleared her throat and dropped her hand to her side, fisting it in the material of her pretty green frock. “The earl’s valet is down there”—she swallowed and cleared her throat once more—“searching for one of the earl’s waistcoats. We must wait until he resurfaces.”
His gaze held hers as her cheeks flushed with a warmth that he longed to touch. “Then we wait.”
“This is one of his,”Percy grunted, sliding a chest toward Heather.
The gentle glow of candlelight flickered over his striking profile, and Heather’s gut swooped. Whether it was from her fear of the fire or these inopportune feelings for Percy, she didn’t know. Regardless of the reason, it ought to stop. Oughtn’t it?
Her initial uneasiness aside, they’d slipped into the hold without drawing a single glance askance. The earl had shouted himself hoarse and promptly taken a nap, while his staff took some much-needed respite and the seamen went about their duties. No one looked, no one cared—not while the earl was asleep.
She huffed a breath and stretched her arms above her head in an effort to dispel the tightness in her shoulders. They’d been searching through the Earl of Shite’s effects for nearly three quarters of an hour and had found naught but some entirely repulsive literature.
She would grant that it would not seem so repugnant—in fact, she might have enjoyed it for some light reading—if not for the awareness that it was theearl’s. Another shiver of revulsion raced down her spine.
Percy laughed, the low, husky sound echoing in the close confines of the frigate’s hold. “Youmuststop thinking about it, Heather. You’ll give yourself the headache.”
She frowned at him, despite the buzz of awareness humming through her middle. “I’m trying, blast it!”
He laughed again and opened another crate to inspect its contents. Heather did the same, lifting a lid and gazing inside. It was full of hessians, brushes, and cloths. She rolled her eyes.
“How many boots could a man need on a voyage to the Americas in the summer?” she murmured, tracing her fingers along the seams of the trunk’s inner lining.
There was a loose thread, and she picked at it.
