At least he thought it was. He fought to keep his mouth from dropping open at her transformation.Damn it, Samantha. Clearly she’d had a hand in this, as Miss Montclair stood in tight breeches, her blouse open in a deep V down her chest. Her hair fell in voluminous curls past her shoulder with a red canna lily tucked behind one ear.
“What the hell are you doing here? And why are you dressed like that?” He kept his eyes on her face to avoid the cleavage on full display.
“I was looking for you,” she said brightly. As if it explained everything.
“My God, Miss Montclair, you could have been hurt.”
Or worse. The men who had been harassing her had made their intentions clear. He shook his head to clear his mind.
“I didn’t know there would be more than one tavern.” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “I thought you’d be inside. I washalfway through the room before I realized you weren’t there.”
“Do you ever stop to think things through?”
Her eyes widened at his accusation, but instead of lingering, the hurt quickly faded. She crossed her arms and opened her mouth.
He raised a hand to stop her rebuttal. “Never mind. Let’s get back to the ship.”
“No.”
“No?” He blinked at her.
“I came to help you.”
“You…” He couldn’t help his strangled laugh. “Help me? Dressed like that?”
Her eyes narrowed into slits. “Yes, Lieutenant. Because while your mind cannot seem to fathom it, I assure you I am better equipped than you to get information from these sorts of men.”
“Really? You could have fooled me. Because last I checked, you were about to get…” He couldn’t say it aloud.
Her face paled yet she stood straight. “Nevertheless, once inside a tavern, I can find what you need.”
“Miss Montclair—”
She turned and walked away. Straight to the tavern door.
“Don’t even think about it.” He strode toward her.
With flashing eyes, she yanked the door open and walked inside.
“Blast it.” He hurried to catch up, weaving between patrons before reaching her side. Taking hold of her elbow, he pulled her close. “You’ve got a lot of nerve.”
She beamed up at him. “Thanks. Now, stop looking so… murderous. You’ll blow our cover.”
“Cover? Miss Montclair, hear me well. There’s no cover. We are going to turn around and head straight back to the ship.”
With a shake of her head, she flipped her hair over one shoulder and turned toward the bar, a wave of jasmine washing over him. He followed, refusing to loosen his grip on her. When they reached thetall wood counter, she lifted herself on tiptoes and leaned into him, the soft weight of her hair settling on his forearm. “We are here, don’t waste the opportunity to get your information.”
He swallowed as a shot of desire hammered through his frustration. Every nerve in him screamed against it—and yet… She was right. By the time he got her back to the ship and returned, many of these men would be gone. He sighed. “Alright. But let me do the talking.”
With a shrug, she lowered herself back to her feet but stayed pressed to his side. The barkeep arrived before he had the sense to take a step to the side to relieve the burning heat coming from where their arms touched.
He shook his head.Get it together.
“I’m looking for information about a pir—” A sharp jab came from his ribs. He rubbed the spot where she’d elbowed him and lowered his voice to a whisper. “What was that for?”
She ignored him and leaned over the counter. He followed the barkeep’s gaze and bit back a curse at the perfect view of cleavage she’d offered the man. “What my…” she slanted him a glance. “Partner was trying to say is, he’d like two mugs of your finest ale.”
“I was n—” She stomped on his foot and he coughed. What was she up to? “I mean… Yes, I was.”
