She nodded and he dropped his hand, settling it low on her back. His fingers splayed wide, holding her away from the moss-covered bricks behind her. Which meant the entirety of her front rested against him. Her cheek rested on his chest, where the steady thrum of his heart reverberated through her. Though her stomach had gone knotted, heat crawled up her neck. His sandalwood scent filled the space between them, and with each measured breath she took, her panic began to ebb.
After a tense minute passed, his muscles slackened and he twisted his face toward hers. His lips grazed her ear and for a moment, she couldn’t move. Her fingers curled in his shirt. When had they gotten there?
“I must have been mistaken.” His voice came in a low whisper against her skin. “There’s no one. Let’s go.”
Still, when they edged from between the buildings, he kept his head down and retraced their steps back to the nearest street. They cut across it, moving with purpose, and a few blocks later, he pointed ahead. “The courthouse. If there’s any old maps of the city, they will have them.”
The building loomed before them with columned porticos framing an arched doorway, their white stone contrasting against warm brick.
They entered, the soft jingle of a bell announcing their arrival. It took Josephine’s eyes a moment to adjust to the dimness, the only light coming from a few flickering lanterns along the walls. She sniffed, pulling her nose up at the eclectic scent of old paper, beeswax, and mildew. Tall shelves lined the walls and jutted out in several rows across the floor, their weighty contents sagging the wood. A large central table bore ink spills, strewn with haphazard stacks of documents waiting to be sorted. In the corner, a writing desk sat beneath a small, clouded window that let in a sickly shaft of afternoon light.
A young clerk sat at the desk, his quill scratching away at his paper. He glanced at the clock, then back to his work. “We’re only open for another half hour.”
The lieutenant approached him. “Lieutenant Isaac Caldwell. Do you have any maps of the city before the great fire?”
“If we do, they will be in the records room.” Without looking up from his writing, the clerk frowned. “Why don’t you look in the naval archives?”
“The courthouse was closer and time is of the essence.”
After a long sigh, the clerk dropped his quill and stood. “Very well.” He opened a drawer and pulled a key out. “Only one person is allowed in at a time, and no women.”
Lieutenant Caldwell straightened. “Certainly, an exception can be made.”
The man stared at him as if he’d suggested treason. “Rules are not made to be broken. If that’s not satisfactory to you, feel free to make the trip to the naval yard to do your research.”
A muscle ticced along the lieutenant’s jaw, but he nodded. “Very well.” He turned to Josephine. “Will you be alright?”
She set a hand on his forearm, ignoring the instant burst of heat the touch sent through her. “Of course. I’ll see if I can find anything helpful out here.”
The clerk walked him over to the records room, leaving Josephinealone. She swiveled and meandered to a row of bookshelves in the back packed with leather-bound ledgers, bundled papers tied with string, and wooden document boxes. She pulled her key free and rubbed a thumb over it. Who was she fooling? With no clues about its origin, she had no idea where she would look for any information that could help in the slightest. Not like the courthouse would have a ledger of most wanted pirate artifacts.
With a sigh, she tucked the key back and ran a hand across a stack of land grants. She turned toward the records room. A bench sat beneath a small window looking into it. May as well wait there.
As she started over, the bell rang again. A man entered, his hat pulled low. She frowned. Something about him pricked familiar. He spoke to the clerk, voice too hushed for her to make out. Satisfied with whatever the clerk had told him, he adjusted his hat and for a fleeting second, his face caught the light. Her blood chilled as she recognized Burke, the shipwrecked sailor.
Samantha’s warning about trusting him rang like an alarm in Josephine’s head as his gaze swept the room. She dropped to the floor and shimmied back between two bookshelves, heart slamming against her ribs. Why was he here? Worse, had he seen her? With mind racing, she straightened and found a gap between two stacks of papers. Holding her breath, she peered through.
He was gone.
She sucked in a breath.Don’t panic. The ship Thorne had sunk had come from here. This could be his home. It could be as simple as a friend or family member that worked in the library. Her breathing slowed. Still, she stayed put. After their altercation earlier on deck, she wasn’t taking any chances.
Click.
The echo of a boot heel struck the wood floor just on the other side of the bookshelf she hid behind.
Click.
She held her breath as he stopped directly opposite her. He coughed, and the ledgers near her face shifted as he adjusted them. Her throat went dry. If he pulled them free, he would see her. After an agonizing moment, he started walking again. Though her muscles slackened, she stayed perfectly still, her chest squeezing. Once he made it to the end of the aisle, one single step would put her in his line of sight. Slowly, she backed up, until she reached the end of the bookcase. She would have to time it perfectly.
With heart pounding, she waited until his shadow fell into her aisle, then eased herself around the back of the shelf, into the aisle he’d just left. It worked. Her breath rushed out as a tremor wracked her body.
Burke approached the window of the records room and peered inside. He didn’t move. He simply stood there—watching. Waiting. She narrowed her eyes. Why was he snooping on the lieutenant? He lingered a moment longer, his posture too still, too focused. Then, with a final glance toward the clerk, he turned and strode out the door.
Only when the bell jingled again did Josephine let out the breath she’d been holding. She waited—counted to ten, then twenty—before she stepped into the open, heart still thudding in her throat. Burke hadn’t seen her. But the unease remained, curling cold and tight in her belly.
The door to the records room creaked open. Isaac emerged with a triumphant glint in his eye. He strode across the room and caught her elbow, leaning in with a whisper.
“You were right. After the fire, some of the streets that had been named after British roads were renamed. Queen Street is now Church Street.” He hurried toward the door. “And, it was in an area of town unscathed by the fire.”
