Amarantha was packing her traveling trunk yet again when Libby Shaw came into her bedchamber.

“You must not marry Thomas Bellarmine.”

“Libby! I thought you still at Haiknayes.”

“When everybody arrived there, and Papa and I heard the news of foolish Cynthia’s ridiculous elopement, we thought it would be best to take ourselves out of the way before Mrs. Tate began screaming. Again. You were good to leave a message for me and Papa at the house in Leith so that we would know you had come here, but now Mr. Brock is downstairs and he has told me of your plan to marry Mr. Bellarmine and I cannot fathom it. Amarantha, the duke quite obviously admires you—a lot—and you like him too. Even I can see that, and I usually don’t notice such things, at least that is what Cynthia always says. Anyway, I hope you will reconsider.”

“Mr. Brock is here? In this house now?”

“He came in after me. He is talking with Saint. It seems he was acquainted with Saint’s brother in Jamaica. Constance is strolling down the block with the Lord Advocate’s wife.”

With an hour yet till she was required to be at the church, Amarantha still wore the plain gown in which she had walked through the park at dawn in another futile attempt to walk away her misery. But she went swiftly down the stairs.

“Mrs. Garland,” Jonah said, moving across the foyer as she descended. “I must speak with you. In private.”

She went into the drawing room.

He closed the door and said, “He has done the unthinkable.” He blinked hard several times. “I still cannot—I cannot believe what he has done.”

“Mr. Tate?”

“My cousin. Gabriel has deeded Haiknayes to me, the entire estate. And the property here in Edinburgh as well.”

“But—Why would he do such a thing?”

“Tate said—”

“Tate? You have spoken with him today?”

“I went over there hoping to make him see reason. I have in the past consorted with unscrupulous scoundrels, Mrs. Garland. I intended to warn him against attempting blackmail. I had little real hope of changing his course but I could not allow you and Bellarmine to take him on alone. But I found him in high good humor. Mrs. Garland, my cousin has made a vow to Tate that he will not defend himself against any accusations of villainy, concerning Cynthia or any other girl. And to prove this vow, he has given Haiknayes to me with the promise to Tate that I—” He seemed to recoil a bit. “That I will marry Miss Jane Tate.”

Amarantha’s knees were unsteady. She lowered herself onto a chair.

“I do not understand my cousin’s mind,” he said. “He is a far finer man than I. But I do know that Tate will not be satisfied with this. If I were to wed Jane Tate, the moment it was done Tate would renege on his word and publicly accuse Gabriel of villainy.”

“Then you must return to Kallin. You must find Cynthia Tate and bring her here immediately. And I will go to Mr. Tate now and extract a promise of his good faith.”

“How? What promise will suffice from a man of no moral character?”

A lifelong familial connection to an English earl, and her father’s obliging purse.

“It will buy us time until the Duke of Read arrives and can offer his aid. And influence.”

Jonah nodded, but his face was still drawn and he made no move to leave.

“Why do you hesitate?” she said. “You must depart for Kallin at once.”

“My hesitation—My hesitation is not in that. It is that I am not worthy of Haiknayes. I am unfit to be its master. For nearly five years I barely managed to hold Gregory’s plantation together, and it was a far smaller estate. More importantly, my cousin loves that land and that damn fortress more than even he knows. I cannot take it from him.”

“It seems to me that you haven’t any choice.”

“But that isn’t all,” he said, his fingers crushing his hat brim. “Mrs. Garland—Amarantha—I cannot marry Jane Tate. It would not be fair to her, nor to—” His throat worked.

“To whom?”

“However lovely I find Miss Tate, and however gratified I am by her admiration, I am not yet healed of—of the heart broken by—by another woman’s death.” His voice scraped over the words. “A woman I loved more than I imagined I could ever love anyone.”

“Your mistress, Charlotte?”

He shook his head. “No, though God knows I deserve every misery now for having used her as I did.”

“Then who?”

His face was stark. “My wife.”

“You were married?”

“For three short months before she sent me away.”

“Sent you away?”

“She was ashamed of me, Amarantha. Ashamed of the man I had been and even more ashamed, I think, of her attachment to me.”

“I am sorry, Mr. Brock, for your loss and for your unhappiness now.”

He made a sound of hard, hopeless laughter. “You offer your condolences to the thief who stole your happiness years ago?”

“Years ago. While your grief is obviously still fresh. When did your wife perish?”

“Last summer,” he said, his blue eyes empty now. “But I only learned of it at Kallin. Until then, I had thought her well and still in Jamaica.”

“At Kallin?”

“I overheard you speaking of it.”

Understanding came swiftly.

“Penny,” she gasped.

“Yes.”

The single syllable abruptly made everything clear.

“You and—Penny. You became acquainted with her through my husband, didn’t you?”

“He cared nothing for her. But she cared for him. When she learned that a man of my stained reputation was meeting him, she came to me to tell me to leave him be. After that”—he looked down at the floor—“she came only for me. Despite herself.”

“You married her? But she was—”

“Remarkable. Beautiful. Extraordinary. And strong willed. She would not have me without the vows.”

Amarantha’s heartbeats came painfully.

No’ until you are no other man’s.

Tears caught in her throat.

“Yet she parted from you,” she said.

“I took passage eastward until my funds ran dry. I did not know what my destination would be. I barely even recall where I went or what I did. I’d no idea she had left Jamaica. When I discovered you at Haiknayes, I longed to ask you about her.”

“She came to Scotland looking for you.”

“For me?”

“I believe that when she could find no trace of you here, she attempted to find your cousin.”

“She sent me away. I never imagined she might come after me.” He clamped his eyes shut. “And if he weren’t so elusive, she might have found him.”

“Mr. Brock, Penny had good reason to search for you. You have a son.”

All the pride and self-derision slipped away from his features. “A son?” he said very quietly.

“He is on a farm not far from Kallin, with the family who took Penny in and where I found her after months of searching for her. She had left Kingston without warning or explanation, and I feared for her safety. When I discovered her, I discovered him too. Your son is safe and well.”

“Amarantha.” Tears slid down his handsome face. “Thank you.”

“Do not thank me. I did not do it for you. I think perhaps that I did not even do it for Penny. Mr. Brock, we must hurry now and do whatever necessary to save the most obstinately generous man in the world. For he is about to make a sacrifice of himself for all of us.”

“The lading papers, Tate. Accurate to an ounce.” Gabriel put the stamped documents into the merchant’s outstretched hand. “You’ll have no trouble with the customs house in Bridgetown. An’ if by chance you do, give them the assurance that I stand behind it. They willna know yet that I’m gone, o’ course,” he said more acidly than he intended. But a man was bound to let slip a snarl or two when he was agreeing to his own exile.

“Ha ha! If the cargos o’ these vessels net what they should, lad, you might escape the noose yet.” He had the gall to chuckle.

“Aye. Now, as you dinna own this ship, I’ll be asking you to disembark so I can make ready to sail.”

Tate tucked the documents into his coat. Patting them to his chest in satisfaction, he glanced about the stateroom. The night before, Gabriel had dismissed the shipmaster. He’d no money to pay the man, and he could sail the damn brig to perdition himself.

“Do you know what convinced me to let you keep this little beauty?” Tate said. “Brock’s promise to hand over to me half the annual income o’ Haiknayes.”

“He’ll no’ inherit, Tate, till the powers that be see my corpse.”

“No need to hurry that along, lad. No’ unless Mr. Brock gives me trouble.” He strode to the door, chuckling. “Aye, ’twill be a banner year for Tate Mercantile.” He mounted the causeway to the main deck.

“Uncle!” Thomas Bellarmine came running from the quay. “There you are! I went to the customs office and the fellow there told me—Loch Irvine?” He skidded to a halt and sketched an awkward bow. “How do you?”

“No need for pretty manners, nephew. His Grace is my man now.”

“Your—?” Bellarmine looked between them. “I don’t understand. What has happened?”

“Bellarmine,” Gabriel said, “I’m on a tight schedule. The harbormaster’s given me a three o’clock departure an’ I’ve a crew to collect from the pubs before then, and provisions to take on, so I’m a busy man at present. That, an’ I’ve had enough o’ your uncle for—well—for the remainder o’ my life, however brief ’tis likely to be. Get him off my ship.”

“There he is!” Iris Tate scampered up the gangway. “Duke! We’ve looked all over town for you! But Libby and the doctor don’t know your address here and Mr. Brock said nobody at the Mariner’s Club had seen you in weeks and—” She stumbled to a halt, frowned, and crossed her arms tight. “Papa,” she spat. Then she swiveled around and ran back to the rail. “He’s here! They’re both here!”

A moment later Amarantha was ascending the ramp and boarding his ship and Gabriel felt the oddest sensation of history ending and beginning again at once.

She had never come aboard the Theia. He had invited her to tour his ship many times. She had always declined, holding firmly to the separation of their realities beyond the hospital.

Now she came to him and stood not two feet away and lifted her beautiful eyes to him. Her hair, tied in a ribbon, was in disarray, her cheeks were pink beneath the damp gray sky, and her gown was plain and creased. She was a heaven of haphazard beauty and it required every ounce of his self-restraint not to grab her and kiss her.

“Lass,” he said with a ridiculously thick tongue. “I imagined you on the way to the altar by now. What are you doing here?”

“Obviously not going through with our plan to rescue you from the noose, which you have made obsolete.”

Relief was so thorough he made a sound—a sigh, a grunt. He was a beast in truth.

“’Twas a poorly conceived plan,” he finally managed. “Truly.”

Spots of crimson leaped onto her cheeks. “Yes, well, desperate times . . .”

“You’ve come to kiss me goodbye, an’ I’ll no’ refuse that.” He grinned his scoundrel’s grin. “But first, I’ve a word to say to you.” He moved close to her and his head got full of her scent and her eyes were bright and by God he wouldn’t leave without touching her again. He clasped her hand and heard her little intake of air. Her fingers were cold and trembling. He spoke quietly. “I’ve sent word to Du Lac that if anyone is in trouble beyond which Mary Tarry can assist, they’re to contact you.”

Her face jerked up. Her lips were within easy kissing distance now.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I’d rather no’ have put you in the way o’ the blackguard’s notice”—he cast a glance toward Tate—“but you are the only person I trust, an’ you’ve family to protect you if—”

“No. You needn’t do this, because you are not going anywhere.”

He entwined their fingers and brought them against his chest.

“Lass, I knew this would happen someday. I’ve expected it. ’Tis true I’d wished to delay it as long as possible. An’ I’d hoped to have assurance that you would be—” His damn throat closed. Best that way, though. If he told her about the pact, she’d think him madder than she already did.

“No,” she repeated. “You are not leaving.”

He breathed in deeply, simply to smell her and the sea at once.

“Now,” he said, lifting her hand. “For that goodbye kiss.” Bending his head he touched his lips to her knuckles.

She snatched her hand away. “You will not kiss me goodbye.”

Abruptly he was aware of a cluster of people, none of them sailors, gathering on his deck: Iris Tate, Alice Campbell, Libby Shaw, the doctor, Mrs. Aiken, and Jane Tate.

Jonah came forward through the crowd.

“Gabriel, you mustn’t agree to any of Tate’s demands,” he said. “If he goes to the police with false tales, Dr. Shaw and I will stand as character witnesses for you, and I’m certain Bellarmine will as well.”

“Of course!” Bellarmine said.

“I’ll send you straight to jail, nephew,” Tate said.

“Not without implicating yourself,” Bellarmine retorted. “I’ll do it, too, if you continue this wicked crusade against him. It’s the honorable thing to do.” Thomas glanced at the others, his gaze resting for a moment on Mrs. Aiken.

“The Duke of Read is en route from London,” Jonah said, “as well as the Earl of Vale and his son-in-law, Lord Egremoor.”

“Ha ha!” Tate laughed as he strolled toward the rail. “’Twill be a festival o’ nobles. The more the merrier, I say, to hear the proof I’ve gotten o’ the Duke o’ Loch Irvine’s diabolical deeds!” He spoke at booming volume. On the quay, a pair of passersby paused to listen.

“Lass,” Gabriel said softly, bending his head to her again. “Only you know the reason Jonah mustna do this, so only you can halt it.”

“We will find another way.”

His eyes were beautiful, dark and confident.

“I dinna need protecting. A man like me never does. They do.” He turned from her. “Now, everybody, I’ll be setting the sails shortly. So unless you’ve business in the East Indies, you’d best disembark. Miss Shaw, thank you for your work on my father’s collection. Jonah, you’ve an estate to see to. Bellarmine, mind your own business. Tate, I’ll see you in Hell.” He bowed. “Good day, all.”

With a smile to her that carved a hollow in Amarantha’s insides, he strode toward the gangplank and down to the quay.

A hackney coach clattered to a halt beside the ship. Cynthia Tate hurled herself out of it and fell against the duke’s chest.

“I am here!” she cried, righting herself with the assistance of his big hands and shaking out skirts of fluffy yellow tulle. “I am here!” she shouted again, twirling in a circle and shouting yet again to the passersby, “See, I am here! I am well! I haven’t even a scratch on me!”

Gabriel ran his palm over his face.

“Lass,” he said. “I told you to—”

“To remain at the inn, I know!” she said. “And Mickey did try to convince me to obey.” She giggled and extended her hand to the young man climbing out of the coach. He wore white breeches, a white waistcoat, and the blue coat and black hat of a naval officer. “But I’m afraid that we married women are simply too headstrong and determined to heed instructions when other people’s lives are at stake. Especially if those other people are our own personal hero.” She smiled up at the duke. “Isn’t that right, Mickey?”

“Aye.” With a shy smile he glanced at the people on deck.

“Cynthia Tate,” Alice exclaimed. “Is that a smile, child?”

“It is Cynthia Pyle now,” she said, pulling Mick up the gangway. “And I am not a child. I am a Mrs.!” She extended her hand to display a pretty gold ring then turned another brilliant smile toward the duke, who was mounting the deck. “Thanks to His Grace.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Mr. Tate demanded. “Loch Irvine, what sort o’ man hoists a poor girl he’s abducted onto his servant when he’s through with her?”

“No one abducted me!” Cynthia cried for the crowd gathering on the dock below. “In fact, after Mickey and I eloped, His Grace very kindly found us where we had got lost on the road. Then he hired an exceedingly comfortable carriage for our return to Kallin, and then he saw to our wedding. It was ever so cozy! Dear Jane, darling Iris, I was devastated that you could not be there to hear my Mickey say his vows to me, and Reverend Clacher pronounce us man and wife. It was exquisitely romantic.”

Iris rolled her eyes.

Jane kissed Cynthia on the cheek.

“I am happy for you.” She smiled at Mick. “For both of you.”

“Tate,” Mr. Brock said, “here is proof that your accusations against my cousin are false. Are you prepared to withdraw your threats now?”

Mr. Tate’s jowls flared with a heavy exhale. “I’ve still a fine story to tell the newspapers about the duke’s little nest o’ birds in the mountains.”

“Uncle, you’ve gone mad!”

“Now, now,” Mr. Tate blustered. “There’s no telling what a man o’ his low character’ll do next. Daughter, come home this instant an’ I’ll forget all about this misbehavior.”

“I shan’t go home.” Cynthia clung to Mick’s arm. “Ever again.”

Her father’s face turned crimson.

“I am safer by far with my Mickey and the duke than I am at home,” Cynthia said. “And so would you be, Jane. And Iris. You know it’s true. At Haiknayes, Papa pushed Mama out the window!”

“I knew it!” Alice said.

“Papa,” Jane whispered. “You didn’t.”

“He did,” Cynthia stated. “I saw it happen but afterward they both told me not to tell a soul. Papa threatened me! He said he would lock me in a chamber for a month if I said a word to anybody. They were so worried about whether the duke wanted to marry you while I was walking around terrified of my father!”

“Mr. Tate,” Dr. Shaw said, “did you do as your daughter has said?”

“Tripped on her own hem,” Mr. Tate said.

“Mama was not wearing a long hem that day,” Cynthia cried. “He did it intentionally because she disapproved of Mrs. Aiken as a guest in the castle. Papa was trying to frighten her into not offending the duke with her criticisms.”

“Tate,” Gabriel said, “did you attempt to murder your wife? In my house?”

“I’ll no’ hear another word o’ slander,” Mr. Tate said. “’Tis the final straw, Loch Irvine. If you’ll no’ return my daughter to the bosom o’ her family, then I say good riddance to the both o’ you. Jane, Iris, come.”

The duke shook his head once. “Jonah, remove the documents from his coat pocket.”

After a brief scuffle, Mr. Brock succeeded in wresting a handful of papers from Mr. Tate.

“Burn those,” the duke said.

“Gladly, cousin.”

“Miss Tate.” Gabriel turned to Jane, took her hand, and bowed over it. “Forgive me. I should have said this to you days ago: you are refreshingly kind, an’ as lovely as any man could wish o’ the woman with whom he will enjoy dinner every night, an’ breakfast every morning,” he added with a wink at Mick. “But my heart is already given to another. Has been for years. An’ forgive me for what I must now do.”

The doe eyes were watery. “Now?”

“Miss Campbell,” the duke said, “Cover the child’s ears.”

Alice attached her palms to the sides of Iris’s head.

“Ow!” Iris exclaimed.

“Tate,” the duke said, “you are a vile bastard. I will meet you at dawn tomorrow on my property in the city. Name your weapon. I will cut you down with whichever you choose. Bellarmine or Shaw will have to serve as your second, for I’ll no’ be allowing you out o’ sight o’ a man I trust till I’ve put you in your grave. Forgive me, gentlemen,” he said to Dr. Shaw and Thomas. “Whichever o’ you agrees to it, my cousin will make the arrangements with you.”

“Papa, you mustn’t,” Jane said. “Dueling is illegal.”

“Not to mention, the duke will most certainly kill him,” Libby noted. “He was a decorated naval officer.”

“Dr. Shaw,” Jane pleaded, “I beg of you—tell my father he must not accept this challenge.”

“Now, now, Janie,” Mr. Tate said. “A man’s got to defend his pride.”

The duke crossed his arms. “You are only defending your insatiable greed, Tate.”

Amarantha moved forward.

“Mr. Tate,” she said in her most elevated voice, “do decline His Grace’s invitation to shoot you dead tomorrow morning. At once. And know that, if in the future he should hear even a rumor that you have spoken poorly of him, he will be thrilled to immediately renew his promise to cut you down.” She smiled at his eldest daughter. “Jane, I should very much like to introduce you to my friend, Lady Constance Sterling. She has a marvelously luxurious house in which you and Iris will be delightfully comfortable until your mother returns to town. Her husband, you know, is a renowned swordsman,” she said, with a glance at Mr. Tate.

Cheeks crimson, he faced the duke. “Loch Irvine,” he said shortly, “I accept your withdrawal from our business arrangement.”

“Get off my ship.”

With a glower at his nephew, Mr. Tate hurried down the gangway.

“Come, Jane, Iris,” Alice said when he was gone. “His Grace has had enough of the Tate family now for one day. Cynthia, bring your young man. We will toast to your nuptials. Any excuse for champagne, I say.”

Jane took Iris’s hand, offered a watery smile to Jonah, then went.

“If the duke isn’t sailing off to America or China or wherever after all,” Iris said to Libby descending behind her, “may we still play with the bones at Haiknayes?”

“I am not playing with them, Iris,” Libby said. “I am studying them. Tabitha”—she linked arms with her—“when you and Amarantha have finished your memoir, I really do think you will find the old duke’s collection fascinating.”

Tabitha cast Amarantha a laughing smile and went with the others.

Thomas moved to Amarantha.

“I know what you were willing to sacrifice for others,” he said quietly. “You showed me how to be courageous too.”

“Thank you, Thomas.”

“Honestly, I haven’t felt this good in years.” He bowed to the duke. “Your Grace.” With a nod to Mr. Brock, he followed Dr. Shaw from the ship.

“I am abruptly de trop here,” Mr. Brock said with a smile. “Mrs. Garland, I request the pleasure of your company—”

“No’ at this moment.”

“Of course not. Good God, I’m not such a bumblehead as all that, Gabe.”

“Aye, you are. Now be off with you before I decide you’re to have Haiknayes after all.”

His cousin’s eyes went wide. “You knew I didn’t want it?”

“Aye, you idiot. After ten minutes riding the land I knew. An’ I’d no intention o’ you actually running the place.”

“Damn it, coz, I’ve been terrified for the past several hours, and not only because I thought I would never see you again. Why didn’t you tell me—” His lips snapped shut. His eyes slewed to Amarantha. “I see,” he said shortly. Then he laughed and bowed deeply. “Mrs. Garland, I hope to speak with you tomorrow.” He departed the ship with a light stride.

“Tomorrow?” Gabriel turned his beautiful gaze to her and a tunnel of sweet nerves ran straight up her center.

“When you look at me, I feel breathless,” she said. “Even now.”

His lips slipped into a half smile. He walked to her and took her hand.

“Answer the question,” he said in a low voice and his thumb stroked over her palm.

“Your cousin is the father of Penny’s child.”

“I’ll kill him.”

She smiled. “They were married.”

“I’ll still kill him. ’Twill feel good after all these years.”

“Come now,” she said, allowing him to draw her close. “You have had your little revenge on him finally.”

“Too little. Next time I’ll have to think o’ something more painful.”

“You needn’t. On the drive here from Edinburgh, he told me that he has never forgiven himself for killing Charlotte’s brother. His conscience is deeply troubled.”

“It should be.”

“You will not forgive him?”

“He kept a woman against her will, Amarantha. For that, I canna forgive him.”

“Your mother taught you to respect women, didn’t she? Or perhaps both your parents demonstrated that respect.”

“An’ you,” he said.

“And I?”

“You showed me.”

“You were already a man when we met.”

“I was a lad full o’ pride an’ arrogance. ’Twas a wonder you could bear me.”

“It seems I have extraordinary inner resources.”

“You were extraordinary. You still are. You frightened the drawers off o’ Tate.”

“Not at all. It is your murderous skill that he fears.”

“Why didna I think to call him out sooner?”

“Because,” she said, smoothing her palm over his waistcoat, “you are not in the habit of making demonstrations of your power.”

“I’ve no idea what that means,” he said. “But I do like to see those lips smile.”

“Why didn’t you bring Cynthia here as proof of your innocence?”

“When I found them, she wouldna agree to return to Kallin unless I vowed to no’ inform her father.”

She smiled. “She could not resist playing the heroine, I suppose. I hope her father remains cowed.”

“You an’ Lady Constance put your clever heads together an’ find Jane Tate a noble title to marry. Tate’ll forget he’s ever been to Kallin.”

“I cannot.”

“You would rather I shoot him at dawn?”

“Jane is already in love. I cannot encourage her to wed to suit the wishes of others.” She lifted her eyes to him. “A woman should be with the one that her heart cries out for.”

“Amarantha,” he said. “Marry me.”

Her lips closed tightly. He bent his head and touched his lips softly to her temple. Then to her cheek. Then to the side of her mouth, and then her throat.

“You are everything to me, woman. Always. Eternally.”

“No. Not always.”

He lifted his head.

“You wanted the navy more than me,” she said, “which was perfectly reasonable, I realize now. It was your life.”

“No,” he said. “You were my life. In nine weeks you became that.”

“No. Not always. Not everything.”

“Lass—”

She backed away from him. “You sent me away.”

He shook his head.

“I came to you last autumn”—her voice broke—“to Kallin. I sailed hundreds of miles, rode and walked dozens more, to find you.”

“No, wild one. You went to Kallin because it was a destination, an excuse to be free o’ your confines. Where will you run to next, Amarantha? What adventure will you invent to give you reason to run?”

“I was not running. I was looking for you!”

“Yet you used a stranger’s name. Why?”

“I was cautious. I was frightened.”

“You were misguided. For hear this, woman—if I were buried in a box underground an’ you walked along the street above I would know you were near. If I were at the bottom o’ the sea an’ you sailed overhead, I would know it was your shadow passing across the sun. For five an’ a half years I’ve thought only o’ you. When you wed him, you broke my heart. When you went to Kallin in secret, you broke it again. An’ I deserved it both times. For I never deserved you. I’ve known since the day we met that all the medals o’ honor I could collect would mean nothing to you. An’ in every hour since then I’ve done all that I could to ensure that if I would ever be given the chance to win you, I might.” He drew a hard breath. “Then you hurled yourself back into my life like a madwoman, even more wild an’ beautiful than—”

“You have done all that you could?”

“Aye.”

The man she had known in Kingston had not been a recluse, rather a pleasure lover, with acquaintances and friends across the island. She had never believed the gossip about the diabolical hermit; it was simply too absurd. The obvious pleasure he took in the people of Haiknayes and Kallin only proved it.

Which meant that he had become a recluse by design.

I would give it all up to have you.

“The secrets you have kept,” she said, “the accusations you failed to deny, the gossip you weathered by shutting yourself off from the world, all to keep safe those in your protection—You told me you did it to atone.”

“Atone. Court you.” The corner of his mouth tilted up, a rueful, humble affirmation. “Six o’ one, lass.”

“But I was married.”

“Aye.” The laughter left his eyes. “The day I learned it was the day this all began.” He moved to her and stood before her. “I knew there would be no other woman for me, Amarantha. I returned for you. But I was too late. An’ after I lost you, there was nothing else I could do. I couldna be with you. I needed at least to be a man you would admire if ever we met again.”

“You waited?” she whispered. “All of these years. You waited for me to come find you, just as you promised you would?”

“For however long you are on this earth, whether mine or no’, I will wait for you.” He tilted his head. “Extraordinary stamina, recall.” He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her wrist. “What’ll you have me do now, lass? Take to the sea an’ follow you about the world? I’ll do it. For now that I have you, wherever you run, I will also go. Seems to me best no’ to allow you out o’ my sight.”

Tears sparkled in her eyes. “I do not want to run anymore.”

“Aye, you do.”

“I believe that I know my mind better than you, Urisk.”

“’Tis no’ in your mind, lass,” he said quite seriously. “’Tis in your heart.”

A tear dropped onto her cheek. “You are in my heart.”

“I’ve been hoping you would notice that.”

She tightened her hold on his fingers, but her hands shook. “You are my adventure, Gabriel.”

“I’m—” His voice caught. “I’m glad to hear it.” Then with her hand snugly in his, he went to his knee before her. “Now, for pity’s sake, lass, put a man outta an eternity o’ misery an’ say you’ll have him finally.”

“I wonder how our lives would have altered had you gone to one knee and proposed to me on the dock that morning.”

“I considered it, actually.”

“Did you? Why didn’t you do it?”

“The whites, o’ course.” He lifted a brow. “’Tis a chore bleaching the stains out, lass.”

“I see. Then I must be glad you spared the knees of your breeches.” She offered him a little smile. “If not both of our hearts.”

He pulled her down onto his knee, wrapped his strong arms about her, and kissed her quite thoroughly.

“Have me, love, an’ I’ll spend the rest o’ our lives showing you it was worth the wait.”

She sank her hands into his hair, held him close, and whispered the words he had so long wished to hear.

Hours later, in darkness lit by a single candle, with the only sounds the soft slap of water against the quay and her lover’s hard breathing, Amarantha collapsed onto his chest and buried her face in the cave of his shoulder. Laughter tumbled from her lips and across his damp skin.

“If you are laughing at my performance,” he murmured, his hands circling her behind, “I will simply have to go one better the next time.”

“Better?” She sighed, and kissed his shoulder, then the hard bone that ran to the base of his throat, then his chest. “I really don’t see how that could be possible.”

“Allow me five minutes.” His palms smoothed along her thighs. “Then I’ll show you.”

She tucked her face against his neck. “Am I dreaming? Or can this truly be real?”

“I have had so many dreams o’ this, I know ’tis real this time.”

She lifted her head and set her palms on the mattress to either side of him, and her hair draped down like rippling fire. With one hand he smoothed it behind her ear. It fell forward again.

She smiled. “You cannot tame even my hair.”

“I will never wish to tame anything about you.” His throat moved in an awkward jerk. “You are here,” he whispered. “Still here.”

“Where else would I go when I only want to be with you? And when I am on a ship in the middle of the night?”

“The morning I left Kallin, I believed I would never see you again.”

She sat back, and then slid off him and tucked her legs beneath her.

“Why did you believe that? Had you already formed your plan to sail away to the east?”

“No.” He pushed up onto his elbow.

Her gaze went to his arm. A flush of pink began on her cheeks then trailed down her neck to her chest where, beneath his gaze, her nipples were stirring to peaks. She breathed deeply, swallowed, and her eyes shifted back to his.

“I—” she said, and drew another thick breath. “What were we talking about?”

He wanted to laugh. Instead he said, “Tell me what you desire.”

A dart wrinkled the bridge of her nose and she lowered her gaze.

“I am—I am not accustomed to speaking my desires in the bedchamber,” she said quick and quietly, and then firmer: “Anywhere. I am not accustomed to speaking my desires anywhere. Too often I have been told they are wrong. Misguided. Ill-conceived. Improper. Unchaste.” She lifted her eyes and defiant fire sparked in the cloverleaves. “I think perhaps that I run because I do not wish to be told that I may not.”

“You want me,” he said. “Tell me how.”

“What if you do not want what I want?”

“There is nothing you could want o’ me that I dinna want. Trust me.”

“Trust you,” she whispered as though tasting the words. “That,” she said abruptly, looking down. “I want that.”

“My arm?”

“That muscle. There. The one you use to chop wood.” Her lips were quivering.

“It requires more than the use o’ one muscle to chop wood.”

“That one is . . .” In the candlelight the dark flush was a shadow across her face and breasts. “It is beautiful.” She met his gaze and her shoulders rose and fell on swift, hard breaths. “I want to bite it. And lick it.”

“My God, woman, what are you waiting for?”

She laughed and the joy in the music of it made him mad to touch her. He turned her onto her back and kissed her mouth, then her throat, then the luscious curve of her breast. Slipping his hand between her legs, he stroked her. She sighed, and then moaned, and rose to him.

“What—” She gasped. “What of my request to bite and lick—oh-ohh—that muscle?”

“You needna request, lass. Just do.”

Springing up, she did, grabbing hold of his arm and pinning her beautiful lips to his skin. Then her hands were on his chest, pressing him back as she lavished him with her teeth and he felt it in his hardening cock.

Mouth on his arm, she straddled his waist, spread her thighs, and pleasured herself on him. It was stunning, the passion of her body, her fluid eagerness, the hunger in her mouth. When she began whimpering, he surrounded her buttocks with his hands and pressed his finger inside her.

She gasped and cried out, crying again as she accepted him deeper, and then letting him ease her against the shaft of his cock. Then the tremors rose in her, and she sobbed, the sound breaking from her throat as she bore down on him, her body entirely open, shuddering, his.

“Now,” she said. “Make another of my dreams come true.”

She let him take her, rocking herself onto him, bucking when he touched her and matched his caresses to his thrusts. She called his name and he told her he loved her, twice, and then a third time because she asked him to.

She was wrapped in his arms with her back against his chest and their legs tangled, and she had finally caught her breaths when he said, “I made a pact with the devil.”

She turned her head and her cheek brushed across his whiskers.

“I beg your pardon?”

“’Tis I who should beg yours.”

She swiveled around in his arms and placed her palms on his chest.

“Perhaps you should explain.”

“Seven months after I left Kingston, Theia came into a fierce storm. She was breaking apart. I’d eighty-four men aboard. I made a pact with the devil.”

“I see.”

“You’re no’ shocked.”

“I have read a lot of scripture.” Her lips were beautiful. “What was the pact?”

“I told him that if he brought all my men through the storm alive, I’d give him what I wanted most in the world.”

“Let me guess: a golden ship. Or, no—a chest full of gold. Or—” She gasped. “You did not promise Haiknayes!”

“No. Something I wanted much more than Haiknayes,” he said. “Someone.”

She blinked. “Me?”

“I promised him that if I ever had you for a single night, an entire night, he could take me away after that an’ I’d no’ resist.”

She did not speak for a full minute.

“Only the one night?” she finally said.

“Aye.”

“Not the day too?”

He screwed his brow up. “Well, at the time I was still plenty angry with you.”

Laughter cracked from her. Smiling, he drew her tight against him.

“Did all of your men live?” she said quite soberly.

“Aye.”

“Yet here we are.”

“For now.”

“This is not our first entire night together.”

“At Kallin—”

“I left after dawn,” she said. “That was our first night.”

He ducked his head to look into her eyes. “Sailors are a superstitious breed, lass.”

“Apparently.” She traced a fingertip along his jaw.

“That night, in the chapel,” he said, “I needed you to marry me.”

“Needed?”

“So that if you had me that night, as beneath the stairs you’d said you wanted, I would know that if the devil took me afterward, everything I had would be yours.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“You needn’t have feared,” she whispered, as he kissed her brow and cheeks and the tip of her nose. “For it was not the devil who saw you through that storm.”

“No?”

“I prayed for you. Every day.”

His lips stilled on her hair.

“For your safety at sea,” she said. “Every day for months and months, even though you had abandoned me. I could not cease loving you.” She reached up and drew his mouth to hers. “So you see, Devil’s Duke, all of this time you have been misnamed.”

“It seems so,” he said, and smiled through her kisses. “What name will you invent for me now that all the others no longer suit?”

She tasted his mouth again, then again, and pressed her nose to his skin and breathed him in.

“A name that I think has suited you all along.”

“Aye, lass? What’s that?”

She whispered, “Mine.”