Chapter Four
Christian waited, noting how Miss Warstein’s body went stiff before she turned to face him.
“Yes, Lieutenant?”
Her face had paled, but he couldn’t drag his eyes from her hair.
The candlelight from a chandelier overhead reflected off the fiery curls draped over her shoulder.
When he first caught her in the hallway, all he could think of was that infuriating vixen who had called herself “Captain.” Such a rare color.
And to see it twice in the same week? Fate liked to taunt him.
He let his eyes slide over Miss Warstein, who stared at his boots.
Taller than most women, her body stretched long and lithe beneath her gown.
She chewed on her lip, pretty and pink, and he couldn’t help sweeping his gaze to where her neckline plunged low, baring the rounded flesh of her breasts.
Desire slammed through him, heavy and hot, and he took a small step back.
Goodness, what was wrong with him?
It was because she reminded him of her.
All week he’d tried to picture what she must look like behind her mask. If only he had ripped it free when he’d had the chance.
Miss Warstein wrung her hands together under his scrutiny and he cleared his throat before extending a hand. “Would you like to dance?”
The poor girl looked at his hand as if he’d offered her a dead fish. After a succession of rapid blinks, she met his gaze. In the light, her eyes shone like the azure waters of the sea.
“I don’t dance.”
He caught his snort of disbelief before it emerged. Surely, men tripped over themselves to claim dances with this enchanting woman.
“Nonsense. I promise I don’t bite.”
Long lashes shielded her eyes as she gave a longing glance toward the wall where another young lady watched them with rapt attention. With an unladylike sigh, she settled her fingers into his outstretched hand.
He guided her onto the dance floor and she set her other hand on his shoulder, her touch light as a feather. “For a moment there, Miss Warstein, I thought you would turn me down before all of Savannah. I’m not sure my pride could have withstood the blow.”
She stiffened and he frowned. He rarely had a hard time charming the ladies, but she seemed immune to his flirting.
The music started and her feet moved in unison with his, and he knew her claim to be false. She danced like a master. A tight-lipped master who stared at his chest as if he were a wall.
Shy, then. Too bad.
“So, Miss Warstein . . .” He trailed off. What did one converse about with a shy wallflower?
“I heard you captured a pirate ship.” She spoke to his buttons.
“Yes. One less crew of criminals to plague the waters.”
She shivered and he fought the urge to pull her closer. “It must be so frightening to fight them.”
He guided her through a turn. “Not at all, Miss Warstein. You see, pirates are cowards.”
The hand at his shoulder tightened its grip and she missed a step. She glanced up at him then, her eyes swirling with the colors of the sea.
“Surely you jest.”
A smattering of faint freckles lined her nose. He shook his head.
“It’s the truth.”
She returned her gaze to his buttons. “I shall endeavor to remember that if I’m ever unfortunate enough to cross paths with one.”
They reached the center of the dance floor and he used the central location to scan the crowd around them. Would she melt into hysterics if he told her that somewhere in this very room, pirates lurked?
Her uncle stood with a group of men and noticed them with raised brows.
Henry Warstein owned the biggest shipping company south of New York.
Christian tried to remember how the mogul had come to raise his niece.
Something about a shipping accident that had claimed her parents’ lives when she was young.
When he finished his perusal of the room, he maneuvered them toward the open doors to the terrace. No unfamiliar faces anywhere. The music drew to a stop and Miss Warstein pulled from his grasp and curtsied.
He offered his elbow and nodded to the door at their side. “Care for a stroll onto the terrace?”
After a moment’s hesitation, she took it and they left the stuffy air of the ballroom behind.
At the railing, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
He let her loose and looked out over the river twisting below them.
A half-moon glistened over the water, where lights twinkled from ships anchored in the bay. One of which was the Falcon.
He’d petitioned President Jefferson for more ships. And Georgia’s governor had recently added his voice to the request. Soon, no more pirates would sail the seas or even walk this land.
When he turned back to Miss Warstein, she was examining him. With a start, she jerked her gaze away. Even in the pale moonlight, the color on her cheeks was visible.
She looked off into the distance. “Thank you for bringing me out here.”
He nodded. “I could tell you were not enjoying yourself inside.”
Her shoulders sagged. “Was it so obvious?”
He shrugged. “To others, probably not. To myself, yes. I’m very good at reading people. I have to be, to excel at what I do.”
Her gaze snapped back to meet his. “And what else about me have you read?”
Finally, some spunk. He grinned. Being demure did not suit her.
“Quite a bit. For instance, you’ve received some of the best training to be had in dancing, so I would expect you excel at most every activity you partake in. Also, I know this image you portray is fake.”
She swallowed and glanced around them as he continued. “I think you’re afraid to let the world see the real you. So, you hide behind the convenient mask of a wallflower.” He paused to look her up and down. “Would I be wrong to bet that you’re a completely different person at home?”
She opened her mouth, but he lifted a finger to her lips. “Don’t answer.” God, her lips were soft. He fought the wild urge to claim them with his own. Instead, he pressed on. “I think you’ve been hurt.”
Her eyes widened.
“No, not by a lover. By your parents’ loss. And that hurt lingers. It dictates your choices. You try to bottle up how it makes you feel, and in turn, bottle up who you are.”
Something in her eyes went hard and he clamped his mouth shut. He hadn’t meant to dig so deep.
“Don’t presume to know me so well, Lieutenant.” Ice crept into her words. She stepped back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a wall to grace.”
Her hands bunched into fists at her side, and she spun away.
When she disappeared into the ballroom, he sighed and leaned over the railing. Familiar footsteps approached.
“Not like you to let a beautiful woman hamper a mission.” Isaac, his best friend and first officer, appeared from the shadows.
Christian ran a hand through his hair. “The mission was aborted before I set eyes on Miss Warstein. With her in the hallway, the bloody criminals would have never chanced their meeting.”
His blood simmered.
So close.
So damn close to putting a face to the elusive Captain Remington.
Intelligence had hinted the pirate would be in attendance.
And when the meeting place had been leaked by a well-paid footman, it had all but sealed the crook’s fate.
Only to have a pretty redhead unhinge the whole plot with her aching feet.
Pretty redheads in general had become a new source of trouble.
He sent a silent curse out against ridiculous women’s fashion and pounded his fist against the railing. “How did we miss him? Who knows when we’ll get another chance like that?”
His friend drew nearer. “Don’t worry. We’ll get him in due time. Plenty of other fish to catch. For now, how about we head to the tavern? I think a few rounds of ale along with a warm, willing body would do you good.”
Christian’s finger rose to the tiny scab on his neck. “I’m going home.” A vision of flaming hair billowing in the wind flashed before his eyes.
Other fish indeed.
*
“Find her.” Christian slammed his dagger into the map on his desk. His new dagger, since a certain wench now had his government-issued one. “I don’t care how you do it.”
His officers nodded and filed from the room, but Isaac stayed behind.
“Are you sure it’s wise to expend so many resources on one pirate?”
Christian turned from his friend and paced in front of the desk. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes. Hell, I’ll fund the mission myself if I have to.”
“All because you were bested by a woman?”
Muscles tensed, Christian stopped and stared at the painting above the fireplace. Bested by a woman. He’d heard the whispers among his men since that day. His teeth ground together. He would never live it down.
“No,” he growled and pointed to the portrait.
His mother.
“Because of her. Because she was taken hostage and God knows what she suffered at their hands before she died.”
Isaac remained silent for a long moment while Christian stewed before pressing his fingers together. “Chris, I know you don’t want to hear this, but you tread a fine line between duty and following your father’s footsteps.”
Christian blew out his breath. “Don’t you dare bring him into this.”
Isaac cleared his throat. “The real question is, are you really willing to send a woman to the noose?”
“Women have hanged for far lesser crimes.”
“At your order?”
Isaac’s soft words broke Christian’s fragile hold on his control.
He spun around. “What exactly are you suggesting? That I let her go? That I ignore her crimes because she’s female? If that’s the stance you’re going to take, I swear, I will relieve you of your duties right here and now. You can go back to Washington. Find yourself a new mission.”
Isaac raised both his hands. “You know I’ll follow your orders.”
“Then help me find her.”
Christian pressed his fingers to his brow. Isaac had been his friend since they were boys. He’d been the brother Christian had always wished for. They’d gone to boarding school together and later attended Columbia. It hardly surprised anyone when they enlisted in the navy after graduating.