Page 26 of Unearthing the Smuggler's Heart
"My kingdom for a breeze," Isabelle said with a sigh, startling him out of this particular reverie for a second time in mere minutes.
She was slumped over the railing to his left. She had joined him to stare angrily at the horizon and sip Chablis. She had quickly decided that the latter was unappealing, and her glass sat, untouched by her bare feet.
"I do think you should see a physician when we get to shore," he said to her, frowning. "You aren't yourself."
"Ah, perhaps this is growing old," Isabelle teased with a little huff. "I have been rather sluggish, haven't I?"
"Maybe your sloth is impacting our winds."
"Maybe so." She sighed and pushed herself to standing, craning her neck from side to side. "Perhaps I draw my elan from my husband, hm? And in his absence, I am naught but a slug."
"From Peter?" He laughed, knocking back the remainder of his wine. "I rather think the opposite. He calms you."
"Nonsense. He invigorates me. But I suppose I have Jade here to keep my mind keen, and I'm abed half the day anyhow."
"Jade isnothinglike Peter," he told her, sounding a bit overly harsh even to his own ear. The comparison grated against his bones.
"Mhm, andyouare nothing likemeas well, then? Is that what you think?" She laughed outright, unconcerned with the expression on his face, which he imagined resembled gathering storm clouds.
He opened his mouth to reply but could think of nothing to say other than a rebuking, "Isabelle."
Why did this comparison irk him so?
She laughed, picking up her glass of wine and setting it on a nearby table, still full. "If we're stuck here for a while, we might as well take advantage of it. Maybe the cold water will energize me, hm?"
"Wait a second..." he began, but she had already tossed her belt to the side and was in the process of wriggling out of her skirt, her chemise brushing her ankles.
A few passing crewmen turned their heads, eyes like to pop out of their skulls if they didn't keep moving. Mathias sighed.
"Afraid of the cold, Sir Guy of Gisborne?" she taunted, calling him by the merry man in Robin Hood's story that he claimed he most resembled. She was grinning, climbing up onto the railing with her hair coming free from her braid around her face. "Shouldn't a sailor know how to swim?"
“Guy of Gisborne was not a sailor.”
“He was a competitor,” she said with a widening of her hazel eyes. “And I, as Robin Hood, must challenge you to a show of mettle.”
"Don't!" he called, but he was unable to suppress a smile.
She looked like a banshee, swathed in white and wild-eyed and gleeful. “Maid Marian observes,” she added, with a nod to the aft of the ship.
“Who?” he snapped, but it only made her laugh.
When she dove from the railing, she cut a graceful arc into the air before landing with a splash in the Riviera. She came back up with a shriek, though whether she approved of the chilly water or rued her choices was unclear until the bright laugh that followed it, sparkling like the sun on the water.
He leaned over the railing and shook his head, staring down at her in wonder. "You're going to have to scale the side of the ship to get back up here," he chided.
"Not if you get the rope ladder," she called back, her legs kicking under her in the crystal-clear water. "Join me!"
He chuckled, considering her flitting about like an otter off the bow of the ship. He really oughtn't dally around this close to port.
He turned to instruct one of the pop-eyed crewmen to go fetch the rope ladder and shooed the other one away, back to his duties or to his leisure or whatever the devil Miss Ferris had ordained for him in this particular moment.
Shewasthere, he realized, just past where his crewmen had stopped to gape, also watching with fascinated interest where Isabelle had vanished off the railing. She was too far away to know for certain, but he somehow knew beyond any doubt that her eyes had just found his.
Maybe a dip in cold water was exactly what he needed just now. He kept his gaze trained on her as he pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it into the rumpled pile of Isabelle's things. He kicked his boots off and grinned at her, knowing that there was something of a taunt behind that smile, then he turned on his heel and vaulted himself over the railing and into the cool, blue embrace of the Côte d'Azur.
* * *
Jade couldn't believewhat she was seeing.
