Page 50 of A Lady's Handbook of Espionage
They both watched as the ship eased into its berth. The air filled with shouts and the creaking of ropes, the thud of gangplanks being lowered, yelling from the welcoming crowd on the shore. Passengers began to gather their belongings.
“I suppose this is goodbye, then,” Emma said. Moisture gathered in her eyes. “Promise me you’ll be careful and you won’t do anything reckless.”
Isabel snorted. “Recklessis practically my middle name. Along withDangerandPoor Life Choices.”
Footsteps approached from behind.
“Emma.” Kent’s voice, deep and commanding. “Our carriage is waiting at the docks.”
“Right. Of course.” Emma hugged her, squeezing so tight it hurt. “I love you. Always. No matter what.”
“I know,” Isabel whispered. She looked at Kent as she released her sister. “Take care of her for me.”
“I will,” the earl said. “You have my word.”
“See that you keep it. Or there’s no corner of this earth you can hide from me.”
He gave her a slight smile. “I’d expect nothing less.”
Isabel squeezed Emma’s hand one last time and watched them walk away. She remained at the railing for a few more minutes, gathering herself, then made her way towards the gangplank.
And nearly walked into a muscular chest.
“Careful, Trouble.” Callahan’s voice was a low rumble, edged with a familiar bite of mockery. “It’d be a shame if you went arse over teakettle before we’ve even left the ship.”
She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t meet that storm-grey gaze without remembering the sounds he’d dragged from her throat with lips and teeth and tongue.
“Maybe if you didn’t insist on looming out of nowhere, I wouldn’t be in danger of falling,” she snapped.
“Maybe if you paid the slightest bit of attention to your surroundings instead of getting lost in your head, my ‘looming’ wouldn’t take you by surprise.”
There was a certain set to his mouth and a crease between his brow she’d learned to recognise – his frustration simmering just below the surface.
Good. At least she wasn’t alone in her discontent and irritation. He ought to be every bit as miserable as she was.
“Are we going to depart? I’m eager to meet my new handler.”
His lips tightened more. “After you. I already had your luggage collected.”
A gleaming black carriage waited for them at the edge of the docks, drawn by a pair of matched bays. Neither spoke as they climbed inside.
Callahan’s massive body made the space seem even more cramped, his knees brushing hers as he settled onto the bench opposite. Isabel angled away. She focused on the view out the window as the vehicle lurched into motion and winded through Boston’s narrow streets lined with brick buildings. The air was thick with coal smoke and the mingled scent of the ocean. Vendors hawked their wares on street corners, their shouts blending with the clop of hooves and rumble of wheels on cobblestones.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
His voice cracked the silence like a whip. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t so much as shift her gaze from the window.
“Have I?” she asked coolly.
The bench creaked as he leaned forward. “You know you have. Ever since that night in my cabin, you’ve been slithering through every bolthole on that blasted ship like a scalded cat. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
“Anyone ever tell you that you have a way with words? Be still my beating heart.”
“Anyone ever tell you that sarcasm is the last refuge of the emotionally stunted?”
“I think you’re confusing sarcasm with self-preservation.”
“I think you’re confusing self-preservation with cowardice.”
