longer. Bolt the door behind me. I’ll see what Mr. Barrow has to report.”
If she could have taken this big, stubborn Scot over her knee and spanked him, she would have. “My lord, I’m certain it will not be much longer now before they find him. Will you not be a little more patient?”
“No. My father dinna raise me to be a sniveling coward. I intend to find the man before he finds us.”
She rolled her eyes in exasperation and rose to come to his side. “This is exactly what he hopes you will do. Surely, you must understand this. You cannot walk into his trap. And who is to save you when you do? My orders are to remain here with your son. If you leave, I will not be able to protect your aristocratic behind.”
To emphasize her irritation, she folded her arms across her chest, tapped her foot, and pursed her lips in indignation.
“Ye look like ye just sucked on a sour lemon, lass.” He playfully plucked the mobcap off her head to further irk her. “I’m going to burn the garish thing when all this is finished.”
“You will not. I’ll be charged for the loss of it.” She tried to swipe it back from him, but he easily raised it out of her reach. “Gad! Is every marquis as annoying as you? Or is it just the Scottish ones?”
“Taffy, ye are not my priggish tutor and I am not a child to be talked down to. I do not need ye protecting my exalted Scottish arse. Bolt the door after me and do not give me that sucked-on-lemons look when I return.”
“Fine.” She held out her hand. “Give me back my cap.”
He stuck it back on her head, pulling it low so that it covered her eyes. “’Tis a sin to cover yer lustrous curls.”
“I shall report your bad behavior to your father,” she teased back.
“Make sure ye report this, too.” He picked her up as she was adjusting her cap, and gave her a grinding and utterly exquisite kiss on the mouth.
She shook her head and hurried to the door to bolt it after he strode out. Then, because she was still reeling from his kiss, she leaned her head against the door and groaned. If Mr. Barrow ever assigned her another Scottish nobleman to guard, she would refuse. No amount of compensation would sway her.
But after a moment she returned to Rafe who was peeking out from the sitting area alcove, his sweet face all smiles because he’d seen his father kiss her again. “Papa likes you.”
She worried that the boy would make too much of her father’s flirtations and get too attached to her. “Let’s finish our seafaring story, shall we? Where did we leave off?” She flipped the pages. “Oh, yes. Young Rafe had found a treasure map and figured out where the sixteenth century Spanish pirate, Roderigo Marengo, had buried his legendary treasure before he’d met his untimely death in the jaws of a big-toothed tiger shark.”
Rafe nestled back in her arms while she continued reading to him. “The English pirate captain, Red Jack Cummings, realized his stowaway, Rafe Carstairs, was a very smart young man. He decided not to make him walk the plank and toss him into the wild Sargasso Sea.”
“Why is it wild?” Rafe asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe because it has a lot of storms. The waters grow rough and the winds howl, and boats are tossed up and down amid the crashing waves.” She read on, watching the boy whose eyes were wide in wonder. He was so absorbed in the story, for a moment she forgot the danger of her mission and enjoyed the simple pleasure of watching this boy react to every chapter.
She was now reading to him about the day Red Jack sighted an island in the Sargasso Sea. “Red Jack called Rafe over to the rail and lifted him up so he could see into the water where a hundred eels were swimming around the floating bits of seaweed. Their silver scales shimmered beneath the blue sea, while at night, they made the water shine as bright as the moon so that Captain Red Jack’s ship seemed to be sailing upon a sea of silver moonbeams.”
They were nearing the point where Rafe and Red Jack were about to explore the island to hunt for the lost Spanish treasure, when she heard several shots ring out. By the echo of what sounded like hunting rifles,