to close her mouth, but clearly had no idea how to respond.
Yasmeen cleared her throat and helped her out. “It probably won’t happen, you realize. He won’t even make any requests. In the unlikely event that he does, however, these are my instructions.”
The quartermaster released a long breath. “Yes, ma’am.”
“All right.” Yasmeen slid a sheaf of papers across the desk. “This is your contract. Your duties are listed; if you have any questions, I suggest that you ask the steward for clarification before you sign it. After you have signed it, he’ll add you to the payroll. Your wages and share are noted on the second page.”
Vashon’s eyes rounded. “That’s incredibly generous, ma’am.”
Only if she lasted long enough to collect it. “Don’t be fooled by the number, mademoiselle. My last quartermaster thought that amount of money made him a man of leisure—but I will work every single denier out of you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then welcome aboard Lady Nergüi, mademoiselle. You’re dismissed.”
The moment Vashon made her exit, Yasmeen’s gaze returned to Archimedes. He rose from the pillows, so lean and strong.
The roughness of his voice was a caress up her spine. “Why?”
“Why do I state what has become obvious to all of the crew? I am still captain, but this ship is your lady, too. I trust you to care for her, for us, if the need arises. I trust that you will do it, even if by undermining me you risk my anger—I trust that you will do it, even if it’s at the expense of your own heart.” Yasmeen stood and came around the desk, her pulse racing. She wasn’t adept at these sorts of declarations, not like he was. Still, she was glad to make it. “But I would never ask you to risk your heart. I want you to know that if you ever do need to override me, you can without fear that I’ll resent you for it. Because I have no fear that you would ever do it without great reason.”
He crossed the cabin, caught her face between his hands. His emerald gaze searched her features, as if seeking any doubts. “You don’t fear at all?”
“No.” Not that he would take her ship. She only feared losing him.
His focus dropped to her lips. “Kiss me, then,” he said.
Gladly. He met her halfway—and oh, his mouth. So sweet. His arms slid around her waist. She clung to his shoulders, sought a deeper taste, and with the parting of his lips she began shaking from the intensity of the emotions tearing through her. How could he do this to her so easily? Often, their kisses were playful, fun. Not this one. It brought her heart up out of her chest, filled the space between them.
Yasmeen never knew what to do when he left her so vulnerable, so open. She kissed him—by the lady, how could she not when it felt as if she would die without it?—and she loved him. God, how she loved him. But she knew the only thing that saved her when she exposed her heart was Archimedes himself, and that she trusted him never to crush it.
He knew, too. When he lifted his head—not far, just enough to look into her eyes—his breathing was as rough as hers, and already he was helping her find a more comfortable tack. “You made me lose my head, Mrs. Fox. I meant to steal my daggers back.”
Smiling, she pressed another kiss to his mouth and dropped her hands to her thighs. “Look again, Mr. Fox. I didn’t take them.”
He was quick, but she was quicker. By the time his hands fell to his hips, she’d already slipped the blades into his sheaths and returned her arms around his neck. His grin matched hers.
“You gave them back?”
“I saved you the humiliation of fumbling when you attempted to steal them.”
“Truly?” His eyes narrowed. “No. You’ve revealed yourself, Captain. Now I know you love me.”
“It must be love,” she agreed. “You humiliate yourself so regularly, yet I try to spare you whenever I can.”
Laughing, he caught her waist again, dragged her against him. “And this time, I’m grateful for it. Because God knows, I would only have to touch your thighs and completely forget why I was attempting to grab a pair of knives, instead.”
He only had to touch her, too—though right now, they couldn’t follow through. With a sigh, Yasmeen laid her head against his shoulder.
Archimedes groaned. “Our daily visit with Mrs. Fortescue?”
“Yes.” Though rather than simply adjusting and verifying