Her eyes sparkling with mischief, Harriet bent down and kissed him on the cheek.
Still leaning close, she pushed her mug toward his hand, her warm breath brushing his ear like a barely felt caress. “Be sure to finish this off. Might help your headache. Are the dizzy spells getting better yet?”
For the second time that day, Nick worked his jaw, but no words came out.
She spoke to him over her shoulder at the door. “Don’t worry, Norton hasn’t shared any information about your condition. Those symptoms are to be expected after a nasty blow to the head like you suffered. Though he’s not very good at slipping you the twists of paper without being noticed. Headache powders?”
She smiled again, pleased with herself like a cat in the cream pot for flummoxing him, and slipped out the door.
Nick sat as though carved from ice, the absolute stillness of his body in stark contrast to the stormy maelstrom of his thoughts.
She knew.
Harriet knew his deepest, darkest, most closely guarded secret.
That he was actually a bastard.
A fraud. An imposter.
Not fit to hold the title of viscount.
Nick had the title only because Adam had decided to acknowledge Zach’s by-blow as his heir.
The secret that had disrupted his whole life, set on its ear everything he thought he knew about himself and his parents and his uncle, had sent him running away to the far side of the world for over a year before he could bear to look at his home again, to look in the eye anyone who knew his mother, Adam, and Zach.
And Harriet didn’t seem to care. It mattered not a whit to her.
Surely Zach would not have told her. How had she figured it out?
Nick jumped up and ran out of the cabin.
Up on deck, he took a glance at the still-overcast sky, checked that everything seemed in order and trimmed correctly for the still-stiff breeze, and got the all-good sign from Bos’n at the tiller. On his way to the aft hatch, he glanced down into the center hold, where the cover had been opened for the horses to enjoy the last bit of daylight, and froze.
Zach was there, speaking with Harriet. The waning daylight shone down on them, the black horses milling around them and melting into the shadows. Suddenly Harriet shouted “Yes!” loud enough that Nick heard her, and threw herself into Zach’s embrace. Zach wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet, swinging her in a circle before setting her down.
The red haze that suddenly blocked much of Nick’s vision made it difficult to see, but Zach bent his head and appeared to kiss Harriet.
Nick bolted down the hatch, shoved a crewman out of his way as he thundered down the passageway, and plunged into the center cargo hold.
Zach wasn’t there.
Harriet was alone with the horses.
She was astride Tesoro bareback, leaning low over his neck to avoid hitting the ceiling, leading Button, and had started walking them in circles around the perimeter of the hold, exercising them as much as possible in the small space. A broad grin lit up her face.
Nick paused to collect himself. Forced his breathing to slow. “You’re half-owner of only one of these beasts,” he said, leaning against the bulkhead with one foot crossed over the other ankle, his arms folded, the epitome of nonchalance. He could do nonchalant. “Why are you taking on so much of the care of both?”
Tesoro paused as they came abreast of Nick to snuffle at his hands, then snorted in disgust when there was no treat forthcoming and moved on. Button nudged at Nick’s coat pocket, and when Nick pushed him away without a treat, tossed his head in Gallic derision and caught up with Tesoro.
Harriet was in shadow on the far side of the hold by the time she replied. “There is work that needs to be done. We’re shorthanded and have extra animals to care for. I don’t mind helping. And it makes time pass more quickly.”
Damn, he could hear the joy in her voice.
His stomach knotted. His chest was so tight he could barely draw breath.
“You’re also half-owner. We don’t expect you to help with the horse, though, because you’re busy doing things that no one else on board can do. Like safely navigate our way home. Keep us from being dismasted in a storm.” Her circle with the horses brought her abreast of him again. She looked at him from atop the stallion’s back. “So I stepped in where I could.” Her smile was breathtaking.
Or perhaps he was just having trouble breathing, knowing that someone else was responsible for the degree of happiness she was clearly experiencing. A level of joy that hadn’t been there even a half hour before. And he had not been the one to make her happy.
