“And you’ll tell me yours?”
“When we reach our destination.”
Her glance drifted to the yacht. At the bow of the ship, Birdie whistled a shanty tune as she tightened the jib sheet.
Diana watched the ship for a moment before she sputtered an exhale. “Yes, we’re going to Monte Carlo. And yes, I know this is the most obvious way to travel, which makes it less safe. But it’s the fastest. We must get there by tomorrow evening.”
“Why?”
“I’m following protocol.” Her eyes flicked to the boat again, and Ian pinched her chin to draw her attention back to him.
“Diana. What is it?”
“If I don’t make it to the signal point in Monte Carlo tomorrow, my handler is going to make assumptions.”
“They’ll think I’ve turned you into a rogue.” The apprehension in her eyes made tension build between his shoulders. “I can help clarify the circumstances. I can be very persuasive.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said softly. “We can’t undo what happened. But we also can’t delay another minute.”
She led him onto the boat, and Birdie stepped in his way to prevent him from trailing Diana to the bridge. “You know how to man a line?”
“Mainsheet or jib?”
“Start on the jib until we clear the harbor. Two hours on, two hours off.”
“Aye,” he murmured as Diana’s skirts disappeared below deck.
Shortly after dawn, they made port in Saint-Tropez to take on supplies. With only an hour of shore time, Ian didn’t bother stopping in at the dockside tavern for a bath—he’d be working lines again on his return to the ship. He bought a coffee and a fine buttered croissant at a café and made his way to the telegraph office.
When he returned to the yacht, Diana was waiting for him, wearing a detached expression. “Someone will track that wire.”
“Probably.”
“You at least have a code?”
“Do you have to ask?”
“Yes,” she said indignantly. Her lower lip protruded.
He couldn’t resist swiping it with his thumb. “You said I was in this. Trust me to work my end of it.”
His fingers had curled around her chin and, to his immense pleasure, she gripped his hand fiercely.
“Ian, you don’t know—”
“And whose fault is that?” He strained to keep his voice gentle, his caress tender. It was worth the effort when she looped her arms around his neck.
“I’m trying to protect you, you stubborn devil,” she murmured.
“It’s more dangerous keeping me in the dark.”
“I’min the dark.”
“I know. And it’s terrifying you.”
Her mouth twitched around a silent protest, but it never rose past her lips. Instead, her eyes took on a shine that made Ian feel things he didn’t think still lingered in his heart or his soul.
She met him halfway in a kiss. The wind had chilled her lips, but the swipe of her tongue brought heat and spice, and he let her take control because he knew she needed it. And because he was lost in her, too easily.
