She lifted her chin. “It doesn’t matter where it came from. I’m offering it to you in exchange for passage. That’s fair isn’t it?”
Before he could answer, a shout rang down the lane.
“Where did the bastard go?”
Evan spun to stare back up the path. Alec and David were staggering out of the inn, weapons glinting in their hands. Damn it. No more time to weigh options.
Evan snatched the locket from Ruby’s hand. “Done.”
He caught her arm and yanked her behind a stack of barrels reeking of tar and salted fish. Ruby’s breath came fast and shallow, her shoulder pressed against his. Evan peered through the gap between the barrels, watching Alec and David stumble down the path and past their hiding place, muttering curses.
Evan clenched his teeth. Today had been an unmitigated disaster. He’d lost a lucrative deal and now he had tied himself to a woman who’d already ruined one day’s work.
And he had the sinking feeling she was only getting started.
RUBY WASN’T QUITE SUREwhy she felt so relieved that Evan Campbell had agreed to help her. He hadn’t been exactlywelcoming and he certainly wasn’t polite, but if he could get her off this island and to Charlie, she could put up with his arrogant manner.
His intense gaze was fixed on Scarred-Face and Red-Hair out on the wharf and he wasn’t paying her any attention. He was clean shaven and his high cheekbones gave his face the sculpted look that magazines seemed to so adore. Add to that the curly, wind-blown look of his hair, and she guessed Evan Campbell probably had women lining up.
Just like Daniel. He’d been handsome and charming too but that façade had hidden a rotten core. Was Evan Campbell the same? Probably.
Scarred-Face and Red-Hair walked off into the distance and Evan straightened from behind the barrels. “They’ll be back,” he muttered. “Best not linger.”
Ruby nodded, brushing strands of hair out of her face. The sea wind had tangled it into an impossible mess, and she’d neglected to bring a hairbrush. Or anything, actually. “Where do we go?”
He cast her a sideways glance, then jerked his chin toward a narrow lane that sloped down toward the beach. “This way.”
She followed him, her dress snagging on stones and splinters of driftwood as the path grew sandy underfoot. The air thickened with the smell of brine and seaweed, the rhythmic crash of waves filling her ears.
Evan shot her a look over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching with what might have been amusement. “The mainland’s just across the strait,” he told her. “Not half a morning’s sail, if the wind’s with us.”
“Oh.” Relief fluttered in her chest. “Good. That’s good.”
They reached the end of the trail and stepped down onto the beach. It stretched wide and empty before them, dark sand speckled with shells and drying kelp. Boats dotted the shallows—sturdy fishing craft with nets piled in their bellies, their wooden hulls creaking gently with the tide.
Evan strode straight to the nearest boat, untied the mooring rope, and shoved the prow out into the water.
Ruby stared. “Wait! What are you doing? You can’t take that! It belongs to someone.”
He turned his head, sandy curls falling into his eyes, and gave her a flat look. “Aye. To us. For the next few hours.”
She blinked. “But...that’s stealing!”
“Borrowing,” he corrected smoothly, already hauling himself aboard. “I’ll return it...someday.”
Ruby planted her hands on her hips, outraged. “I amnotgetting into a stolen boat!”
“Then stay here,” he said, reaching for the oars. “Or trek to the other side of the island where my own boat is moored. Yer choice. But when Alec and David come sniffing back this way, dinna expect me to turn around for ye.”
A shout rose up from the trail. Ruby spun to see two broad-shouldered fishermen storming toward them. Their faces were thunderous, and one carried a gaff hook that looked like it could gut a man as easily as a fish.
“Oi! That’s our boat!”
Ruby’s heart leapt into her throat.
“Lass,” Evan said, his voice calm even as the fishermen broke into a run, “this would be a fine time to set aside yer principles.”
Ruby hesitated for one heartbeat—then scrambled through the surf, skirts hiked, feet slipping on wet sand. She tumbled inelegantly into the boat just as Evan pulled on the oars, slipping them into deeper water.
