“How convenient that would be for me, wouldn’t it? If I could pretend all this pesky possessiveness was just the magic’s influence, and without it I’m actually quite a reasonable chap.” Wesley’s hand lingered on Sebastian’s hip a few seconds longer than was appropriate for public. “But no, I’m a bastard through and through. Do you imagine the streets are full of men willing to sacrifice the literal magic in their veins to save my life? You’re irreplaceable, Sebastian. And your lion is mine more than ever now.”
Sebastian swallowed again, his throat suddenly tight.
Wesley pulled a little ways back. “Anyway, all of this is exactly why emotions are terrible and ought to be abolished,” he said softly. “But you should never doubt that you have my complete trust. And you’re a gorgeousdancer who’s going to teach me to tango someday so I can toss you around.”
Sebastian huffed a laugh. “I’m too big for that.”
“Youwishyou were too big for that.” Wesley took a full step back. “All right, you can pick up the gun now. But return to this exact position again, holding it with both hands and aiming off the stern.”
Once Sebastian was armed and facing the sea, Wesley stepped forward to help with tiny adjustments, and Sebastian focused on learning the scant centimeters that made up the difference between what he’d thought was right versus Wesley’s expertise.
Finally, Wesley stepped to the side. “I’m not launching quite yet. Look down the barrel. Keep your gaze open and alert so you’re ready for wherever the trap goes.”
Sebastian focused on the sky, on the churning white waves of the wake disappearing behind the ship.
“Good,” Wesley said. “When you’re ready, take one more breath. Then I’ll throw the trap.”
Sebastian took a breath, taking in the scents of the sea and the ship and gunpowder, and let it out.
Wesley pulled the level, and the clay disk flew up into the sky. Sebastian tracked it, then fired.
And this time, he clipped it—and no, it wasn’t a perfect shot, but he’d hit the damn thing.
“Yes.” Sebastian looked over his shoulder, grinning. “Did you see that?”
“I did.” Wesley had a small smile of his own.
“Would Captain Collins have been happy with that?”
“Captain Collins would have been completely distractedby that smile of yours and thoughts of how he could have gotten you into his tent,” Wesley said bluntly. “Now do it again until we run out of traps.”
Chapter Nine
Hot under the collarwas another expression Wesley had known with certainty was hyperbole—until he’d met Sebastian.
“I clipped the trap three times in a row, at the end.” Sebastian was smiling at him over their poached sole. “Maybe next time I’ll hit it dead on.”
Once again, other passengers were sneaking glances at their table, or more accurately, at Sebastian, who was criminally attractive in his dinner jacket and black bow tie high around his collar. Meanwhile, Wesley’s own collar felt near to melting from the heat that rose every time Sebastian smiled in his direction. “You improved,” he allowed.
“Because you are such a good teacher.” Sebastian’s smile turned a little more playful. “Very good at being strict and bossy when someone is asking for it.”
Wesleyhadbeen strict and bossy, and despite not having his magic, Sebastian had stayed comfortable with it the entire time.
“You’re kind of asking for it now,” Wesley said meaningfully.
Sebastian grinned. Wesley would have found this kind of flirting heady enough on its own, but seeingSebastian look like he was enjoying it, knowing how much trust that took—a deeply hard-won trust that Sebastian didn’t give to anyone but Wesley—
Christ, if only they didn’t have to worry about a plot to destroy magic, and two missing relics, and possibly Lady Nora. Wesley and Sebastian had spent most of the afternoon on the deck, joined by six or seven other hardy souls at different points, but Lady Nora’s companion, Dr. Wright, never showed. Now there was no sign of either of them in the dining lounge. It almost felt like they didn’t want to be seen.
“Excuse me, Lord Fine?” An attendant in black tie had approached their table politely. He had an envelope in one hand. “We’ve had a message for you from another passenger on the ship, in second class. Would you like to take it?”
Wesley took the envelope from the attendant as Sebastian leaned in. “Is it from Arthur and Rory?”
Wesley nodded, scanning Arthur’s message. “Ace says he and Brodigan are going to be in the second-class smoking lounge this evening, if we can sneak in.”
“I bet we can.” Sebastian had a thoughtful expression. “Do you still have the seasickness pills Lady Nora gave you?”
“In my room,” said Wesley. “I can certainly offer them to Brodigan, but I think it’s a fairly safe bet that Arthur bought him twenty packs already.”
