“Happy now?”
“Maybe.”
I adjusted my glare in the direction of his voice, scowling harder. Perhaps his eyesight was better than my own, for he seemed to read my expression in the dark and huffed a dry laugh.
“Well, maybe I am. At least I can count on your undivided attention. On five minutes without you running off to dress a bed or serve a pint, or —”
“Gods, are youthatunfamiliar with an honest day’s work?”
“Ah yes,working,” he laughed. “You’ve said that. Working. Personally, I think you’re hiding.”
“I’ve already told you I’m not afraid of you. Why would I need to hide?”
A pause.
“That’s what I’d like to know.”
The soft way he spoke the words didn’t sound accusatory, but I fought to keep my breath even. In, out; shallow and steady, no air to stir the fire. My eyes had adjusted slightly to the dark, enough that I could make out the faint outline of him as he moved closer. In the crack of light filtering weakly through the doorframe, I swore his throat bobbed; swore I heard the pained swallow.
“Why do I need to be locked in a cupboard with you before you’ll speak to me, Rosie?”
An odd sensation spilled throughout my chest, a warm unspooling, as though my magic were rousing and sleepily stretching its fiery limbs.Not now.I massaged my sternum absently, then quickly dropped my hand just in case he reallycouldsee better than I did.
“Maybe it’s because you keep calling meRosie,” I said. My voice did not come out nearly as firm, nor as sharp, as I would have liked.
“What’s wrong withRosie? It suits you. Pretty as a flower, just waiting to be –”
“If you say ‘plucked’, Captain, you can expect a knee to the balls.”
He chuckled.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Rosie.”
“Rosaleen.”
He laughed again, and the sound was bright and unguarded. I made myself scowl into the shadows, even as my magic stirred like leaves on a sunlit breeze.
“What?”
“Thatis precisely why I do it. I call you Rosie because it’s just about the only thing guaranteed to get a reaction.”
I stared at his dim outline, the edge of his cheek curved inward and hinting at a smug smile I couldn’t see.
“You’ve been going out of your way to irritate me because, what – you want my attention? Gods alive, why not just yank on my pigtails next time?”
A soft, amused breath, paired with the steady scuff of his boots drawing closer. I curled my fingers around the shelf behind me as my breath caught, desperately needing an anchor, something stable. Especially when he spoke, and his voice had suddenly dropped several octaves.
“If you want me to pull your hair, you need only ask.”
The image flashed unbidden at the fore of my mind, all the more vibrant in the dark. The Captain behind me, my hair wound like a golden cuff around his wrist, his fingers splayed at my waist—
My stomach flipped, then turned molten. Why was I entertaining the thought for even a moment? This absolutely could not happen.
“Not a hope.” My breath was a tremor.
“Is that so?”
I didn’t answer. Too soft, too close; his voice resonated in my chest, stirring my Flame, teasing at it with each lovely lilt. By the slight stutter in the light slitting through the door, I thought he might have nodded to himself, something confirmed. Or perhaps he’d moved closer. Both, I realised, when warmth spread through my chest, not just from within my own ribs but from the wall of his body before mine.
