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“Oh, you aren’t stupid, Miss Cowan. Not in the least.” In fact, with enough instruction, she could have this small shipping outfit running with ship-shape precision.
A blush stained her cheeks. “I appreciate that confidence, Captain Grayson.”
“Bartholomew.” He pushed the door closed behind him. Not that they were likely to be interrupted. From what he’d seen from the handwritten log mounted to the wall behind the desk, her client roster was rather on the thin side.
“I beg your pardon?” Her brow creased with confusion.
“Call me by my Christian name, please. I’ve found I dislike the formality between us. It leaves a gulf.” Would she agree to the suggestion?
For long moments, she stared at him, assessing, questioning. Then she nodded. “Very well, Bartholomew. You may call me Felicity.”
Damnation, had his name ever sounded as pleasant as it did in her dulcet tones? “Your name means happiness.” It was the best descriptor for her; she certainly brought him that. As shock moved through him, he removed his greatcoat, top hat, and gloves then tossed them to a well-worn leather sofa sitting flush at one side of the cozy room. Quickly, he settled himself behind the cluttered desk. “You say a most recent shipment is missing?” He pulled various invoices and manifests toward him.
“Yes.” Miss Cowan drifted toward the desk and when she stood close enough to point out the damning evidence, her violet fragrance wafted to his nose and sent tiny fires into his blood. “See there?” She pointed to a line of handwriting. “Several items supposedly never made it into the port yet here they were listed as being put into the hold of the Monitor more than six months ago.” She tapped her finger against the manifest. “Why are these shipments not making it to this office?”
“Well, here’s part of your problem.” He couldn’t concentrate with her so close that the heat from her body radiated to him, for the ambient air temperature in the office was fairly chilly. A fire hadn’t been lit in the pot-bellied stove in the outer room nor in here. Attempting to ignore his growing reaction, he took up a brass-rimmed magnifying glass and hovered it above a signature. “This man, this Mr. Humphrey Anderson, is a thief of the first magnitude. It’s long been theorized he skims from every shipment he checks in coming through the Port.”
Felicity gasped. “How terrible! Can I stop it?”
“Certainly.”
“How?”
“We can pay the man a visit, and if he doesn’t come clean, I’ll convince him with my fists.” Bartholomew shrugged. His shoulder brushed her skirting. “He’s long been a problem because his father is high up in the Navy.” Then he moved the glass over her invoice. “In fact, I’ll call ‘round to my friend and former first mate. He and I can quickly take care of this on your behalf.”
“And remove me from the equation?” Annoyance threaded through her tones.
A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “No, teach you.” He looked through the magnifying glass. “And see here. The missing portion of your imports? This invoice says they came from a company in India that doesn’t exist any longer. The last time I was in that country, I saw for myself at least fifteen businesses along one of the wharves had burned down. Loyalists to one of the maharajas lit them all on fire, allegedly to teach the English a lesson.”
“Oh, no!” One of her hands drifted to her lips, which only directed his focus there. “Now what?”
“You stop using their services.” He set down the paperwork as well as the glass. “I can give you a listing of valid businesses that operate in a handful of ports and are run by decent men with good reputations and who are fair. That will help with some of your problems.”
“I would very much appreciate that.” Gratitude shone in the dark chocolate depths of her eyes. “Thank you.”
But he didn’t want her thankfulness. “You’re most welcome.”
Briefly, her gaze dipped to his mouth. A tiny shiver racked her shoulders, due to the chill in the air or his proximity? “This business is all I have left of my father. As much as I’m out of my depth more often than not, if I were to fail and lose it, I couldn’t live with that disappointment.”
“You’re quite determined when you wish, and bull-headed besides. You’ll succeed by sheer willpower, and if you don’t, sell the assets to someone who can truly revitalize the business. Your father wouldn’t mind.”
“But I would.” Mild distress sprang into her eyes to banish the temporary desire he’d spied there. “Cowan’s Imports is my future, for sooner or later, your mother will grow weary of my company.”
Perish the thought! “Don’t borrow trouble.” Then he couldn’t stand it any longer; he had to be closer to her, touch her, merely to banish her from his mind… or further lose that organ. Already, his hold on what was proper was fraying. “Come here.” Easily, he snaked an arm about her waist and pulled her to him.
“What are you about?”
“Wishing to teach you something more enjoyable than what’s found on shipping invoices.” Did that make him a cad to take advantage of their relative privacy… of her innocence?
“Oh?” Her eyes widened and when he eased a hand about her nape and tugged her down, she grasped his shoulder in an effort to retain her balance. “Bartholomew?”
Bloody hell. What is this spell she’s cast on me? He kissed her as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and this time she must have either anticipated him or was ready for the overture, for she met him much more boldly than yesterday. She returned his kiss, and the headiness of it sent clouds of desire into his head.
His pulse accelerated as he pulled slightly away to peer into her face. “All right?” His voice had dissolved into a rough whisper, for he wanted so much more than a kiss.
“Yes.” She was breathless. “Forgive my inexperience. You,” she looked away with a blush raging in her cheeks, “you are the first man to kiss me, and it’s rather mind-boggling.”
“I’m happy to teach you.” That was an understatement. “Shall we continue?” Need coursed down his spine to bury itself in his rapidly hardening shaft. He hadn’t felt this randy for a long time indeed, so why now and why with this innocent woman who’d attained such an age without being kissed?
