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“Do not if you expect me to answer.”
“I think you will answer because you are fond of the name.”
“How would you know that?” She folded her arms across her chest, drawing his eyes to her breasts that were shaped wonderfully by the low neckline of her peach lace dress.
“You would only give yourself a name you like. Something, I guess, you secretly wish someone would call you by.”
Elizabeth moved away from him, and he followed her. “You are wrong, My Lord.” She stopped by a model of one of his ships. “Is this one of yours?” she asked.
“Yes. Her name is the Red Bolt, and she is one of the fastest ships ever built. She was designed to easily evade pirate ships.” He was smiling as he explained, and she seemed to listen intently.
She leaned to inspect the small vessel, her hands touching the mahogany hull and red sails. “Did you give her that name because of her colors?”
“Yes,” he confirmed, impressed by both her interest and insight. “It was the first name that came to my mind when I saw her.”
“And she is your favorite ship, is she not?” she straightened and turned to face him.
“Also, the first,” he murmured.
“We tend to value our first possessions,” she mused. “Why do you suppose that is?”
“Maybe because they give us our first experience,” he answered.
She nodded and walked to the next ship she saw. “You are tolerable company when you choose to be, Rhys. Do you know that?”
“Now, I do, and I can say the same about you.” He walked slowly behind her with his hands clasped at his back.
She turned to look at him over her shoulder, smiling. “I knew you would say that.”
“Oh, you read thoughts?” His brows rose.
“Yes.”
“Will you teach me?”
“No.”
“But I would like to read your thoughts.”
She laughed. “Why would you want to read my thoughts? You would disagree with everything I think.”
“That is because your thoughts do not conform with most ladies’ thoughts.” Rhys immediately regretted saying that because her shoulders stiffened.
She stopped at the second ship, her slender fingers reaching for the black sails. “Then you must never learn to read my thoughts,” she said softly. “What do you call this ship?” she asked before he could react to her previous statement.
“The Lament,” he replied.
She turned to look at him, echoing, “The Lament?”
“It was originally called The Thief’s Lament, but I shortened it because the middle word became redundant. The ship has earned the reputation it was designed to. It has sunk over a dozen pirate ships in the Indian Ocean. It usually accompanies a ship with very valuable freight,” he explained, watching the ring around her pale-green irises darken with wonder.
Elizabeth turned to look at the ship again. “It is a battleship,” she whispered. “I did not see the details before.”
“There are three exactly like it in the Royal Navy but with white sails,” he told her.
She inclined her head and watched him for a moment. “You own the same battleship that the Royal Navy has. What exactly do you do in your company?”
A wide grin was his first response. People were more interested in what his company was worth than what it did, thus, he was happy to tell her exactly what he did. “I built the ships for the Royal Navy.”
