Page 6 of Spar of Hearts

“Oh there’s tension all right.” An almost playful growl rolled in her throat. The crowd, unable to overhear much anymore, returned to their revelry. Anya yanked him by the shirt collar, just inches from her enchantingly golden eyes. “Come with me, and I’ll show you just what kind.”

His face grew hot. He didn’t think it would go quite this well. But what kind of gentleman would he be if he questioned her desires? If she wanted some fun, he’d happily oblige.

“Aye aye!” He grinned. She released him and strolled toward the vacant stern, her hands grasped tightly behind her back. Her simple dress flowed effortlessly as she walked. She was clearly a woman of practicality: no frills.

The bow was dark, save for the moonlight above and below, reflecting off the shimmering waters. She stepped to the side and leaned her back against the baluster again, arms lazily placed on either side of her atop the wooden rail. She was practically dangling herself in front of him.

Roderick slipped his arms on either side of her, bracing them on the edge so she was completely ensconced by him.

“So—” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek. She didn’t flinch like Millicent always had. That was a good sign. “What were you saying about tension?”

“I need you to help me relieve it,” she whispered, running a claw up his chest. He shivered at her touch. He was ready to take her down to his cabin and show her an unforgettable night.

“By all means, do with me what you like.” He ran his tongue over his fangs. “I take it your answer to my question is yes?”

“My answer…” She brought her lips to his ear. Every syllable was crystal clear. “Is that you’re an insufferable, self-absorbed rake.”

Then she threw him overboard.

Chapter 3

Anya Delemond

Anya peered over the baluster. To the Lord’s credit, he was swimming rather well.

“Anya! What the devil was that for?!” Lord Bryson yelled between strokes.

“Consider it payment for your weeks of insubordination!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about! Throw me a rope!”

Of course he didn’t. He was far too in love with himself and distracted by the shining trophy he’d tried to turn her into. Still, the Duke of Eldenkeep would be rather upset to find his Earl had become a bobbing icicle in the sea. Best to haul him up, for diplomacy’s sake.

She reluctantly unraveled a rope and tossed it down.

“Take it before I change my mind!”

Lord Bryson grasped the rope and climbed with admittedly impressive stamina for a man who was just submerged in freezing water.

Is it not obvious, she thought mockingly. She heaved the rope in smooth, long pulls, puffing a strand of her from her face. Obvious that you’re no different than the rest of my suitors. Poison ivy trying to climb the Princess so you can sit beside the throne.

He was nearly aboard again. She reached a clawed hand out to him. “Hurry up. I am sure you’d rather your subordinates not see you like this.”

“I am not ashamed to be rescued by a woman.”

He grunted and grasped the baluster, vaulting himself atop it and onto the deck with a sloshing thump.

“That is the most sensible thing I have ever heard you say.”

“Apparently I am not a sensible man.” He stood and slicked back his persimmon hair, then wrung out his red, one-shouldered cape. “Thank you for awakening my better judgment.”

“Ha! Next you will say you were only jesting.”

He straightened his soaking collar. “Maybe I was. After all, I am a master at living a lie. But you wouldn’t understand that, would you?”

A growl rolled in her throat. “One more word and I will throw you back in, you scoundrel. I swear on the—”

“My Lord!” Sir Oshfeldt’s eyes widened as he tore up the steps to the bow. Anya snapped her jaw shut. “Am I—interrupting something? Why are you soaking wet?”