Page 94 of A Scot Is Not Enough

“This is promising. A muster roll dated 1750.”

She shelved the book. “What is a muster roll?”

“Something Parliament requires. Ships must file reports with the Seaman’s Fund Receivers upon return.” His gaze met hers above the book. “It’s a list... ship’s owners, sailors, and so forth. Sailors pay a tax of 6 d for each month they’re out to sea. Been that way since ’47.”

“Taxes,” she scoffed. “The Government gets you one way or another.”

He studied the ledger, his mouth denting sideways. His adorable half smile was her undoing. It was hard to say if his mouth was more appealing in the shadows or in the light. He kissed equally well in both circumstances.

“Look at this.” Alexander set the book on the floor.

Excitement flared in his eyes and she let herself simply feel. To hear the noise of howling wind and thrill at huddling close to him. Shadows drew Alexander with new symmetry, a different man than the one she’d found in her mews. He was truly a partner in this madness. She couldn’t help but stare in wonder and give this new equation time to nestle in her heart.

Every part of her cried out,Yes... him.

“Look at this.” He was tapping the page like an impatient tutor.

She looked down.

Sailor hired in Antwerp, Monsieur Abbé. 12 September 1750

Next to the entry, the column for his pay was blank.

“Abbé,”she huffed. French for abbot.

“It was clever to not pay him. This, I collect, is the only record of his journey.”

The East Indiaman’s details were at the top. TheRebecca, it was, and the Countess of Denton was one-third owner. Her brother and the Duchess of Ranleigh owned the remaining two-thirds.

Her pulse jumped. “Is this enough?”

He tore the page from the ledger. “It’s a very good beginning. We follow the trail, we build a case.”

“You’re thinking like a barrister.”

She closed the book and returned it to the shelf. They were still on their knees when Alexander folded the page in fourths and gave it to her.

“You should keep this,” he said.

She stuffed the paper in her pocket and set her hand over her heart as if he’d given her a token of courtship.

“Thank you for this. For everything.”

“You are the brave one,” he said. “Enduring—”

She pressed her mouth to his, fast and startling, a bit ungraceful and flavored with coal dust. Theirmouths weren’t moving, though his hand crept up her arm. Solid, reassuring. It landed on the same shoulder he’d kissed with smoldering passion.

Desire ripped through her. But they were in a cold warehouse, and her kiss missed the mark.

They pulled apart, him blinking at her. She was clutching the open ends of his coat.

“You were right there...”

“I am.”

“And I thought I should kiss you,” she said a little breathless. “But I’ve shocked you, haven’t I?”

“In a good way.” His tenor was humored.