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“I find I do,” he replied casually, though his voice dropped, soft and unguarded. “Especially when the prize carries such… rare allure.”

Her eyes searched his, and for a brief, suspended second, the game stilled; their words softened, their barriers slipping into something unspoken but deeply felt. Until she inhaled, breaking the moment and tilting her head, mock-seriousness painting her features.

“Your move, Captain.”

The flirtation resumed its rhythm, yet now, an undercurrent of shared truth threaded between the laughs, something fragile yet undeniable.

The horizon blurred into evening light, but Alex barely noticed.

For all his efforts to explore the vast ocean, it seemed the one mystery worth solving stood merely feet before him, more untamed than the sea itself.

A smile tugged at his lips. “My tigress,” he said.

She was fierce, that much was clear. It spoke of independence, of strength, and perhaps a hint of something more delicate beneath.

Tigers, for all their ferocity, were solitary creatures, which granted, she had been since they met.

They roamed alone. That same solitude, he thought, might echo in her answer.

Was her defiance a shield against the loneliness that came with refusing to let others in?

Or did it reflect how fiercely she protected herself, unwilling to risk the kind of weakness that came from depending on anyone else?

Interesting.

“You certainly are fierce,” he murmured. “And you don’t like the water, just like a big cat.”

“And you?” she asked, a spark of curiosity lighting her eyes. “What animal would you be? A fish, perhaps? Since you seem so at home in the water.”

He pretended to look wounded. “A fish? I’m offended. Can’t you tell? I’d be an eagle.”

Her brow arched. “An eagle? How very noble.”

“Not noble,” he corrected. “Just practical. They soar above it all, seeing everything from above. It’s always in control.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Then you enjoy being in control.”

“Always.”

It wasn’t just the majesty of the eagle that appealed to him—it was the way it moved through the world with an innate sovereignty, effortlessly commanding respect.

But perhaps, deep down, his choice stemmed from a yearning to rise above all that constrained him, to seek the freedom he had long accepted as lost.

She studied him for a moment, clearly assessing his words. “Well, I suppose I can see it, though you seem more like a carp than an eagle in my eyes.”

He chuckled softly. “Perhaps I do have a touch of carp in me.”

Perhaps a bit of love, too.

As if hearing his thoughts, a gust of wind blew into the sails.

*

Sera’s stomach tightened.

“Don’t worry.”

She wasn’t going to, but he must have glimpsed the ashen look on her face.

“I’m fine. Entirely fine,” she replied in a high, strained voice that felt anything but fine. A sharp gust of wind filled the sails, and the boat tilted gently to one side, creaking as it sliced through the waves. A muffled groan escaped her lips.

“What’s so funny about this? The rocking of the boat or that I almost fell out?”

He burst out laughing but felt a pinch of guilt. He’d brought her here to share the sunrise over the sea and, hopefully, to help her overcome any fear lingering in her heart. He didn’t mean to traumatize her. “You didn’t almost fall out at all.”

“How would you know?”

“First of all, I wouldn’t allow it. Second, you’re about three feet from the bulwark.”

Her fingers clutched the smooth curve of the bulwark, its polished wood a cool, solid anchor against the jarring sensation of the wind ripping at the sails.

To her, it wasn’t just a part of the cutter’s structure; it was a lifeline.

She glanced at Alex—oh, so confident and capable, his focus flitting between the sails and her—as if he’d notice the slightest tremor in her small finger.

A flicker of warmth curled through her chest.

If she slipped, if the sea claimed her balance, he would save her again. She knew it as surely as she feared the water beneath them.

Her gaze lingered longer than it should on the clean, deliberate set of his shoulders, the seemingly effortless strength in how he moved.

Everything about him—the precision of his stride as they walked the uneven path, or how his arm extended to steady her over a slippery rock—spoke of power wrapped in grace.

He didn’t lumber or stomp; no, Alex was made of control.

Every movement was aligned, smooth, and swift, as though nothing in the world could weigh him down.

Yet his eyes told a different story, and that contradiction opened something within her.

There was a heaviness to his gaze, a shadow that flitted there even in moments of laughter.

For all his easy, almost careless physicality, that look had struck her—deep and painfully familiar, like the loneliness of a half-forgotten dream.

She didn’t need to know what burden he bore; all she knew was the aching wish to share it.

To take on some of that hidden weight if only she could.

And yet, when his eyes landed on hers, the darkness in them shifted. It softened, just for her.

Was that wishful thinking?

She didn’t believe so.

She trusted him more than she thought she could trust anyone.

It hadn’t started with him saving her life—though that day had etched itself into her memory.

The raw strength in his hands as he pulled her from that perilous depth.

The steadiness of his voice as he whispered reassurances, words that wrapped her trembling body in a calm she hadn’t known she could feel while so close to danger.

It wasn’t just that Alex had saved her; it was how he had done so.

Not as a prince or protector, not because it was his duty—but because he simply couldn’t choose otherwise.

She’d felt it like an unshakable truth.

And since then, being near him felt like safety itself.

But it wasn’t just safety Sera craved. Oh no, her heart didn’t flutter for simple comfort.

The maddening part of Alex was how he left her completely unsettled.

It was his hair, always slightly unruly at the edges, at odds with the precision of his tone and the rigid posture that seemed to be carved into him.

She’d wanted to reach out and brush that errant strand from his brow.

But reassurance didn’t erase unease.

The shoreline in the distance felt impossibly far, and the ocean seemed both magnificent and threatening.

Awe warred with trepidation, her earlier courage cracking under the immensity of it all.

Only he gave her comfort, and she drew strength from the way he moved, his practiced ease.

Even so, her heart whispered for the steady embrace of arms.

You are hopeless, Sera!

“We’re awfully far from shore,” she said.

“Not all hope is lost far.” Then he winked at her.

Her heart fluttered.

Oh no, that made it even worse because her stomach seemed to twist. Sera glanced back toward the shore. Cornwall was a small, jagged line against the pale blue horizon now, growing fainter as they sailed farther out. The open sea stretched endlessly before them, and she swallowed her fear.

I am in charge.

Alex tightened a line and tested its pull, the movement smooth from what seemed like years of practice, even though he was so young. She inwardly snorted. Right. He must be a man of the sea. Probably a smuggler!

And if she could be his pirate bride, she’d rather live a life on the run with him than be locked in an ivory tower with a prince she didn’t want.

I want you, Alex.

“An interesting plan for an outing.”

“I’ll have you know, this entire excursion is part of a very well-thought-out plan,” Alex said, his grin widening.

“Enlighten me.”

“Step one: take you out on the water. Step two: charm you with my undeniable wit. Step three…” He trailed off, his gaze locking with hers. For a moment, the playful banter gave way to something more flirtatious.

“Step three better involve getting me back to shore in one piece,” she muttered.

He chuckled, his grip tightening on the tiller. “Consider it done.”

The cutter dipped slightly as the wind shifted, and Sera’s hand shot out instinctively, her fingers curling around the edge of the bench.

But he steadied the boat with ease, his movements confident.

His hand tightened on the tiller, coaxing it with a precise adjustment, while his booted foot pressed against the deck to counterbalance the shift.

The muscles in his shoulders and forearms flexed with practiced control, every motion instinctive, as though the cutter were simply an extension of his body.

The creak of the wood beneath him and the snap of the sails above were familiar notes in a symphony he’d mastered long ago.

“You’re safe with me,” he said, his voice low and reassuring.

She glanced at him. “I suppose I don’t have much of a choice.”

“No,” he agreed. “But I like to think you’d choose to trust me anyway.”

She rolled her eyes, but the hint of a smile on her lips betrayed her. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re unforgettable,” he replied, his gaze lingering on her for just a moment too long before he turned his attention back to the sea.

A hint of sadness bubbled up in her chest because she never wanted to be away from him, locked in some castle where she would have to forget this. Him. She willed the thoughts away.

“I am terrified.” In more ways than one.

“Terrified?” He feigned shock. “You, the tigress?”

She tilted her head toward him. “If I were a tigress, I’d be pacing the deck, demanding you turn this thing around. I don’t think tigers like being on boats. Besides, I’ve yet to find my sea legs. They seem to be lagging behind.”

The boat pitched again, a larger wave sending a spray of saltwater across the deck. Sera startled, gripping the bench, gasping.