Page 4 of Wicked Sea and Sky

“I learned from the best.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere. Except across this bridge. Stay here. I’ll toss you a line when I’m on the other side.”

Gavin dusted his hands on his trousers and worked the kinks out of his neck. He studied the gap, while I angled the moonstone to light his way. The beam only illuminated more cracks in the boards.

I tensed as Gavin gripped the rope. When he glanced over his shoulder, I forced a teasing smile.

“I’m going to remodel my master bedroom with your share,” I called out, trying to keep my voice steady as he took a wide step and planted a booted foot onto the closestboard.

He wobbled with the sway of the bridge and let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah? Tell me more about what my gold will buy.”

“Marble floors and a crystal chandelier hanging in front of a majestic fireplace. Glass doors will open up to a huge balcony with a stunning view of the sea.”

He took another step, gripping the tattered rope as if it could save him from a fall. The knots creaked, the sound fraying my nerves just as badly as the fibers straining beneath his weight.

“It’s too bad I’ll be dead. I’d love to see it. What else?”

“The main floor will have vaulted ceilings and a grand staircase with ornate railings. Rosewood, polished to a shine so I can see my reflection in—”

I gasped as he lost his footing. For a heart-stopping second, Gavin hung over open air, muscles locked as he clung to the rope. His feet scrambled for the next board. I lurched toward the bridge, ready to leap to the nearest plank. I had no plan, only the instinct to pull him back.

Gavin recovered before I could act, and when he caught me, the intensity of his gaze froze every bone in my body.

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled.

I lowered my boot as he flexed his fingers, rivulets of blood seeping from cuts in his palm.

“I’m thinking about cutting the rope,” I croaked, closing my shaking hands into fists. “It’s the only way I’ll be able to pay for my library.”

“Your library?” Gavin asked, shaking out his hand and stretching for the next plank as if he hadn’t just looked death in the eye and snarled.

“Yeah. I’ve always dreamed of having one. It’ll be the biggest room in the house. I’ll furnish it with velvet brocade chairs and a thick rug you can sink your toes into. There will be booksfrom floor to ceiling encased in hand-carved bookshelves. Adventure novels. Who knows, maybe I’ll write my own one day.”

“Marin Nichols—author. I like the sound of that. You’ll write stories in your mansion by the sea.” His voice took on a wistful note, in direct contrast to the rotted board listing beneath his feet.

My mansion by the sea.

I chanted the words in my mind, trying to stay focused. But the image crept in anyway—the one where we were together. Where I let myself believe his teasing meant something more. And that a coin flip proved I wasn't just a partner to him, but someone special. I imagined the cool salty air on my neck, warm sand between my toes, and Gavin chasing me into the waves, laughter bursting from my throat until my cheeks ached.

I blinked the daydream away, feeling silly. It was pure fantasy. Gavin wasn’t the settling-down type. He was a wanderer with no home or family, and he liked it that way.

But sometimes I wondered.

An orphan himself, he’d spent years going from hunt to hunt searching for information about his past. The weathered compass hanging from a chain around his neck, with the mysterious crest etched into the back, was his most prized possession and only clue.

Besides, even if I let down my guard and convinced him to give up the hunts and the thrill of danger, what did I have to offer? A crumbling manor, choked with weeds and probably crawling with snakes. Basically, a ruin with a roof and no jewels hidden in the foundation. And it wouldn't change his nature. Odds were, the second he got bored, he’d strip my newly restored manor of anything valuable. My crystal chandelierwould end up on the black market, sold for parts.

No, better to leave things as they were. I had my empty ruin. He had his hunts.

Gavin made it across the bridge, and my shoulders sagged in relief.

It was my turn.

But it wouldn’t be as difficult. All I had to do was follow in Gavin’s footsteps. He unwound a coil of sturdy rope and tossed it across the chasm.

“Tie the end around your waist and go slow. I’ll catch you if you fall.”

“If I die—” I shouted, only half-joking.