Page 111 of Scandalous

He took a step back. “Where did you come from?” he asked stupidly.

Her lips twisted into a bitter smile—an expression he’d never seen on her face before.

“I boarded the ship along with everyone else and hid until we were under way.”

“Are you mad?” He spun around. “I must turn the ship back and—”

“It’s too late, Martín.”

He turned on her. “Did you not read my letter, Sarah? I am wanted for murder!” He lowered his voice. “People might guess you are with me—your uncles, for one. As it is, I will have to take you to Lessing Hall and tolerate Ramsay’s meddling if he is to help shield you from scandal.”

“He already knows where I am. So does Daphne; so do my uncles. And yes, I read your letter. I don’t care that you are an accused murderer.”

“You don’t know what you are saying.”

She crossed her arms, but her lower lip trembled, making her brave stance a lie.

“Tell me you are glad to see me this instant or I will go directly to the crew berth and hang my hammock.”

Martín was on her in an instant. He gripped her upper arms. “You have a hammock? Tell me you have not been below with my crew.” His gut clenched at the thought of her in a roomful of randy, partially clad sailors.

“I have not been below with your crew.” She pulled away from him, her eyes blazing. “When will you realize the only man I’m interested in bunking with is you?”

Martín blinked.

She waved some crumpled sheets of paper in the air. “How could you?”

“How could I what?”

“How could you send me this letter?”

He squinted at the wadded ball of paper. “Why? What is wrong with my letter? Are there mistakes?”

She made a sound not dissimilar to that of an angry badger. “I’m not talking about the grammar, you idiot! I’m talking about the letter itself. How could you?”

“I did it for you. I told you already—I do not want your reputation to suffer.”

“I don’t care about my reputation,” she yelled back, just as loudly.

The cabin door opened a crack, and Jenkins looked through the narrow gap.

“Are you all right, miss?” he asked, his beady eyes flickering toward Martín and just as quickly flickering away.

“What the—” Martín began.

Sarah smiled sweetly at the little man. “Thank you, Mr. Jenkins, I’m fine.”

The door shut with a crisp click.

Martín swung around. “Who does he think he is? Does he think you need protection from me?”

“Don’t try to change the subject, Martín.”

“But—”

“You were so worried about my reputation suffering. Didn’t you think about me? About how I would suffer without you?”

Martín opened his mouth and then closed it. And then opened it again. “You would?”