She did, frozen as he raised one hand to the side of her face, fingers lightly tracing as he teased a thread of cobweb from the fine hair at her temple. Then his eyes tracked across her face. With his other hand, he delicately untangled a last fine strand from beside her ear.
His eyes locked with hers. Midnight blue, his gaze was sharp, sure. His hands were still raised; if he moved both an inch inward, he’d be cradling her face.
After a moment, he murmured, “That’s it, for now.”
Lowering his hands, he stepped back.
She breathed in, quickly turning away to conceal how desperate she was for air. “If we go around to the garden door, it’ll look like we’ve just arrived.” She started off as she spoke, embarrassed that after all these years, she still couldn’t control her reaction to him, her wayward senses.
He prowled beside her, blessedly silent.
Her stage setting proved inspired; as they walked into the front hall from the direction of the stables, Nicholas came down the stairs.
She looked up. “Good morning, Nicholas.”
“Penelope.” Gaining the hall, he nodded in greeting, his gaze shifting immediately to Charles.
Who smiled. “Good morning, Arbry.”
“Lostwithiel.”
A pregnant pause.
“I’ve offered Charles the use of Papa’s maps,” she cheerily announced—anything to bring their masculine eyeing contest to an end. “We’ve just come to fetch them. They’re in the library—we won’t disturb you.”
Charles hid a grin at her phrasing; she’d already disturbed Nicholas greatly, no matter he concealed it well.
“Maps?” Nicholas hesitated, then asked, “What sort of maps?”
“Of the area.” Turning, Penny led the way to the library.
As Charles had hoped, Nicholas followed.
Flinging the double doors of the library wide, Penny sailed through. “Papa had a wonderfully detailed set showing every little stream and inlet all along this stretch of coast. Invaluable if one wishes to scout the area thoroughly.”
She made for a bookcase at the end of the long room. “They were somewhere around here, I believe.”
Nicholas watched as she crouched, studying the large folios housed on the bottommost shelf. Hanging back, Charles studied his face; Nicholas was reasonably skilled in hiding his thoughts, but rather less adept at hiding his reactions. His pale features, clean-cut and patrician, remained studiously expressionless, yet his eyes, and his hands, were more revealing.
His fingers plucked restlessly at his watch chain as, a frown in his eyes, he tried to decide what to do.
In the end, he glanced at Charles. “I take it there’s evidence the smugglers in this area were involved in passing secrets?”
Charles smiled one of his predatory smiles. “Finding the evidence is what I’ve been sent here to do, so we can follow it back to the traitor involved.”
Was it his imagination, or did Nicholas’s pale face grow a touch paler?
Looking down, Nicholas frowned. “If there’s no real evidence…well, isn’t it likely you’re simply chasing hares?”
His grin grew intent. “Whitehall expects its minions to be thorough.” He glanced at one of the two six-foot-long display cases flanking the library’s central carpet. “If after I’ve shaken every tree and turned every stone, no substantiating evidence is forthcoming, then doubtless it’ll be concluded that there was no truth in the information received.”
“Here they are.” Penny pulled a thick folio from the shelf; cradling it in her arms, she rose and went to the desk.
Laying the heavy tome down, she opened it. Nicholas went to look; Charles followed.
“See?” With one finger, Penny traced the fine lines of the highly detailed hand-drawn maps. “These show every little inlet along the estuary and the nearby coast.” She looked up at him, transparently delighted at having found such a valuable tool to aid him. “With these, you can be certain you’re not missing any of the landing places.”
“Excellent.” Reaching out, he turned the book his way, then shut it and picked it up. “Thank you—these will indeed help enormously.”