“As you spent many hours within these rooms, perhaps you might know where the documents may have been stored,” Epworth suggested.

  Her Grace frowned, then seemed to study the bookshelves. “I do know that some of those books aren’t in actuality books but contained compartments for other items or documents.”

  There were well over a hundred books on those shelves. “Then I guess we’d better get to it.”

  “Yes, you should,” Her Grace agreed, her tune more ducal than previously. “We’ve not much time. Guests have begun to arrive.”

  Without further word, the duchess turned on her heel and exited, taking the personal journal of Uncle Jonathan with her.

  Wesley glanced at the floor to ceiling shelves that took up the entire wall. How many were not real books and how many would they need to search before they found what they were looking for?

  “I guess we should get to it.” Miranda grinned.

  “But where to start?” Wesley wondered.

  “I’ll take this end, you the other, until we meet in the middle, or find the documents.”

  He was beginning to wonder why the documents were so important. It wasn’t as if they mattered. The treaty that had been broken was the most important one, and that situation was the one that needed to be rectified, even if it meant signing a new agreement.

  Except, Bocka Morrow was unlikely to agree to anything. Especially if Mr. Woodford had his way.

  The last thing either community needed was a competition to bring in more items from France. How soon before a Laswell ship was sunk. Then, Laswell would find a way to take a Bocka Morrow ship, even if they had to sail south to do so since no ship from Bocka Morrow would sail north. Actions by both would bring the Navy down upon them and they’d all suffer.

  He and Miranda worked in silence, each pulling books from the shelf, looking inside to make certain they were indeed books, before replacing them. He was making quick work of his shelves whereas she was not. For nearly every book, Miranda would hold the book away from her to read the title, then bring it very close to read the beginning before returning it to the shelf. Others, she stacked behind her. He’d noted the titles as well, but as they were mostly novels, Wesley had little interest. However, if there’d been scientific journals, he might have set them aside as well. No matter how old, there was something always to be discovered.

  It was odd, this working in silence. Normally, at least before that fateful day at Castle Keyvnor, he and Miranda had spent hours talking on nearly any subject. Sometimes they agreed, other times they argued, but in the end, it never really mattered who was right or who was wrong, because they were friends. Yes, he had wanted more. So much more, but what he missed the most, was his friend, and he’d ruined that friendship by kissing her. In turn, she had lied about why she didn’t attend the ball and Wesley could only determine that it was because she wanted nothing more than friendship, and was afraid to hurt him with rejection or regretted her actions in the clearing.

  It did no good to wish that he could change anything, or hope that her heart longed for him, but he would like to return to what they’d shared before he kissed Miranda. This strained silence between them was not pleasant and he hoped she missed him as much as he missed her.

  “Why are you keeping those books separate?”

  “They sound interesting.”

  “You can retrieve them later.” Why have a stack of books when she slept just beyond this room?

  “I might forget where they are shelved and need to search again. This way, I’ll know where to find them if I take them to my chamber.” She grinned. “I promise to return them when I’m done reading.”

  Wesley didn’t care one way or the other what she did with the books, as he didn’t own them. And, as the previous owner was dead, there was no concern that he’d object.

  He’d begun searching the top of the shelves, but Miranda had begun on the bottom, and soon she reached those that were above her reach.

  Wesley couldn’t help but smile as she stood on her tiptoes and tried to reach the next line of books. “I can get those for you,” he offered.

  “That’s not necessary.” She sniffed. “I’m not one who needs to rely on a gentleman for assistance.”

  Her words were true. Even though they’d conversed on many topics, she’d never needed him for anything. A part of him really liked that about Miranda, in that she was self-sufficient. But a man also liked to be needed by a woman, such as retrieving items that were out of reach.

  Instead of accepting his assistance, however, Miranda pulled the chair over so that she could stand upon it to search the top two shelves.

  “Please be careful,” Wesley insisted. Though the chair appeared to be sturdy enough, one wrong step could send her flying and possibly injuring herself.

  As she continued to inspect every book she pulled off the shelves, setting some aside and putting others away, Wesley made quick work of his, searching more than twice the books she had in the same amount of time. Even though they’d both found some that contained documents, they were not the ones they sought. However, what papers that were discovered were placed on the desk for further inspection later. As they’d been there for decades already, it was unlikely they needed to remain a secret.

  Chapter 11

  How had she not realized that Uncle Jonathan had so many interesting books? Her stack to read now contained ten such books and once the wedding guests were gone, Miranda had every intention of sitting outside on her new terrace, enjoying her tea and reading as the breeze swept in from the ocean.

  Sadly, they’d not yet found the documents they were looking for, and Epworth had looked in three times as many books as she and was now right next to her. And though the books had distracted her, so had Epworth. He’d removed his coat once he had to bend to get to the lower shelves and Miranda had been engrossed by the linen shirt stretched over his shoulders and around his biceps, as well as the view of his bottom when he bent over. Rarely had she been in a position to admire a gentlemanly form. Why, there wasn’t an ounce of excess on his being. Even his buttocks appeared muscular, and so did his thighs if the pull of his trousers were any indication.

  Goodness, it was getting warm in here.

  It was really a shame that they weren’t suited because it would be quite delightful to gaze upon him whenever she wished.

  Heat scorched her cheeks and Miranda quickly focused back on the task at hand. A proper miss would not be thinking of such. And she blamed her mother for her wayward thoughts.

  That woman had shielded her daughters from nothing. Not only had she taken more lovers than Miranda could count, and made no secret about it, but she’d explained, in more detail than Miranda ever cared to know, exactly what men and women did in the privacy of a bedchamber.

  For years, Miranda had put those discussions from her mind, but it was impossible not to recall what she’d learned when watching Epworth. Even his neck was strong, which she could now view as he’d discarded his cravat. And those hands…She shook the thoughts from her mind. She wasn’t wanton and she wasn’t anything like her mother. Lust would never rule her.

  Only one more shelf, the top one, and then they’d be done. Or this section would be complete and then she could help Epworth with what remained. And even though she now stood on a chair, Miranda still had to go up on her tiptoes to reach the remaining books. She wasn’t all that short, really. Even Epworth had difficulty reaching the top shelf though he hadn’t needed the use of a chair.

  Quit thinking of him! she chastised herself.

  With a deep breath, Miranda grabbed a thick red book from the end, prepared for the heaviness of the volume and instantly knew that it was a false book because it was far too light. As she came down on her heels, quicker than she anticipated, she lost her balance and took a step back, her foot slipping from the end of the chair. With a squeak, she tried to right herself but it was not to be and as she fell, Miranda anticipated a very unpleasant fall and prepared herself for impact, only to land in Epworth’s arms.

  “I’ve got you.”

  Goodness, this was a much more pleasant landing than she had anticipated.

  In fact, she quite liked being held by him, one of his arms beneath her knees and the other supporting her back.

  “Thank you.” She turned to look at him, their faces a few inches apart.

  Their eyes locked.

  “Yes…well…we can’t have you injured now can we.”

  Miranda was unable to look away. “No. I suppose not.” Why was her voice so airy all of a sudden? Had the fall stolen her breath, and was that the reason her pulse now sped?

  “Here, let me set you down. I’ll get the books on the top. It’s safer for you on the…”

  In an instant they were both falling with Epworth going backward, Miranda still in his arms until they landed quickly and hard.

  For a moment, Miranda was too stunned to move, even though she was sprawled upon his person. As she began to disengage herself and to make certain Epworth was uninjured, he tightened his arm around her back. She lifted her head. “Are you injured?”

  “No.” Then he laughed.

  “Are you certain?” How could he be laughing at a time like this?

  “Very certain.” Then his other hand came about the back of her head and before Miranda knew what was happening, his lips were on hers.

  She sighed. Oh, this was delightful indeed and she didn’t even attempt to pull away. Instead, she relaxed, enjoying the cushion of his body beneath hers. Despite his muscular form, Epworth was quite pleasant to lie upon, and oh, his kisses were just as bone-melting and delicious as they’d been three months ago.

  In a twist, Epworth rolled and in an instant, Miranda was beneath him, which she enjoyed very much. As his kiss deepened, Miranda threaded her fingers through his thick hair, holding him close.

  Maybe he did still care.

  Her heart soared. Perhaps all was not lost and did it really matter that he didn’t believe in ghosts. It was certainly a minor detail when the entirety of a relationship was concerned.

  As Epworth deepened the kiss and Miranda grew breathless and heated, she decided ghosts mattered not at all, especially when she was in his arms.

  At the clearing of a deep masculine throat, Miranda’s eyes popped open and she pulled back. Directly above Epworth stood Uncle Jonathan.

  He decided to show up now?

  Uncle Jonathan tisked and heat flooded her face.

  Epworth pulled back. “Is anything wrong?”

  “No. Yes…we shouldn’t…”

  “No. Of course,” he nearly stammered and pulled away from her person, then stood, nearly falling again.

  He bent to begin picking up the scattered books.

  “Oh, dear! That is why you tripped.”

  “Yes, though I can’t find a reason to complain.” His blue eyes twinkled with mischief.

  Goodness, if her face got any hotter, it would go up in flames. “Nor I.”

  He held out a hand and assisted her to her feet. “Though, I apologize. I should not have taken advantage of the situation.”

  Was he sorry for kissing her? “There is no need to apologize.”

  “I thought it necessary given the way you jerked away from me.”

  Miranda could tell him that it was because they were no longer alone, but Epworth wouldn’t believe her. He didn’t believe in ghosts.

  “I just realized where we were, alone, and didn’t wish to be caught if someone came in the room, like your grandmother.”

  Epworth gave a nod and took a step back. “Yes. Of course.”

  Miranda frowned. Why was he so stiff all of a sudden? They’d been relaxed only a moment ago.

  “Shall we see what is in the book that caused our downfall?”

  Downfall indeed. They nearly fell completely into sin, and that would never do.

  How could she have forgotten herself? Hadn’t she just reminded herself that she wouldn’t be ruled by lust? Yet, if they hadn’t been interrupted, how much would she have allowed? How much would she have experienced and enjoyed?

  Wesley could have remained on the floor of the Captain’s quarters for much longer, kissing and then caressing Miranda. He had even considered sweeping her up in his arms again and taking her to the chamber as Captain Vail had done to his grandmother. Thank goodness she’d come to her senses or he might have ruined her.

  That was just it. While he was warring with not taking any further advantage, she’d had enough.

  What did that say about them and what could it mean? Was she not as lost in passion as he?

  Did she simply enjoy kissing, but that was all she’d ever want or need?

  Of course, she had no idea what more there could be and perhaps that was the reason she pulled away.

  Though, by the way he was kissing her, it was a near seduction, and she’d ended it.

  Blast! He should just let it go and not think about it further. They were not suited and any further passion, seduction, or even kissing was unwise.

  Wesley unrolled the yellowed documents and hoped that they’d finally found what they were looking for so that they could be done with this quest and that he could be away from her. Not only did he need to get control of his thoughts, build a wall around his heart, but he needed to get his body under control. That was the reason he’d found a seat behind the desk, and why he’d turned his back to Miranda when he began gathering the books. When he helped her from the floor, she had the opportunity to notice exactly what their passion-filled kisses had done to him, but she hadn’t. Then again, Miranda was an innocent miss and wouldn’t think to note the change in his anatomy.

  As he read, Wesley’s eyes widened, and his stomach sank. Though there was one name that was familiar, he couldn’t recall why he knew it, or from which country or nation he ruled—King Merrik. Wesley was also certain it would come to him. However, the name wasn’t what troubled him.

  He read the documents a second time. They weren’t easy to read as some of the ink was faded, but they all said the same. He just wasn’t certain what Miranda’s reaction would be when she learned what must be done to bring peace between Bocka Morrow and Laswell again. Though it was possible the two villages wouldn’t require the same sacrifice, it was one that would renew trust.

  “What is it?” Miranda asked from the entry to the chamber.

  “I’ve found the documents.” Wesley held them out to her.

  “What is so dire?” she asked, coming forward. “Is there no hope for peace?”

  “Oh, there is hope.” Though to some, it wouldn’t be that much of a cost. At least, not for him, but he’d already determined that it would be for Miranda.

  Worry marred her brow as she took the documents from him and settled onto the settee to read. He watched her for a reaction but was denied such because she had to bring the documents too close to her face.

  She blew out a breath and let them drop to her lap. “Why don’t you just tell me what they say? The writing is too hard to read without my spectacles.”

  “In essence, they say that as long as a marriage links the two communities, peace will prevail. Peace did remain and was only broken by your great-uncle, but honored after the new treaty, even though he died.”

  “Yes, we know that already.”

  “What you don’t know is that marriage has been the requirement since the first treaty in 1573.”

  Her eyes widened. “Why?”

  “So long as there was a link between the two communities, they would protect and defend the other.”

  “Why was it necessary to begin with?”

  “Because of the Cilgrim family.”

  Miranda frowned again. “Cilgrim? Why do I know that name?” Then her eyes widened. “Yes, the Cilgrim family, notorious for seizing ships and taking cargo, and they didn’t hesitate to murder. Martha Cilgrim was the daughter of a pirate and was rumored to be ruthless, and eventually hung from the gallows for her crimes.” Miranda warmed to a topic she once knew well because it had fascinated her—a lady pirate. “Back then, several ships sailed out of Bocka Morrow and Laswell, merchant ships. That was before both communities turned to smuggling.”

  “The very Cilgrims,” Wesley agreed. “After Martha Cilgrim took a Bocka Morrow ship and then a Laswell ship, the merchants and captains gathered to discuss how to best avoid or protect themselves from the pirates.”

  “That is when they signed the treaty?” Miranda asked.

  “Yes,” Wesley answered. “But there is more.”

  She leaned forward; grey eyes wide with anticipation.

  “Though they feared the Cilgrims, and needed each other, there was a lack of trust also. At one time, both had trusted the Cilgrims to protect them, which did not happen, so they were careful as to how much they trusted anyone else.”

  “It would be difficult to trust again,” Miranda mused. “But, neither community harbored pirates, cutthroats, or thieves either, did they?”

  “No.” Wesley chuckled at her description. “Pirates weren’t their only concern, however. Apparently, the seas had been rough for a number of years as well. The more superstitious of those at the gathering blamed Endellion, the Sea God of Cornwall.” Wesley tried not to smirk because he didn’t wish to get into another argument with Miranda. “They believed he was angry at the violence caused by the Cilgrim family and believed a pact of peace between the two communities, separated by miles of sea, would bring calm, and if they promised no violence, he would protect their ships while in his waters. They also hoped that Endellion would bring about the end of the Cilgrim family. To show their loyalty, ships sailed to the center of the Celtic sea and a bride from Bocka Morrow, married a groom from Laswell. And, before the next treaty was signed, the Cilgrim family had lost all of their ships that had once sailed the waters.

  At one time, he’d shared that same fascination with Endellion and the hidden kingdom of Atargatis. He’d also been a child and outgrew believing in fairy tales. Wesley watched her carefully. Since Miranda believed in ghosts, would she believe that a mythical god had a hand in the peace and that Endellion had destroyed Cigrim ships?