Patricia Potter by Lightning

he’s rather pleased.”
    “He’s pleased with you and the attention,” Adrian corrected.
    Relieved that some of the tension was eased by Socrates’s antics, Lauren smiled. “How long have you had him?”
    “Nearly two years now.”
    “And where did you find him?”
    “A port in Spain.”
    Lauren looked down at the monkey, who seemed perfectly content at the moment. She needed to look away from eyes that scrutinized and a smile that beguiled. “How—”
    They were interrupted by Jeremy, who announced that dinner was ready and ushered them into the small dining room, where a table gleamed with silver and fine glassware.
    Adrian offered his arm with a regal formality that Lauren sensed came from experience in court and with nobility. It daunted her until his hand touched hers, and she felt heat spark there and creep up her arm. His grip was firm, even possessive, and from the way his hand tightened around hers she knew that he was feeling the same uneasy attraction that assaulted her.
    Dinner was a pleasant affair. Jeremy talked easily about politics and literature, and Lauren was impressed by Adrian Cabot’s range and breadth of knowledge.
    The subject turned inevitably to the war. As Mary refilled the wineglasses, Jeremy leaned back and looked at Adrian. “How long do you think you can continue running the blockade?”
    “As long as I have the Specter , and Johnny,” Adrian replied lightly. He turned to Lauren. “Johnny’s my pilot, and he knows every inlet, every river, every sandbar, and every wreck in the Charleston Harbor.”
    “Is the blockade so ineffective then?” she asked.
    Adrian’s tone turned serious. “No. A ship was lost this last week, and three the week before, and it looks as if Charleston might soon be closed. The Federals are attempting to take Morris Island, and if they do …”
    “Will you stop then?” Lauren fought to keep a hopeful note from her voice.
    Adrian shook his head. “I’ll move to Wilmington. Its Confederate coastal defenses are very strong. Once we get within their guns, we’re safe.”
    “But won’t there be more Union ships then?”
    “Yes,” he said. “But they cannot cover every inch of sea, and if there’s a fog bank or dark night, we can sneak through.”
    “But how do you know there will be fog?”
    Adrian grinned. “We pray a lot.”
    Lauren wanted to retort, but she held her tongue. Jeremy, as if reading her mind, asked another question.
    “You’ve had exceedingly good luck, Captain. How many runs now?”
    “A few more than twenty,” he replied, “but I don’t like to talk about luck.”
    “Tempting fate?” Lauren asked.
    “Something like that.”
    “Are you superstitious, Captain?”
    It was as if no one else was in the room. Their eyes were fixed on each other, her words a bit breathless and his a bit puzzled as he tried to decipher the singular, almost magical, aura that enveloped them.
    “All sailors are superstitious, Miss Bradley.”
    “Even those who are English lords?”
    “I can’t speak for English lords. I haven’t been one that long, and I fear I have little in common with most.”
    “But how does one come to our shores?”
    “Not all of us are wealthy, Miss Bradley.” His voice was curt, as if he wished the topic to end. “We, too, must earn our way. And,” he added quietly but firmly, “how do you like our island?”
    The spell was broken. Her eyes dropped from his. “It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen water like this before.”
    “No one has,” he said softly, then, with affection, added, “though it’s treacherous as blazes.”
    “Why?”
    Again their eyes caught. She asked more questions than any woman he’d ever met. He found it both intriguing and flattering since his experience had shown him that most women seemed to enjoy talking more about themselves. He was surprised at how much he was enjoying her.
    “Reefs, shallows, wreckers.”
    “Wreckers?”
    The corner of his mouth turned up in a quizzical