The Girl from Everywhere (The Girl from Everywhere #1)(59)

“That’s not it,” I said. “I’ve tried to speak to him many times, but he will not be swayed.”

Blake’s slapped his hat against his thigh. “Why on earth is that map so valuable to him? I could do one similar in half an hour.”

“Similar, but not the same,” I said carefully. “The original is a . . . connection to my mother. It was drawn while she was still alive.”

He looked at me closely, his eyes the hard blue of sea ice. “Quite a lot of money to spend for something of sentimental value.”

Why was he so damnably observant? I shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “They say love makes fools of us all.”

His gaze was like a harpoon; I couldn’t look away. “They do say that.” He was quiet for a moment as I glanced from his face, to the sea, then back, and away again. “Miss Song,” he said finally. “There is some mystery here.”

“I can’t think what it might be,” I said breezily.

“I can’t either.” He cocked his head, studying me. The late afternoon sunlight shone in his hair like a crown. Suddenly he smiled. “But it’s very intriguing.”

I blinked. “Oh?”

“And it has been from the very first day you arrived. Under other circumstances, Miss Song, I may have come to the ship to make a very different appeal to your father.”

My eyes widened, and there was a feeling in my stomach then, like small fish leaping. These were uncharted waters, treacherous and strangely tempting. “Mr. Hart—” Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw a familiar pair returning to the ship. “You shouldn’t be here.”

He stiffened, chagrined. “I apologize for my boldness.”

“No, I mean—you really shouldn’t be here.”

I grabbed his arm and pulled him down to crouch behind the bulwark so Slate and Kashmir wouldn’t see him. I caught Rotgut’s glance; he had a hand over his mouth, and his expression was somewhere between amusement and alarm. I put my finger to my lips and a question in my eyes. He spread his hands, but he nodded once and waved us toward the hatch.



I took a moment to throw my silk dress over Swag’s bucket before I pulled Blake into my room and shut the door.

“What’s happening?”

“Keep your voice down!”

“Why?” he whispered.

“I don’t want him to know you’re here!”

“Who? The captain? Or Mr. Firas?”

I put my hands on my hips. “Your insinuations are not very gentlemanly!”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Neither is your tutor.”

I opened my mouth to respond but fell silent at the sound of footsteps on the deck above, and voices as they passed overhead.

“Come, Captain. How and where would we find so many we could trust?”

“Perhaps in one of these back valleys . . .”

I cleared my throat more noisily than I had to, but thankfully their conversation faded quickly to murmurs, and for once it seemed like Blake was not listening closely. His eyes were flitting around the room, never resting long on one spot, and he shifted on his feet. “Mr. Hart,” I said, crossing my arms and making a show of studying him. “This may be the first time I’ve seen you at a loss.”

He laughed a little, but he was spinning his hat nervously in his hands. He glanced at the triangular corner of my room, the part behind the bow, which was bare but for some pillows and the tattered quilt Slate had wrapped me in when he’d taken me from the opium den. “Is this where you live?”

I shook my head. “It’s only where I keep my things.”

He stretched out his arms; standing where he was, his fingertips brushed the sides of the ship. “There isn’t much space.”

“I have the rest of the world.”

“Hmm.” He dropped his arms to his sides. “Have you ever considered a life elsewhere?”

“Oh, many times,” I said lightly. “And many places.”

“Spoken like a true adventurer.” Blake turned in a slow circle, and his eyes fell on my scattered books. He knelt to pick them up, but I crouched beside him, taking his hand in mine.

“Leave them be,” I said. “I’ll clean later.” Then I tilted my head. “Are you blushing?”

He pulled his hand back as though stung. Then he laughed ruefully. “It appears I am not so at ease in your territory as I am in my own.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, feeling bold. “The next time you try to impress me, I’ll press-gang you instead. We could use an extra deckhand.”

He grinned. “I’d rather find a way to draw you back ashore. Tell me, Miss Song,” he said, taking my hand this time, running his thumb gently over my skin. “Have you ever considered staying in Honolulu? I promise you, on this island, you will find a lifetime of adventure without ever having to raise a sail.”

I opened my mouth, partly in surprise, partly to speak, but I was interrupted by a knock at my door.

“Amira?”

For a moment, we were both still. The silence was stifling. “Yes?”

“Can I . . . I wanted to talk to you. About last night.”

If I hadn’t been nearly nose to nose with Blake, I wouldn’t have seen it, the tightening around his eyes. “I . . .” I cleared my throat, trying to keep my voice light. “There’s nothing to talk about, Kash.”