Some hint of what was in his mind must have shown in his eyes. Hers widened; sudden uncertainty flared.
He held her gaze ruthlessly; he made no attempt to hide his thoughts. She'd given herself to him, albeit in disguise. She was going to have to cope with the outcome.
"What are you thinking?"
Deliberately, he raised a brow.
She actually blushed. Her eyes widened even more, frantically searching his.
"I suggest," he said, the words clipped and precise, "that given the seriousness of the threat the Central East Africa Gold Company poses we set aside further discussion of the ramifications of your masquerade until we've successfully dealt with the company."
He could almost see her feathers subside. A moment later, she nodded. "Agreed." She turned away. "Not that there'll be any ramifications."
He shot out a hand and shackled her wrist. She froze. The eyes that met his when he turned his head were wide. "Don't pretend." After a moment, he continued, his tone less forceful, "I said we'd defer discussion of the matter, not that we'd ignore it."
"There's nothing to ignore." Her tone was breathless; her other hand rose to her breast.
Turbulent emotion swelled, threatening to sweep him away. Jaw set, he held it back, but allowed it to infuse his eyes. "Don't tempt me."
The words, dark and low, vibrated with a power Alathea could sense; it gripped her, shook her, then held her, but lightly. If she tried to fight, the grip would tighten, would seize and pin her. For now, he was content to simply hold. Dragging in a shaky breath, she forced herself to look away.
She was immeasurably grateful when, an instant later, his fingers slid from her wrist.
"Have you learned anything since last we discussed the matter?"
The question gave her something to cling to, to respond to sensibly. "Wiggs." Dragging in another breath, she lifted her head. "I asked him to find out the legal procedure involved in getting the note declared invalid. He sent a message yesterday saying he had an appointment with one of the Chancery Court judges tomorrow morning to discuss the possibilities."
"Good. Anything else?"
She grew calmer. "I've been looking for maps of the area to check the locations Crowley mentioned."
"Detailed maps of that area are hard to find."
"True, but I finally found one in a biography. It shows those three towns Crowley mentioned-Fangak, Lodwar, and Kafia. They're small, but there."
"What did the biographer say about them?"
She hesitated. "I don't know. I didn't read the text."
He sighed through his teeth.
"I will! I only found it two days ago. Anyway, what have you been doing? Have you located the captain?"
"No." Gabriel frowned. "It's not that simple. He's definitely not with any of the major shipping lines. There are scores of others to check, so we're checking. I've nosed about White's but no one remembers him. Incidentally, who saw him-Charlie?"
"No, Papa. But he doesn't remember anything beyond what I've told you. And I've made him promise to bring the captain home if he sees him again."
"Hmm. I've got people searching, but it's possible he's no longer in London. Most of the senior seamen come ashore, then head off to visit family, often out of London, returning only a day or so before they're due to sail again."
"So we might not see the captain again."
"Not if we simply wait to see him. There are other possibilities I'm following up." He glanced at the mantelpiece clock. "Speaking of which, I have to be elsewhere." He met Alathea's gaze. "Are we agreed that we'll pool all information so we can settle this business as expeditiously as possible?"
Alathea nodded.
"Good." He held her gaze for an instant, then he raised his hand.
Alathea's breath suspended; lost in the hazel depths of his eyes, she inwardly quivered as his fingers traced, then cradled her jaw. The pad of his thumb brushed slowly over her lips. She felt her eyes flare, her lips soften. Her wits whirled.