Renegade by Caroline Lee Page A

wooden work surface. There was a window beside the stove, and the reflection of the setting sun on the river made him squint. Everything seemed wavy, but he didn’t know if it was the glass or the water that made it appear that way. He wished he could see the dock and the Polaris ’s dinghy. And Robert.
    After a long moment, she sighed, and he almost turned around. Almost. “You say you’re my mother’s business partner. Pearl says you’re a smuggler.” A little snort then. “Oh, and trust me, I got quite the earful from her this afternoon, instead of napping.” Another sigh that he felt more than heard. “I think you’re both right. Which terrifies me, because why would my mother partner with a smuggler?”
    He didn’t deny it. Just said, “You should ask her.”
    “Oh, I will. Believe me.”
    He did turn then, bracing his hands on the table behind him and leaning back against it. He suspected that he didn’t feel nearly as at-ease as he looked. “You know, Becks, I think I do. I think I believe that you could do just about anything.”
    Her cheeks pinked at his words… or maybe it was just the dim light down here. He’d always thought the kitchens at Baird’s Cove were uninviting, with their thick brick walls and small windows. But Beckett was built the same, and he felt downright cozy standing down here with her. Maybe it was just the company that made the difference.
    They stood like that for several moments: him watching the way the shifting shadows spread across her shoulders, and her watching him watching her. When had he ever spent so much time in a lady’s company? He smothered a grin; he’d spent plenty of time in the company of women—and ladies—but not actually talking. The two conversations he’d had with Becks today probably constituted the longest time he’d been in a woman’s presence and just… talked . Oh, there’d been a moment earlier today, beside the grand staircase, when he’d wanted to do more than talk, and had been seriously thinking about kissing her again. But overall, he’d enjoyed the time just listening to her.
    Becks Middleton was unlike any woman he’d ever met, and he hadn’t been lying when he said that he thought she could do anything. He felt like he’d only just met her, but he knew that she was strong and capable and… and interesting . Her plain features hid a fascinating mind, and he was finding that for the first time ever, he wanted to know what a woman was thinking.
    And then she yawned, and it broke the spell. He chuckled, and crossed his arms again. “You should’ve napped today.”
    “I know,” she said through another yawn, and his grin grew. She was the type of person who wouldn’t apologize for yawning, or bother trying to hide it, and he liked that about her. “But I should’ve. I’ll be up early tomorrow.”
    “Why?”
    “Planting yams for fall. The other women and children usually help, but with Gretel keeping her little ones at home while Seelay recovers, there’s going to be more for us to do. I figured I’d start early, to be done before it gets too hot.”
    He remembered his mother, and her friends, and Ramsey’s ladies, and tried to imagine any of them bent over a hoe and a furrow in the dirt. It was almost laughable. She surely wasn’t the only plantation owner to plant her own yams, but she was the first lady he’d ever met who was willing to get her hands dirty with such back-breaking labor.
    “I’ll help.” Where had that come from? He didn’t know anything about planting; knowing that sort of thing had always fallen on Holt.
    She cocked her head to one side, watching him with those serious eyes again. “Why?”
    He shrugged. “I like to learn. I’d like you to teach me.”
    After a moment, she nodded. “All right. If you’re serious. I’ll meet you on the front veranda at dawn.”
    He smiled, and her return smile might have been slight, but it was there.
    Later, lying in the bed in the guest room and