Malta reached across the table to lightly touch the back of his hand with her slender little fingers. “You seem quite travel-worn. I was so upset when I first let you in ... I never thanked you for coming so far to bring us tidings of my father's ship. You have come from afar, haven't you?”

“Quite a ways,” he admitted. He drew away from her and rubbed his hands together in his lap, as if that would still the tingling of her touch. She smiled knowingly at that, and then turned her face aside. A blush rose on her cheeks. She was aware of her flirting then, it wasn't the casual touch of a child. He felt besieged and confused. There were too many things to consider here. His mouth ran at the thought of even a small piece of cindin to clear his mind. He forced himself to take another bite of bread instead.

“You know, I look at you, and I wonder how your brother might look if he grew a mustache. Yours is quite flattering to your jaw and lips.”

Brashen lifted a hand to his own face to smooth his mustache selfconsciously. Her words were not appropriate, nor the way her eyes followed his fingers almost avidly. Brashen stood. “Perhaps I should come back later this afternoon. Please let them know to expect me. I probably should have sent word before I came calling today.”

“Not at all.” The girl remained seated. She did not stand to escort him to the door or even acknowledge his desire to leave. “I've already sent the runner. I am sure they will return soon. They will want to hear news of my father and his ship as swiftly as possible.”

“I am sure they will,” Brashen agreed stiffly. He could not understand this young woman. She looked at him guilelessly. Perhaps her words had been a child's artless error. Perhaps he had been too long at sea. He sat down, his back rigidly straight, and held his hat in his lap. “I will wait for them, then. I am sure I have interrupted your day. Please, do not feel you must remain with me. I shall be fine waiting here by myself.”

She gave a bubble of laughter at his awkward words. “Oh, dear. I have made you uncomfortable. I am terribly sorry. I suppose I have been too familiar with you. It is only because you were dear Grandfather's first mate so long that I feel you are almost a relative. Also, knowing Cerwin and Delo as well as I do, I naturally wished to extend a warm welcome to their brother.” Her voice dropped dramatically. “I think it is so tragic that you are no longer welcome in your family home. I have never understood exactly what happened between you and your father. . . .” She let her words trail off, inviting his confidence.

Spilling his guts about his family quarrel was the last thing he wished to do now. He could not recall that he had ever been in such an awkward situation. One moment Malta seemed an innocent child doing her best to welcome a guest in the absence of her elders. The next she seemed like a temptress toying with him. His news was pressing, and he wished to see Althea, but the longer he remained here, the uneasier he felt. It was belatedly occurring to him that perhaps this whole situation would be seen as improper. He was, to all appearances, completely alone with a young woman of good family. He knew some fathers and brothers who had fought duels over lesser offenses. He stood again. “I fear I must go. I have other errands. I will return, late this afternoon. Please give your family my regards.”

Malta made no effort at rising. He didn't wait for her to do so. “Very pleasant to have seen you again.” He bowed to her, and turned to leave.

“Your brother Cerwin doesn't think I'm a child.” There was a challenge in those words.

Unwillingly he turned back to face her. She had not arisen, but she had thrown back her head against the chair, baring the white column of her throat. A bit of her hair had come loose and she reached up to twine it through her fingers as she spoke. She smiled lazily. “He is sweet, like a little house cat. You, I suspect, are more like a tiger.” She put a fingertip in her mouth and nibbled at it thoughtfully. “Pets can be such boring creatures,” she observed.

Brashen suddenly discovered that the heart of a correctly mannered Bingtown Trader's son beat in his chest under his pirate's blouse. He was shocked to his core. There could be no mistake in her inflection. Captain Vestrit's granddaughter, in his family home, was honing her seductive wiles on him. It was outrageous.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” he said with honest indignation.

He did not turn back at her shocked gasp, but proceeded down the hall to the main door. He pulled it open to let himself out and found himself looking down into the startled faces of Ronica Vestrit and Keffria Haven. “Oh, thank Sa you've come,” he exclaimed, even as Keffria demanded, “Who are you and what are you doing in our house?” She glanced about wildly as if to summon menservants to seize him.