And fresh remorse. He should not have spoken to Miss Burke that way. Nor spoken about his captain, earlier. Both had been mistakes, violations of his duty to his ship, and his honor as an officer. He should have kept his feelings and his temper under stricter control, and protected both the captain and Miss Burke as long as he could. But something about her—her buttoned-up, lady-scientist practicality, her clear blue gaze, and her refusal to be cowed by anyone or anything—made him want to push her, and tell her the ugly, testing truth. But he’d be damned if he knew why. But he would likely be damned anyway. Because he could not keep his mind sufficiently on his work while the lady scientist in question gaped over the rail at the few barnacles that remained after he had set the men to scraping them off Tenacious’s hoary old hide. He told himself he watched her out of simple concern that she not do herself—or anyone else—a harm. He told himself he watched so he could drop a boat down to rescue her the moment she disappeared over the side.
