McAlistair ignored that. “I’ll not put her in danger, or frighten her—”
“What she doesn’t know won’t frighten her.”
McAlistair rose from the table and spoke with chilling finality. “Evie stays hidden. She stays safe. And if you think to maneuver things otherwise”—he pulled out his knife, calm as you please, and stuck the blade of it into the wooden table—“that pretty face won’t be the only reason people mistake you for a woman.”
Mr. Hunter rose to lean across the table, his palms flat against the wood. “That a threat, McAlistair?”
McAlistair mirrored Mr. Hunter’s position, so that the two were nearly nose to nose. “If need be.”
Evie couldn’t listen to another word.
“Enough! That is quite enough. There is no need for this.” She pushed open the door, stepped into the room and planted her hands on her hips. “Bickering and fighting like children. You should be ashamed of yourselves.”
She jabbed a finger at Mr. Hunter. “You—wanting to use me as bait without my knowledge or consent. That is contemptible.” She whirled to McAlistair before Mr. Hunter could even open his mouth in response. “You—threatening a man in his own home, sticking knives in furniture. That sort of behavior is unacceptable. And you—” She spun to Christian, who had the audacity to lean back in his chair and smile at her.
“What have I done, lass?”
Very little, Evie was forced to admit, but since she’d already jabbed her finger in his direction she’d have to think of something. “You’re enjoying yourself. It’s unseemly.”
Christian coughed into his fist, but she could still see the smile playing on his lips. “Well, now, Miss Cole, I’m thinking ‘enjoying’ might be the wrong—”
“Oh, don’t bother.” More annoyed than hurt—and perhaps a little anxious to make an exit before someone thought to comment on her eavesdropping—Evie gave them all one more disdainful look before turning toward the door.
Mr. Hunter was in front of her, blocking her escape, before she could reach for the handle. “A moment if you would, please, Miss Cole.”
“I can’t imagine why I should,” she said with a haughty lift of her brow. Of all those in the room, Mr. Hunter’s behavior had been the most unsettling.
Bait, indeed.
He stepped back and dipped into a very low bow. “Nor can I, but I should like the chance to apologize. Our behavior was indeed inexcusable. Mine in particular. I sincerely beg your forgiveness. I can only plead the strain of the journey and the frustration of being so far removed from the efforts of capturing our enemy.”
She surprised herself by snorting. “I don’t believe the first half of that statement for a second. But it was a very nice apology all the same,” she relented. And she’d no doubt the second half was the absolute truth. “Apology accepted.”
Mr. Hunter threw a hard glance at the other two men in the room. Christian stood and bowed. “Begging your pardon, Miss Cole.”
McAlistair, on the other hand, merely dipped his head in acknowledgment.
Evie might have taken offense at that, if she hadn’t come to know him well enough in the past few days to recognize the silent apology.
“I suppose we have all been under considerable strain,” she said carefully. “Perhaps a bit of distraction will serve us well. I look forward to sailing tomorrow,” she told McAlistair. “And to besting you at chess,” she teased Mr. Hunter. “Christian, I’m told you are a remarkable shot. Perhaps you could find the time to indulge me with a lesson?”
Christian’s face seemed to light up at the prospect. “Aye, lass. It’d be a pleasure.”
“Excellent. Well…” She found herself with nothing else to say, and now that her temper had settled, she felt her discomfort at being the center of attention begin to seep in. She’d be stammering again in a moment. “Well, good night, gentlemen.”
McAlistair watched Evie turn and leave. After a moment’s hesitation, he moved to follow, intent on offering in private the apology for which he’d been unable to find the words in front of the others. He made it into the hall before Mr. Hunter’s voice called him back.
“McAlistair.”
He shot a glance over his shoulder and found Mr. Hunter grinning at him.
“You owe me a new table.”
Though Evie wouldn’t have recognized it as such, this too was an apology. McAlistair returned in kind. “Be grateful it wasn’t your pretty face.”
To conclude the touching moment, Mr. Hunter made a vulgar gesture with his hand and followed it with a bit of advice. “She’s satisfied with how this ended, McAlistair. It might be wise to let well enough alone.”