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Annoyance thrust through him like molten steel. "Oh, for heaven's sake. So now you're not speaking to me?"
She got to her feet in a rustle of silk and addressed Neal with a regal tilt of her chin. "I should like to freshen up. Ensign Gamble, would you be so good as to direct me?"
Jeremiah stood shirtless, in leather breeches and riding boots. A shaft of sunlight played over her father's sword hanging at his side and the dazzling glow of her gown. "You're speaking to him?" he demanded.
Neal shot him a triumphant grin.
"Ensign Gamble is otherwise engaged," Jeremiah said.
"I am at the lady's service."
Jeremiah shook his head, ready to rip Neal's from his arrogant neck. "I shall escort Miss Steele."
"I do not require your services, Captain Jordan."
"Oh for the love of--" He'd had more than enough. "You are dependent on me for everything. Your very life."
"Until I reach Bobby."
Outrage rifled through him. "After last night! Are you out of your mind?"
"Bobby will make Ferguson see I'm innocent!"
Jeremiah grasped her slender shoulders and bent toward her speaking in a low growl. "You are not innocent. You fired on an officer of the crown, and you are not going to the British. It's too risky by half and damn disloyal to me."
Her lip quivered, but she didn't shrink from him. "I'm a Tory, remember?"
"When you pulled that trigger, you joined the Patriots."