material above her waist.
The door to her bedroom burst open. Her maid, Colette, rushed in. Beneath her white cap, wisps of unkempt hair fell around her face and neck. “Oh, Miss Prescott, you must hurry! Your father wishes to speak to you before his coach arrives.”
India yanked the covers to her throat, mortified to be caught in such a scandalous act. She’d been dreaming, had no idea fantasy had transcended into reality. Sweet Mary her mother would roll over in her grave.
“That will not be necessary, Colette.” Her father’s voice drifted through the open doorway.
Still rendered speechless by the nature of her wicked behavior, India squirmed deeper into the covers as her father strolled inside her room. His smile radiated love. “Good morning, Daughter.”
“Father.” She prayed her face didn’t glow crimson as she eased herself upright. “Has something happened?”
“A most wonderful thing has occurred.” He sat on the edge of her bed. As he took her hand in his, his green eyes twinkled. “Richard has asked for your hand, India .”
“No.” Against her will, the word tumbled out.
“Daughter, do not be foolish. You are nineteen, well past the age you should have married. It has been almost a year since a suitor has called upon you.”
“No, Father.” Her throat seized. Though it was expected, she didn’t care to marry. She’d done all she could to discreetly avoid the matter. Now, when she at last began to settle into spinsterhood and began to embrace the freedoms it would allow her, her father pulled the rug from beneath her feet.
Her father’s smile faded. Features that had glowed with excitement only moments before, dimmed into familiar hard lines that warned his mind was made. “I’m afraid you haven’t a choice. I’ve indulged you too much as it is, and I will not allow you to throw your life away with foolish notions of running my company. I have agreed. You have one year to convince your heart. I’m postponing my travels next year, to see you wed to Richard Grey in October.”
“No!”
****
A n arm smacked Cain in the face. He bolted upright, pulled from the deepest sleep he could remember despite the state he had been in when he at last drifted off. Moonlight washed through the wide windows at his back, illuminating the cabin in pale silver. Damnation, he’d missed the evening meal—along with everything else he needed to attend to. Drake wouldn’t easily forget this either. And by now, Reggie probably had the gunners on the verge of mutiny.
“No, no,” India murmured beside him. She tossed her head, writhed beneath the covers.
At once, the fog of confusion cleared. She had woken him. She and whatever dreams tormented her sleep. Concerned, he pressed the flat of his hand to her forehead. Her skin burned beneath damp tendrils of dark hair.
Cain gnawed on the inside of his cheek as he slipped from the bed. While she’d only suffered the cold wet for a few hours, exposure could wreck havoc on a person. With a little luck, and a lot of God’s blessings, she hadn’t caught pneumonia. If she had…
He refused to even consider the possibility. He wouldn’t be responsible for India ’s death. Not in any fashion. Sleep would help her mend, and he knew one sure-fire way to force her into restful slumber.
He plucked the stopper out of a small decanter of arrack. The sweet aroma of fruit and honey blended with the bite of dark rum to tease his nose. His mouth watered for a taste of the sweet concoction he kept tucked away for only the rarest of treats and celebrations. Far better than any simple rum, ale , or mead, the potent drink would lull India into heavy slumber.
After pouring three fingers’ worth into a glass, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. She offered little complaint this time as he slid his hand behind her back and eased her upright. Those damnable blue eyes opened in wide wonder, but her surprise faded as she looked at him. For a moment, Cain’s
The door to her bedroom burst open. Her maid, Colette, rushed in. Beneath her white cap, wisps of unkempt hair fell around her face and neck. “Oh, Miss Prescott, you must hurry! Your father wishes to speak to you before his coach arrives.”
India yanked the covers to her throat, mortified to be caught in such a scandalous act. She’d been dreaming, had no idea fantasy had transcended into reality. Sweet Mary her mother would roll over in her grave.
“That will not be necessary, Colette.” Her father’s voice drifted through the open doorway.
Still rendered speechless by the nature of her wicked behavior, India squirmed deeper into the covers as her father strolled inside her room. His smile radiated love. “Good morning, Daughter.”
“Father.” She prayed her face didn’t glow crimson as she eased herself upright. “Has something happened?”
“A most wonderful thing has occurred.” He sat on the edge of her bed. As he took her hand in his, his green eyes twinkled. “Richard has asked for your hand, India .”
“No.” Against her will, the word tumbled out.
“Daughter, do not be foolish. You are nineteen, well past the age you should have married. It has been almost a year since a suitor has called upon you.”
“No, Father.” Her throat seized. Though it was expected, she didn’t care to marry. She’d done all she could to discreetly avoid the matter. Now, when she at last began to settle into spinsterhood and began to embrace the freedoms it would allow her, her father pulled the rug from beneath her feet.
Her father’s smile faded. Features that had glowed with excitement only moments before, dimmed into familiar hard lines that warned his mind was made. “I’m afraid you haven’t a choice. I’ve indulged you too much as it is, and I will not allow you to throw your life away with foolish notions of running my company. I have agreed. You have one year to convince your heart. I’m postponing my travels next year, to see you wed to Richard Grey in October.”
“No!”
****
A n arm smacked Cain in the face. He bolted upright, pulled from the deepest sleep he could remember despite the state he had been in when he at last drifted off. Moonlight washed through the wide windows at his back, illuminating the cabin in pale silver. Damnation, he’d missed the evening meal—along with everything else he needed to attend to. Drake wouldn’t easily forget this either. And by now, Reggie probably had the gunners on the verge of mutiny.
“No, no,” India murmured beside him. She tossed her head, writhed beneath the covers.
At once, the fog of confusion cleared. She had woken him. She and whatever dreams tormented her sleep. Concerned, he pressed the flat of his hand to her forehead. Her skin burned beneath damp tendrils of dark hair.
Cain gnawed on the inside of his cheek as he slipped from the bed. While she’d only suffered the cold wet for a few hours, exposure could wreck havoc on a person. With a little luck, and a lot of God’s blessings, she hadn’t caught pneumonia. If she had…
He refused to even consider the possibility. He wouldn’t be responsible for India ’s death. Not in any fashion. Sleep would help her mend, and he knew one sure-fire way to force her into restful slumber.
He plucked the stopper out of a small decanter of arrack. The sweet aroma of fruit and honey blended with the bite of dark rum to tease his nose. His mouth watered for a taste of the sweet concoction he kept tucked away for only the rarest of treats and celebrations. Far better than any simple rum, ale , or mead, the potent drink would lull India into heavy slumber.
After pouring three fingers’ worth into a glass, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. She offered little complaint this time as he slid his hand behind her back and eased her upright. Those damnable blue eyes opened in wide wonder, but her surprise faded as she looked at him. For a moment, Cain’s
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