twins exchanged another significant look, as if they were already plotting how to next test Miss Lambert’s patience. He sighed, hating all the drama.
The meal dragged on for two more hours, and he endured it with as much grace as he could muster. To his surprise, after Miss Lambert departed, he lost the energy for socializing. It became a trial, and he observed—bored out of his mind—as the twins flirted with Edward, as Esther quipped and complained.
By the time he was able to slip away to his cabin, he was brimming with annoyance and eager to be alone. Vaguely, he wondered about Violet, but worry over her condition produced scant concern because Miss Lambert was front and center in any musings.
Was Miss Lambert attending Violet? How was she herself weathering the rougher seas?
Miss Lambert . . . Lambert . . . Lambert . . .
She’d infested his head, like a malignant brain disease. Why was he so captivated? Why couldn’t he focus on anything but her?
He paced like a lion in a cage. Though his cabin was second in size to Bramwell’s, it was small and austere, with a bunk, a chair, and chest of drawers. The ceiling was so low that he had to stoop when he entered, and the cramped space was driving him mad.
He opened the door and tiptoed into the hall, excited to climb up on the deck and stand under the starry sky.
As he reached the ladder, Miss Lambert emerged out of the darkness from the other end of the corridor, where she was sharing a cabin with Violet. In an instant, they were very close, a hint of her perfume tickling his male senses.
Moonbeams wafted through the hatch, lightening her blond hair so it seemed silvery white. Her skin glowed with the same shimmering hue, her big blue eyes sparkling like diamonds.
She’d let her hair down, the luxurious locks curling to her waist, and she had to have dressed hastily. The top few buttons of her gown hadn’t been buttoned, and bare toes peeked out from under the hem of her skirt.
“Hello,” he whispered.
“Hello, milord.” She whispered, too.
The encounter was very shocking, very intimate.
“How is Violet?” he remembered to ask.
“Not well. The odor in our cabin is a tad . . . ripe.”
“You sneaked out?”
She frowned, deeming his comment a chastisement.
“Her maid is with her.”
“Then you’re free for a bit.”
“As free as I can be while trapped on board a ship in the middle of the night.”
He chuckled, as he noticed she was holding a vial in her hand. He took it from her, and she released it with reluctance. He lifted it toward the hatch, assessing the contents. It contained what appeared to be red wine.
Was she a drinker? Why hide it? He wasn’t a teetotaler, and he didn’t demand abstinence from others. Wine had been served with supper; she could have had plenty.
“What’s this?” he queried, as she snatched it from him and tucked it into the folds of her skirt.
“It’s a . . . tonic a peddler gave me. To ward off seasickness.”
“You seem unaffected. Have you needed it?”
“No, but I thought I should keep it with me—just in case.”
“How are you enjoying the trip so far?”
“I’m enjoying it immensely. I believe I’m meant for sailing. I wish I could sail off to the ends of the earth and never stop.”
“Ah, a kindred spirit. I often feel the same way.”
He studied her, seeing her in a whole new light. How was it that he’d known, deep in his heart, that she would love to sail? What else might they have in common?
“You’re having some trouble with the twins,” he mentioned.
“Not really. I’ve caught on to their games. They think they can scare me off, but they have no idea who they’re up against.”
“You’re a pistol, Miss Lambert.”
“I can be—as they’re about to learn.”
“Would you walk on the deck with me?”
“No, I would not.”
“Why?”
“We shouldn’t be seen together. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”
It was the sort of remark he normally would have made
The meal dragged on for two more hours, and he endured it with as much grace as he could muster. To his surprise, after Miss Lambert departed, he lost the energy for socializing. It became a trial, and he observed—bored out of his mind—as the twins flirted with Edward, as Esther quipped and complained.
By the time he was able to slip away to his cabin, he was brimming with annoyance and eager to be alone. Vaguely, he wondered about Violet, but worry over her condition produced scant concern because Miss Lambert was front and center in any musings.
Was Miss Lambert attending Violet? How was she herself weathering the rougher seas?
Miss Lambert . . . Lambert . . . Lambert . . .
She’d infested his head, like a malignant brain disease. Why was he so captivated? Why couldn’t he focus on anything but her?
He paced like a lion in a cage. Though his cabin was second in size to Bramwell’s, it was small and austere, with a bunk, a chair, and chest of drawers. The ceiling was so low that he had to stoop when he entered, and the cramped space was driving him mad.
He opened the door and tiptoed into the hall, excited to climb up on the deck and stand under the starry sky.
As he reached the ladder, Miss Lambert emerged out of the darkness from the other end of the corridor, where she was sharing a cabin with Violet. In an instant, they were very close, a hint of her perfume tickling his male senses.
Moonbeams wafted through the hatch, lightening her blond hair so it seemed silvery white. Her skin glowed with the same shimmering hue, her big blue eyes sparkling like diamonds.
She’d let her hair down, the luxurious locks curling to her waist, and she had to have dressed hastily. The top few buttons of her gown hadn’t been buttoned, and bare toes peeked out from under the hem of her skirt.
“Hello,” he whispered.
“Hello, milord.” She whispered, too.
The encounter was very shocking, very intimate.
“How is Violet?” he remembered to ask.
“Not well. The odor in our cabin is a tad . . . ripe.”
“You sneaked out?”
She frowned, deeming his comment a chastisement.
“Her maid is with her.”
“Then you’re free for a bit.”
“As free as I can be while trapped on board a ship in the middle of the night.”
He chuckled, as he noticed she was holding a vial in her hand. He took it from her, and she released it with reluctance. He lifted it toward the hatch, assessing the contents. It contained what appeared to be red wine.
Was she a drinker? Why hide it? He wasn’t a teetotaler, and he didn’t demand abstinence from others. Wine had been served with supper; she could have had plenty.
“What’s this?” he queried, as she snatched it from him and tucked it into the folds of her skirt.
“It’s a . . . tonic a peddler gave me. To ward off seasickness.”
“You seem unaffected. Have you needed it?”
“No, but I thought I should keep it with me—just in case.”
“How are you enjoying the trip so far?”
“I’m enjoying it immensely. I believe I’m meant for sailing. I wish I could sail off to the ends of the earth and never stop.”
“Ah, a kindred spirit. I often feel the same way.”
He studied her, seeing her in a whole new light. How was it that he’d known, deep in his heart, that she would love to sail? What else might they have in common?
“You’re having some trouble with the twins,” he mentioned.
“Not really. I’ve caught on to their games. They think they can scare me off, but they have no idea who they’re up against.”
“You’re a pistol, Miss Lambert.”
“I can be—as they’re about to learn.”
“Would you walk on the deck with me?”
“No, I would not.”
“Why?”
“We shouldn’t be seen together. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”
It was the sort of remark he normally would have made
Similar Books
