This Perfect Kiss by Melody Thomas Page A

snore suddenly erupted, telling Christel that at least the woman still lived.
    As was the norm in such cases, there was nothing to be done for the ailment but to ride out the weather. Christel made sure the slop bucket remained secured and that the woman was as warm as she could be. Christel would continue to check on her throughout the night. By the time she had finished, it was already dark. Looking around, she found Anna’s blankets in her berth and decided to gather them up. A curly-haired doll tumbled to the floor.
    Christel touched the faded velvet dress. She lifted it into the light spilling in from the companionway and stopped short with a gasp.
    Lord Carrick stood on the threshold. From broad shoulders to booted feet, he filled the doorway with his tall form. He wore a black oilskin that went to his knees and dripped water on the floor. His hand scraped back his hood. The wind had torn most of his hair from its queue, and strands hung wet to his shoulders. The beginnings of a beard shadowed his jaw.
    â€œMy lord . . .”
    He looked past her into the darkened room. “Where is my daughter?”
    â€œIn my quarters. Your quarters . . .”
    But he had already turned on his heel. Leaving Nurse Gabby to sleep the rest of the evening away in unconsciousness, Christel rushed to follow him into his cabin, still carrying the doll and blankets.
    Anna lay on her side already asleep in the bed, a barely visible lump beneath a rumpled feather tick. Christel could almost feel the tension leave the child’s father. “ ’Tis dark. I came down to make sure—”
    â€œA lamp has been lit?”
    â€œShe is afraid of the dark.”
    Christel set the blankets and doll on a chair. “Aren’t we all to some extent? Her mother is dead. To be in the darkness is to feel completely alone. No one wishes to feel alone.”
    He turned, his legs braced apart. His eyes went over her, wearing only his robe. With its cinnamon brocade under weaving, the fabric seemed to flow over her like watered silk. She’d rolled up the sleeves to accommodate their length on her arms, and the effect only seemed to make her feel younger.
    â€œI thought I told you to stay put in my quarters.”
    â€œNurse Gabby is incapacitated with seasickness. Your daughter came to the door looking for you. I hope you do not think I would have harmed Anna. ”
    He took a step nearer and didn’t seem to care that he dripped salt water all over the fine plush weave of a very costly Persian carpet.
    â€œNurse Gabby ?” he asked with amusement.
    â€œThe woman in the other cabin. Your daughter called her Gabby.”
    â€œI see. Might I suggest you not call her Gabby to her face? Mrs. Gables is somewhat sensitive when it comes to etiquette and would be greatly offended by your lack of decorum. I would not want you to embarrass yourself.”
    â€œEver the knight gallant. I will attempt to restrain my colonial impertinence in front of your staff.” She followed the statement with a serene smile. “As much as possible. Seeing as how we are family and all. My embarrassment would be yours twofold.”
    His eyes narrowed. Another wave hit the ship.
    Lord Carrick rode the movement, and she did not miss the brief flinch in his expression as he put weight on his lame leg to catch his balance. Nothing else showed in his expression, and only his hand moved as he caught himself on the rafter above his head.
    Christel never understood that kind of ruthless control. She was more like a cloud in the sky shaped by the wind and surrounding forces than like a rock, incapable of molding itself to its environment.
    Still, as she fell against the back of the chair, there was something to be said for rocks and other immovable objects, and an ex-naval captain with the confidence not to think his ship was in imminent peril of sinking.
    Closing the distance between them, England’s former naval hero