Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
His hand moved up her back, then down to cup her bottom. “Do you still want to marry me? Are you sure? I’ll likely be a tyrant.”
She snuggled closer to him. “I can’t imagine that. You’ve always been so kind.”
“Until five minutes ago.”
“I suppose I deserved that.” She touched his starched linen cravat, then smoothed it. “I’ll never misbehave again, so you’ll never have need again to turn me over your knee. If you marry me, I promise to be very, very good from here on out.”
She had no experience being coquettish. She’d been raised to be a sweet, demure young woman, but she thought she must have said something right because Marlow’s right eyebrow raised a bit, and something almost dangerous entered his gaze. It gave her an odd feeling of power to affect him so. A feeling that lasted two full seconds before he nudged her off his lap.
“We can’t marry now, on the ship,” he said, rearranging his trousers in a quick, furtive motion. “The captain could have done it, but he knows you as Widow Lintel and I won’t marry you under a false name. Nor can we reveal who you really are, not yet. You must continue in this fictional widow role until we arrive at the Egyptian port. Then we’ll book passage home under your real name and marry in England.”
“But—”
“But nothing. There are weeks left in this journey. You’ll be treated more respectfully as Widow Lintel than as a runaway girl, even if your father is a duke.”
“It’s not that. It’s waiting all that time to marry. Must we wait until we’re back in England?”
“Yes, naughty girl. It’s your punishment for this subterfuge,” he said, indicating her black frock. “And we have already done things so incorrectly. We should at least be married in our own country, in a Christian church.” He paused a moment, pinching his nose between tense fingers. “Your father. He will take off my head. We can’t even write to our parents to explain the situation. Any letter sent from Egypt would likely arrive after us. It would probably be posted to our same ship.”
She didn’t like this practical, gloomy Marlow as much as the one who had raised his brow at her. “I’ll make sure my father doesn’t do anything to you,” she promised. “My brothers, also. I’ll protect you.”
His woebegone expression didn’t communicate much confidence in her protection. Well, none of that mattered. They were together and no one could separate them anymore.
Although Marlow was being so maddeningly proper, spanking her and then keeping a careful distance since he’d banished her from his lap. She wanted to stay in his embrace forever, but she had the sinking feeling he was going to continue to be proper until they were wed.
“How long will it take us to reach Egypt?” she asked.
He gave another of his piqued sighs. “Three more weeks at least, with the weather as changeable as it’s been. Let’s hope it doesn’t worsen and slow us even more. Then we can expect another few weeks until we’re back in London, provided we can find a fit vessel in a timely manner.” His voice softened at her obvious dejection. “No matter. I’d wait forever for you, Rosalind.”
He held out his hand, oh so properly. She could see he was holding back, physically holding himself back from embracing her, but she would not tempt him to be more affectionate than his conscience allowed. They would have many days, weeks, months, years to be loving to one another once they were married. Oh, how she adored him.
It would be difficult to wait but there was no help for it. Outside her small window, the sea seemed to go on forever, offering no sympathy for their plight.
Chapter Six
A Matter of Honor
When Marlow returned to his room, he threw himself on his bed and pulled the blankets over his face, dogged by the fear he might foist himself upon her with no barrier of propriety or supervision to prevent it. Why, he could bring her into his room right now, lock her in and spend the next few weeks perverting her so thoroughly she would never recover her sensibilities. Who would stop him?
No one.
He must stop himself, not just now, but for the next several weeks. Torture. Torment. He must avoid her completely.
Blast it, he wouldn’t be able to do that.
Instead, he initiated a formal, public courtship. Not the courtship of Viscount Marlow and Lady Rosalind, the Duke of Lockridge’s daughter, but of Marlow and the young Widow Lintel. With the captain’s blessing, they began to take daily walks about the deck, Rosalind’s face occasionally peeking from beneath her black veil. The other passengers looked on in approval, glad he’d managed to tempt her from her solitary grief.
In private, he began to hear timid knocks on the door separating their quarters. She could visit him any time with no one the wiser. It was an astounding amount of access to a woman he was previously only allowed to admire from afar. He used to consider himself lucky to catch a glimpse of her at friendly gatherings, and even then, he’d had to pretend a lack of interest, lest her brother Townsend stare daggers at him.