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)
“I miss Elizabeth and Hazel. Oh, if Elizabeth was here, she could tell us whether everything would turn out all right.”
“Elizabeth does have a strange facility for knowing things, doesn’t she?”
“She is a fun friend too, and a true one. I didn’t even tell her goodbye. I was afraid she’d tell Mama and Papa about my scheme and stop me from going. My dear parents! What if I never see them again?”
This was not going well at all. His idea about pleasant thoughts had turned into an avalanche of maudlin feelings. He thought of the friends and family he’d not see again if the storm didn’t let up. His mother and father, yes. His sisters Ella and Amelia, and his brother Dennis. His lifelong partners in crime, August, Wescott, and Townsend, who’d put up with his immature wildness and never made him feel bad.
And Rosalind, who’d made him wish to grow into a better man.
“Don’t say your goodbyes yet,” he said, an edge of resistance seeping into his tone. “I’m not ready to give up yet.”
The ship swooped and shuddered as if to mock his false bravado. He held on to Rosalind, cradling her with their fronts pressed together, one of his legs wrapped about hers to help her feel more secure. It was the one happy point in their current situation, for he never could have held her like this back in England. He couldn’t have held her like this if the storm wasn’t raging. He’d been so careful not to take advantage of her proximity until they were married. Well, aside from the self-indulgent spankings.
“I’m so afraid,” she said in a shuddery whisper. “I wish I had more courage. I’m so panicked.”
He knew a way to distract her from her fears, a fail-safe way to pass these life-or-death hours. Would it be honorable or dishonorable to do so?
Did that really matter anymore?
“Darling Rosalind,” he said, tilting her head up in the darkness. “May I kiss you?”
“N-now?” she stammered. “In the storm?”
“In the storm. In the calm. Anywhere on heaven or earth. I always want to kiss you. Perhaps it will make you feel less scared.”
“I wish it would. I suppose you might try.”
Her voice softened on the last words, as if she might almost be smiling. Silly, to think a kiss could solve anything.
Silly to want to kiss her till his very last breath.
He kissed her, just kissed her, though he wanted more. To kiss her was enough to become lost in fantasy and contentment. The storm did subside a little, at least as it affected his thoughts, for when he kissed her he could only think about her—her soft lips, her pure scent, her hesitant, burgeoning womanhood.
She followed where he led, courageous in this, at least. She was an enthusiastic kisser, her proper, reserved manner only a front for her daring attributes as a lover. When he wove his fingers in her hair and kissed her harder, she didn’t recoil but met him passion for passion. She parted her lips when he probed with his tongue, then nearly bit him as the ship took a sideways tumble.
It did not dissuade him from trying it again, and she answered by squirming against his body, opening her mouth for more. Their kisses became like the powerful ocean outside, seeking, retreating, knocking them sideways. His cock had grown hard as granite. He pressed that hardness against her front, thinking, why not?
“I feel better when you kiss me,” she said as the waves rolled them to and fro.
“Sweet Rosalind. Every kiss from you seems like a dream. You’re beautiful to me in every way.”
In the dark, his fingertips traced what he could not see. Her noble chin, her delicate neck with her pulse beating beneath the skin, so full of life. Her slender clavicle, then the round loveliness of her breasts. One was pressed against him; he caressed the other. Why not? Whyever not at this point? She pressed back against his palm, and he drew his fingertips to a point. Her nipple was hard beneath her staid black gown and her chemise.
“Oh,” she said softly. She sounded delighted, so he gave another brush of fingers across that sensitive place, feeling guilty and lustful, but thrilled beyond measure. She reacted like an angel falling to darkness, her moan both surprised and desirous. He caught those moans in a new foray of kissing.
She reached for his face, clutching his long hair in her fist to hold him near, as if he might go away from her now. He’d sooner die first. As he kissed her, she touched his shoulder, then his arm as if to explore the contours of a man. He made a low sound of approval, wishing her to explore to her heart’s content. They had moved beyond words to pure feeling and connection.