“Just because we’re in dock doesn’t mean we have to leave the ship.”
Deciding her hat was as straight as it could get, Anne turned away from her reflection in the mirror to the man leaning against the door. He wore black trousers that hugged his thighs, boots, and the familiar loose white shirt with its rebellious buttons. Only an hour before, he’d been sprawled in glorious nudity over the bed. She suspected in spite of all the time it had taken for her to dress with his assistance that he could have her naked and beneath him before she took her next breath if she but encouraged him.
“My family is no doubt desperate for word from me. If I don’t leave now, we would only be delaying the inevitable.”
“If it can be delayed, perhaps it’s not inevitable. Pen them a missive. Tell them you’ve decided to see the world. I can have us back at sea by dawn.”
Oh, she wasn’t half tempted. “I have responsibilities here.” A Season to endure, a husband to find, a father to please.
She crossed over to him, placed her hand on his chest, right where his heart beat out a steady rhythm. “We’re from different worlds, you and I. As lovely as it’s been, I can’t stay in your world. Not for the long haul.”
“Then for a short haul. A year. Eighteen months.”
“I would return a ruined woman with no hope for marriage prospects or children.” She shook her head. She wanted him to say that he’d marry her, but if he offered it would be foolish to say yes. She couldn’t go gallivanting around the world. What sort of life would that be for their children? Nor could she stand the thought of months on end, waiting at home for his return. But she also suspected that he wasn’t a man willing to take a wife. He’d lived his entire life unencumbered. “You know that we can’t be.”
In answer, whether acknowledgment or denial, he captured her mouth with his, shoved the fingers of one hand into her hair, and used the other to press her flat against him. She thought she would never tire of his kisses, the heat and passion of them, the way they encompassed all of her. Rising up on her toes, she wound her arms around his neck.
This would be their last kiss. She would be strong; she would walk away once his mouth was finished ravishing hers. But she was so tempted to stay, even knowing the disaster it would beget. She had known all along that their association would come to an end. Between them was unbridled passion, but no love. She wouldn’t even contemplate that she could possibly love him, because how would any man ever measure up to her courageous, strong, and unyielding captain?
She would have to forget him, cast memories of him to the locked corners of her heart, only to be visited on the very rarest of occasions.
His tongue swirled with hers, a familiar waltz now, and yet desperation clung to her as she swept hers through his mouth, searching for anything she’d not yet explored. She didn’t want to look back and wish that she taken one more swipe, nibbled a little longer, tasted more deeply. With him, she wanted no regrets. He’d given her a night that would sustain her for the remainder of her life. But it was time now to say good-bye.
Drawing back, he pressed his forehead to hers. “You should know that I’ll never forget you.”
She squeezed her eyes shut because she couldn’t give him the same promise, even if it was true. It wouldn’t be fair to the man she would eventually marry. She must forget him. She must condemn him to a faint wisp of memory.
Reaching behind him, he opened the door. She walked into the passageway and felt the heat suffuse her face at the sight of Martha standing there with Mr. Peterson. She wondered if they had heard her moans, sighs, and cries through the night. Then she decided what they might have heard was of no consequence, and it was far too late to worry over.
The captain led her up to the deck. She’d known it was night, of course, but somehow it seemed the right time for her parting. Although she was so tempted to stay with him until dawn. But her family had waited for her return long enough.
She heard him issue orders for someone to get her trunk. Then he escorted her down the gangway and along the docks. His arm remained inappropriately around her, nestling her against his side. She couldn’t bring herself to step away.
When they reached the area where hackneys waited, he hired two and she watched as her trunk was loaded into one.
“I should go with you,” he said.
“No. I want to say good-bye here, to remember you here.” Turning into him, to face him fully, she touched her gloved hand to his jaw. “May the winds always deliver you safely to your destination.”
“Anne—”
Rising up, she brushed a quick kiss over his lips before scrambling into the hackney. Martha settled in beside her and the wheels were soon clattering, carrying them away.
“We will never speak of this, Martha,” she said tersely, shoring up her resolve not to weep.
“Yes, m’lady.”
“We must move forward. See to our duties.”
“Yes, miss.”
No matter how much it pained them to do so.
Tristan watched the hackney roll away into the night, the emptiness engulfing him similar to one he’d experienced fourteen years earlier on the Yorkshire docks. It didn’t bear thinking about.
“What now, Cap’n?” Peterson asked.
“I intend to get bloody well drunk. Care to join me?”
“What in God’s name were you thinking?”
Anne stood within her father’s study. Knowing that she would be brought to task for her actions did not make the actual bringing any easier. Her father and brothers had not yet left for their clubs when she arrived home. It was the one night of the week that her father insisted they enjoy a meal together. She’d arrived too late to partake in dinner, but early enough to receive a scolding.
Her brothers had taken up various positions around the room, arms crossed, stances erect, obviously fully in support of the tongue-lashing she was on the cusp of enduring.
“As I discussed with you previously and reiterated in my letter, I needed to say good-bye to Walter so that I could move on with my life, fully embrace the upcoming Season, present an engaging front, and entice a lord into finding me worthy of becoming his wife. That is my duty, is it not?”
“Your duty is to obey your father and I had forbidden you to go.”
“Yes, well, I’m home now so it seems rather pointless to harp on what I’ve done. I achieved my goal and am ready to reenter Society.”
She’d never seen her father appear so flummoxed. He blinked, opened his mouth, shut it.
“Upon what ship did you book passage?” Jameson asked. As her father grew older, so her brother was beginning to assert himself, to prepare for the day when he would step seamlessly into their father’s shoes. “I made inquiries but had little success in determining—”
“I hired a ship.”
“What do you mean you hired a ship?”
“Honestly, Jameson, did you lose your comprehension of the English language while I was away?”
“You’ll answer your brother,” her father snapped, obviously regaining his faculties.
“I hired a captain willing to sail on my schedule.”
“Who is the captain? What ship?” Jameson barked.
“I don’t see that it’s relevant. The matter is done.”
“Do you have any idea what could have happened?”
“He came highly recommended.”
“By whom?”
“These pointless questions are becoming quite tedious.”
“Your reputation—”
“Did you tell people what I’d done?” she snapped.
“Absolutely not. We said you had determined you were not yet ready to step out of mourning, required additional seclusion, and returned to the country.”
“Then my reputation remains untarnished. And I’m quite weary from my travels so if you’ll excuse me, I wish to retire.”
She turned to go.
“I’m not finished with you yet,” her father shouted.
She sank into a chair, folded her hands on her lap, and met his gaze. “By all means, then, proceed.”
“I don’t believe you fully comprehend the seriousness of what you did.”
“And I’m not certain you fully comprehend that the matter is done. It’s unlikely that I’ll ever have another need to leave England’s shores. Hopefully it shall be many years before I lose someone else whom I love. And even then, he shall in all likelihood die here. I shall have no further adventures.”
More’s the pity, a little corner of her mind squeaked.
“It is only that we love you and were worried,” her father reiterated.
“I know.” She gave him a warm smile. “I believe your clubs await.”
“Indeed they do.”
Grateful that the matter was being put to rest, she rose.
“The Greystone ball is next week,” Jameson informed her. “I assume you will attend.”
“Most assuredly. And I shall put my best foot forward.”
She strolled from the room, thinking how odd it was that the house didn’t pitch at all. It seemed she’d finally gotten her sea legs when it was a bit too late.
In her bedchamber she found Martha putting away the last items from the trunk. Her maid looked up as though guilty. “Did all go well?”
“As well as it could.” She began tugging off her gloves.
“I found something in the trunk. I’m not sure what it is. I put it on your vanity.”
Anne walked to the vanity and discovered a small paper-wrapped parcel. The paper was more suited to serving as stationery but it had been crumpled and folded, secured with string around an object. Slowly she untied the string and pulled back the paper to reveal a starfish.
On the paper was written: For making a wish when there are no stars to be seen.
Tears stung her eyes. So many things to wish for, but only one mattered: Be safe, Captain. Please always be safe on your travels.
Carefully she flattened the paper, then folded it and placed it, along with the starfish, in her jewelry box.
“I’m tired, Martha. Help me prepare for bed.”
When she was dressed and Martha had left, Anne sat in a chair by the window and gazed out as the fog rolled in. The gaslights offered a meager attempt to hold it at bay, but they lit a path to the residence. She wished now that she hadn’t left the ship so soon. Perhaps Tristan wished the same. He could climb the tree. He could come to her. She wouldn’t turn him away. Just one more night.
But morning found her asleep in the chair, alone.