CHAPTER SIX
Nothing could have prepared Kate for the sight that greeted her.
Wide-eyed, she gazed at the torches that circled the large blanket spread on the bow of the ship. Upon the blanket were platter after platter of delectable foods with countless flowers sprinkled across it all.
Set in the midst of the star-sprinkled night, it was mysterious and beautiful. Like something out of a dream.
“What do you think?” he whispered close to her ear.
She lifted glittering eyes to meet his expectant smile. “It is . . . lovely.”
“Here.”
With a tug on her hand he settled her on the blanket. Swiftly, he lowered himself close beside her and Kate was suddenly aware of the scent of warm male skin mingling with the perfume of flowers.
She knew she should scoot away and put a sensible amount of distance between them. But an odd sense of ease had been woven between them over the past few moments. A connection that hummed in the air and soothed the warning voices in the back of her mind. It seemed somehow right to have him so close to her side.
“I have tried to think of a variety of foods you were most likely not to have tried before,” he told her, taking a plate and beginning to fill it with the bounty before them. “Escargots. Fois gras. Quail eggs with caviar. Eggplant and, last, papaya.”
“Dear heavens,” she breathed as she accepted the plate. “It is a feast.”
“A feast for the senses.” The blue gaze swept over her features, lingering a tantalizing moment on her lips. “Just as you requested.”
A renegade flare of pleasure warmed her heart as she considered the effort that Luce had taken to create such a special setting. No one had ever concerned themselves with pleasing her. Certainly not in such a spectacular style.
The knowledge that he must have devoted hours, and a not inconsiderable amount of his limited income, threatened to undermine her determination to treat him with utter indifference.
With an effort, she turned her attention to the food awaiting her approval. Food seemed far preferable to the unwelcome pang of tenderness.
In silence she savored the rich, varied tastes, occasionally sipping from the wine, although she was careful to ensure it was only tiny sips. She felt him watching her. Perhaps judging whether his efforts had succeeded in soothing his crazed, unpredictable fiancée, she wryly acknowledged. But she refused to allow herself to be bothered by the unwavering scrutiny. Instead, she thoroughly savored the meal.
She had cleaned the plate before she set it aside with a satisfied sigh.
“That was delicious,” she murmured.
“Which one?”
“All of them.” She lifted her head to meet his indulgent smile, not even flinching when he carefully wiped her lips with a linen napkin. “I cannot believe that I waited so long to try such wonderful dishes.”
“There is much more to try. Lobster, curry from India, fresh asparagus made by a top French chef . . .”
“Not tonight,” she protested with a chuckle. In truth, she did not believe that she could stuff in one more morsel.
“No, not tonight,” he agreed, leaning on one elbow and tilting his head to one side. “I presume that your father prefers the more traditional English dishes?”
“My father is suspicious of anything beyond roasted venison and boiled potatoes,” she retorted in dry tones. “He believes that sauces and confections are a plot of the French to overthrow our monarchy.”
He laughed softly at her confession. “Good gads, venison and boiled potatoes? It is no wonder you were starving for something different.”
“Yes.” Her gaze slowly moved about the velvet darkness that surrounded them. In the distance, a lone bird sang to the stars, its song oddly haunting in the deep silence. “Although I did not realize that I was starving until it was almost too late. Now I am determined never to seclude myself from such pleasures again.”
His gaze became watchful, as if he were not entirely pleased by her soft words.
“You seem to have forgotten that there is more than mere pleasure in life, and that you managed to accomplish a great deal while you were in Kent, my dear. Surely you take pride in having built an orphanage and ensuring that the school was opened to the local girls? No small feats for a young maiden.”
It was true enough. She was proud of what she had accomplished. How could she not be?
Because of her, dozens of children had been saved from the coal mines and workhouses. And it was only at her relentless insistence that the vicar had agreed to allow the village girls to attend his daily lessons.
Even a woman utterly devoid of conceit would have taken a measure of satisfaction in the thought that she had truly made a difference in the neighborhood.
“I suppose so,” she slowly admitted.
“You possess a rare talent to not only realize the plight of those less fortunate, Kate, but also to take charge and ensure you do all in your power to make their existence better,” he murmured in insistent tones. “Most among society prefer to turn their heads and pretend that they do not notice those in need.”
She gave a small shrug. “There are many who contribute to worthy causes.”
“Contribute funds, not their hearts.” He regarded her steadily. “Only you have been willing to take on such formidable tasks. It is a gift that you should not take for granted.”
“But it is not enough,” she stated firmly. “I realize that now.”
A small silence fell at her determined words. Then he reached out to lightly stroke a curl from her cheek.
“So what do you intend to do, Kate?”
She gave a blink of surprise at his unexpected question. “Do?”
“For your future.”
“Oh.” She shrugged. “I do not intend to consider the future for now. I will worry about tomorrow when it comes.”
A frown tugged at his brow as his fingers shifted to her chin and raised her face so he could closely study her set expression.
“You cannot remain in London indefinitely. Your father is bound to discover your deception sooner or later.”
“I realize that, but while I am here, I am going to appreciate my independence,” she insisted, refusing to apologize for her impulsive desires.
And why should she apologize? she asked herself sternly.
She had waited a lifetime for this brief period of freedom. Surely she deserved to take her pleasure without explaining herself to a gentleman who desired only to return her to the shackles she had fled?
“And what if this outlandish scheme of yours brings you ruin?” he demanded.
She met his gaze squarely. “At the moment, it is a risk that I am willing to take. If you are concerned for your own reputation in being associated with me, you are quite welcome to return to Kent.”
Despite his best intentions, Luce could not entirely hide his flare of exasperation.
Understandable, she told herself with a spark of dry amusement. He was a gentleman accustomed to giving orders and having them obeyed.
It was a small miracle and a testament to his desperation that he had forced himself to maintain his dubious patience.
“I cannot believe you would be content to live in shamed isolation because of a brief bout of insanity.”
Kate considered his accusing words for a long moment.
“No, I intend to take great care that I do not cause a scandal,” she at last conceded. “But to be honest, I have lived in isolation with or without shame. And if worse does come to worse then I will discover some means of caring for myself. I do possess an independent allowance from my mother, and more importantly, I no longer depend upon others to protect me from the world.”
Her words did little to reassure him and he gave a slow shake of his golden head.
“It would be a sin against nature to have you waste into a spinster, Kate. You were meant to be a wife and mother.”
Kate felt her own annoyance being stirred to life.
She had been honest with Luce. Far more honest than she had intended to be, thanks to her bout of vulnerability at his own confessions of his childhood and the beautiful dinner he had created.
She did not desire to be reminded that his only concern was luring her to the nearest church.
“You mean I was meant to be your wife, do you not, Luce?” she demanded tartly.
His mouth thinned. “Yes.”
“I have told you that . . .”
“Very well. You have made yourself gruesomely clear, Kate,” he murmured, the annoyance seeming to drain from the blue eyes to be replaced with a dark, far more dangerous amusement. “I do not desire to ruin this evening with an argument. Not when there are far more pleasant means of passing the time.”
Kate shivered, suddenly aware of their isolation. They might have been completely alone on the ship. Just one man and one woman with the seductive beauty of the starlit night.
“And precisely what pleasant means are you referring to?” she demanded with a lift of her brows.
“Well, I could offer a few suggestions . . .”
“No,” she interrupted in a voice that was oddly husky. “That is quite all right.”
“Then you tell me what you wish to do,” he urged softly.
A voice in the back of her mind warned her to simply demand to be taken back to her hotel. It was without a doubt the wisest choice to make.
Unfortunately, she felt too restless to simply return to her chambers for the evening. Not when the night was so mild, and the view so spectacular.
And her companion so tantalizing, a wicked voice whispered in the back of her mind.
She gave an unconscious shake of her head and rushed to divert the unwelcome thought.
“Tell me of your travels,” she abruptly demanded. “Have you visited many exotic locations?”
A golden brow lifted in mild surprise, but thankfully, he leaned back on his hands and allowed his gaze to wander over the large ship.
“I have been to Jamaica, the West Indies, and even to the colonies. I suppose some might consider them exotic.”
“They must have been fascinating.” She tilted her head to one side. “I have heard that the air in the West Indies smells of spice and flowers. Is it true?”
He gave a wry chuckle. “Actually the air smelled of tar and sweaty men and rotting fish.”
A hint of disappointment fluttered over the delicate features. “Really?”
“Well, to be honest, I rarely visited more than the docks and warehouses, which are tediously similar the world over. As are seedy taverns and rat-infested inns.”
She wrinkled her nose at his blunt honesty. “You do not make it sound particularly romantic.”
“Forgive me.” He offered a rueful smile. “I fear that I am destined never to be invited for a series of lectures throughout London.”
“Not if you intend to discuss seedy taverns and rat-infested inns,” she readily agreed.
“Very well, I shall attempt to leave out any mention of lice and rats and food that an Englishman would consider unfit for his hounds.”
“It could not have been all bad.”
He paused for a moment, his expression oddly softening in the moonlight.
“No. Although I have yet to discover a land as beautiful as England, there is nothing to compare to nights upon the waves with the stars splattered like diamonds across the sky and the silence so profound that you can hear your very soul.” He breathed in deeply. “It is those moments that lure men to the sea.”
Kate caught her breath at the near poetry of his soft words. “Do you still sail?”
“Not as often as I would desire.” He turned his head to meet her gaze. “It was a simple matter when I possessed only the Windsong. Now I cannot afford to be away from London for months at a time. Not without one disaster or another occurring.”
“But you miss your time at sea?”
“Very much.”
Kate absently tucked her feet beneath her, a wistful smile tugging at her lips. “You are most fortunate, you know. It must be glorious to simply sail away without knowing what you might see or discover. Every day would be a fresh adventure.”
“Some days are more adventurous than others, considering the treachery of the seas, and the determination of pirates,” he said dryly. “Still, there are few places I would rather be.”
“Yes.” She heaved a faint sigh, quite easily able to imagine drifting into the darkness with no concerns, no petty rules, and nothing but the unknown horizon to occupy her mind. “I envy you, Luce.”
There was a slight pause before she heard a faint rustle, and then warm fingers were gently pressing her chin up to meet a pair of glittering blue eyes.
“You wish to travel?”
“I can imagine nothing I would enjoy more,” she retorted without hesitation.
“You do realize that I could make such a dream possible, my dear?” he aked softly. “I have only to say the word and we could be cast off and headed for wherever your heart may desire.”
Her breath caught in her throat at his mesmerizing words. Wherever her heart desired? Simple words, and yet unexpectedly poignant.
“You make it sound very simple,” she murmured.
“What could be more simple?” he demanded. “For now, your father believes you to be in Surrey, and those in London know you only as a lonely widow. There would be no one to halt you from indulging your dreams.”
For a moment, she allowed the tempting image of sand-scoured Egypt and lush Greece to rise to her mind. It would indeed be a dream come true. To walk in the footsteps of the ancients, and stand among the ruins of past civilizations. To perhaps even travel to distant lands with their savage natives and vast wilderness.
Then she was ruefully thrusting aside temptation.
Luce had already warned her that every adventure came with a price. A throbbing head had been the cost of overindulgence with champagne. The cost of sailing off with Luce would be much greater.
A cost she was not yet prepared to pay.
She pulled from his lingering touch with a lift of her chin. “A tempting offer, Luce, but one I fear I must decline.”
“Why?”
“I prefer to remain in London.”
He gave a slow shake of his head. “No.”
“What?”
“It is not because you prefer to remain in London,” he said with relentless assurance. “It is because you are frightened to take the risk.”
Her eyes swiftly narrowed in annoyance. “That is absurd. Why would I be frightened?”
His gaze slowly swept over her shadowed countenance. “Because you fear that you might discover more than distant lands.”
“And what would that be?”
“What every person desires. Friendship. Passion. Love. The certainty that you possess a companion who will forever stand by your side.”
A sharp tingle raced down her spine at his confident words. He was so utterly certain. So convinced that he could read her heart.
It was more than a tad unnerving.
“I think that we should return to the hotel,” she abruptly announced, determinedly pressing herself to her feet before he could discover some means of undermining her decision.
Unfortunately, her haste was her undoing. Even as she rose, her foot remained caught upon the hem of her gown, and with a stifled gasp she discovered herself tumbling forward.
Moving with smooth grace, Luce was before her, catching her in his arms to keep her upright.
“Careful, my love,” he murmured, holding her far too close for Kate’s peace of mind.
Clutching at the lapels of his coat, Kate sternly willed her knees to halt their urge to give out. A task that was far more difficult than it should have been.
“You may release me,” she forced herself to mutter.
“In a moment.” His head lowered, his cheek softly brushing over her curls.
“Luce . . .”
She felt his lips touch her temple as he breathed in deeply. “Kate, what is that perfume you wear?”
Her toes curled at the seductive rasp in his voice. Or perhaps it was the heat of his body that surrounded her like a cloak of temptation.
“I . . . I wear no perfume,” she inanely retorted. “It is merely my soap.”
“No. It is you. The scent of you,” he muttered, his arms tightening about her body. “I would know it anywhere. It is driving me mad.”
She shivered at the fierce, unexpected excitement that raced through her blood. She wanted to remain in his arms. To tug his head downward and press her lips to his own. To experience the magic that beaconed.
Instead, with an unsteady motion, she forced her hands to push at his broad chest. Luce’s particular brand of magic was far more potent than she could ever have expected.
Rather to her disappointment, he reluctantly lowered his arms and stepped back to regard her with darkened eyes.
“Do you expect me to apologize?”
No doubt she should be embarrassed by what just occurred between them.
Or angry.
Or even shocked.
But what she felt instead was an odd sense of awareness. As if some deep, unrealized question had finally been answered.
It was as unexplainable as it was confusing, and with a vague shake of her head, Kate wrapped her arms protectively about her slender waist.
“No.”
“Good.” His lips slowly curled in a smile. “Because I am not at all repentant. I enjoy having you in my arms. Just as I enjoy having you in my company. And I will continue to attempt to convince you that we belong together.”
“I . . . we must return to the hotel,” she said abruptly.
He paused for a long moment before giving a mysterious smile. “If that is what you wish.”
Kate clenched her teeth. The trouble was she did not know if that was what she wished at all.
And it was entirely Lord Calfield’s fault.
* * *
This was entirely Kate’s fault.
Not only had she ensured that he would devote another restless night to pacing his chambers. A far too frequent occurrence. But now he was near to an open battle with his most staunch friend.
He stood in the sitting room of his hotel chambers, crumpling the list of eligible maidens that he held in his fist and glaring at the man who had arrived with the dawn.
“Dammit, Foster, I asked you to discover what you could of Lord Thorpe, not to play matchmaker. Why the devil would I desire the names of rich maidens when I already possess a perfectly suitable fiancée?”
Calmly sipping the coffee that Luce had ordered, the hardened sailor merely lifted a brow. As always, he managed to appear as if he had slept in his clothes and forgotten to shave. A man perfectly suited for his life at sea.
“I know what was requested,” the sailor retorted as he settled more comfortably in the chair. “But after last night, I decided that you were more in need of a bit of common sense.”
“What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?”
Foster carefully set aside his cup, as if sensing he might have need of his fists. A wise choice, considering Luce was already battling his frustrated desires and sleepless nights.
“It means that last night I wasn’t liking what I was seeing. No man worth his salt would. That woman has you behaving daft.”
Luce slowly narrowed his gaze. “Daft?”
“I seen how eagerly you seek to please her.” Frowning, Foster regarded him with a somber expression. “She has you behaving no better than a mincing dandy.”
A flare of annoyance raced through Luce. As much from the disdainful manner in which Foster spoke of Miss Frazer as from the implication that he was an overeager twit. He would not endure any disrespect toward his future wife. Not from anyone.
“As I recall, you were the one to warn that I did not possess enough concern for Miss Frazer’s tender sensibilities. You even predicted her reaction to being left at the altar,” he said in sharp-edged tones. “Why do you quibble now that I have discovered the truth of your concerns?”
A further hint of color touched the already ruddy countenance. “It is one thing to offer the wench a measure of respect, ’tis quite another to allow her to dangle you upon a hook like a landed trout.”
“First a mincing dandy and now you compare me to a trout?” Luce demanded in dangerous tones.
“Can you deny that she has you chasing after her as if you were a beggar?” Foster demanded stiffly. “She should be pleased to become your wife. Any other maiden would be.”
Luce grimaced at the blunt accusation. He did have his pride, after all. A great deal of pride.
Still, he had come to realize that wedding him was not nearly the prize he had presumed it to be. At least not for Kate. He would have to do whatever necessary to convince her that he was the only gentleman who could truly bring her happiness.
Surely that was not such a horrid sacrifice?
“I was mistaken to take Miss Frazer for granted, Foster. And even more mistaken to have humiliated her in such a public fashion.” He paced to glance down at the tidy garden that was annoyingly empty of Kate’s presence. “She is more than merely an easy means to a fortune. She is a young maiden who deserves to be wooed by a gentleman who truly cares for her happiness.”
Not surprisingly, the confirmed bachelor recoiled in distaste at the mention of wooing a proper maiden.
“Gads, it is as I feared. You begin to sound like some lackwitted poet,” Foster bemoaned with a visible shudder. “You have been ashore too long. It softens the mind of even the most sensible gentleman.”
“I assure you that my wits are in perfect working order.”
“No.” A stubborn expression settled on the wide features. “If that were true, then you would have changed your bait and gone after easier prey days ago.”
Luce was glad that his arms were safely locked across his chest. Otherwise he might very well have attempted to shake his friend. As it was, he contented himself with a glare of exasperation.
“We both know I cannot afford to lose this particular prey. Not unless I desire to watch my estate crumble into ruin.”
“One quarry is much like another. No use bemoaning the one that got away.”
Luce snapped his brows together at the muttered accusation. “She has not gotten away. Not by a long shot.”
As if regretting stirring Luce’s ire, the older man lifted his hand in a soothing manner.
“I did not mean to imply you could not have her if you desired. I merely wonder why you would go to the effort.”
“I should think that was obvious.”
“Why?”
For a moment Luce was at a loss for words. He knew that Kate was meant to be his wife. It was a truth written within his soul.
Unfortunately, he knew that to confess such a thing would only convince Foster for certain he had lost his wits.
“She suits me.”
Foster lifted a bushy brow. “There are bound to be any number of women in London who would suit you just as well. And with far less effort.”
“Tell me, Foster, do you have some reason to dislike Miss Frazer?” he abruptly demanded.
Just for a moment, Luce thought his friend might refuse to answer. In obvious discomfort, Foster scratched his head before at last clearing his throat.
“Truth be told, I think the chit is playing you for a fool, and I haven’t a hankering to listen to you blubbering over a damnable broken heart.”
Well.
That was unexpected.
Luce blinked in startled disbelief at the weathered countenance. “Good God, are you foxed?”
Foster folded his arms over his chest, clearly embarrassed at having confessed his inner thoughts.
“No, I damn well am not foxed. And neither am I blind. I seen how you looked at that woman.”
“Of course I looked. For God’s sakes, what man with blood in his veins wouldn’t look?”
“It wasn’t the look of a man wanting a taste of a pretty lass.”
“I assure you that I very much desired a taste.”
Foster stubbornly gave a shake of his head. “You’ve lusted after plenty women afore. You never gazed at them as if you had found a precious treasure you feared might be stolen.”
Luce stiffened. Dash it all. Foster was being absurd. Precious treasure, indeed.
If he had gazed at Kate, it had been as a gentleman at the end of his patience. Nothing else.
“I possess a measure of fondness for Miss Frazer,” he at last admitted in a tight voice. “But I am certainly in no danger of becoming the pathetic wretch you have described.”
Annoyingly, Foster merely offered a grunt at his reassuring words. “If that is true, then there is nothing to keep you from at least having a go at some of them females on the list. I have it from a lady friend of mine that all of them are proper enough, with a fat dowry to tempt any man. And all more than eager to welcome the attentions of an earl. You could be wed afore the ink dries on the license.”
Luce’s nose flared at the mere thought. “Dammit, Foster, I do not want to wed another.”
“But . . .”
“No. I do not care if they all come with dowries the size of France and bells upon their toes. I have chosen Miss Frazer to be my wife, and that is precisely who I will have.”
“Aye.” Foster thinned his lips until they nearly disappeared. “And what if she will not have you?”
Luce sucked in a sharp breath, abruptly turning toward the window. He would not even consider the possibility of defeat.
It was untenable.
“I would request, Foster, that unless you are interested in acquiring a lovely young debutante as a bride for yourself, you would devote less attention to making lists and instead discover the information that I requested upon Lord Thorpe.”
He could feel Foster’s gaze boring into his back, but as Luce refused to turn and confront the unwelcome concern upon the craggy features, he at last heaved a heavy sigh.
“Aye, sir.”