changes to the rhythm ofthe
Rhodesia
’s movement—she did not want to stumble along the way, but cut through like a shark, sleek and dangerous.
He glanced in her direction. With her veil on, it was difficult to judge his expression, but she thought she caught a flicker of surprise.
And anticipation.
Her stomach tightened. Her face heated. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears.
He rose as she approached the table, but offered no greeting. A waiter emerged from nowhere to help her with her chair, another presented her a cup of coffee.
Lexington retook his seat. Without taking his eyes off her, he lifted his coffee and drank. It would seem he had no intention of making this easy for her.
She spoke before she could change her mind again. “I have reconsidered your proposition, sir.”
He made no response. The air between them all but crackled with charge.
She swallowed. “And I’ve come to the conclusion that I am open to persuasion.”
The steamer heaved. Her hand shot out to protect her coffee cup; his did the same. His finger wrapped around hers. She felt the shock of it deep into her shoulder.
“I was about to go back to my rooms,” he said. “Would you care to join me?”
For a long second, her voice refused to work. Her lips trembled. The thought of being alone with him squeezed the air from her lungs.
“Yes,” she rasped.
He set down his cup and came to his feet. She bit her lip and did likewise. Their exit garnered inquisitive looks from the remaining diners. Lexington took no notice ofthem. Strange how on her way to him, she’d been equally heedless of the unwanted attention she’d attracted. But now she felt as if she were about to be pilloried.
She preceded him up the grand staircase. The ship listed sharply. His arm was instantly about her waist.
“I’m quite all right, thank you.”
He let go of her. She grimaced at her tone—she sounded nothing like a woman with lovemaking on her mind. If she were any severer, she’d be leading the temperance movement.
The Victoria suite was several decks above the dining saloon. For the rest of the way, they said not a word to each other. At the door of the suite he glanced at her—an unreadable look—before he turned the key.
The parlor was dimly lit. She could only make out the location and general outline of the furnishing: a desk and a Windsor chair before the window, a chaise longue to her right, two padded chairs opposite, shelves that had been built into the bulkhead.
He shut the door.
A surge of panic made her blurt out, “You will not ask to see my face.”
“Understood,” he answered quietly. “Would you care for something to drink?”
“No.” She inhaled hard. “No, thank you.”
He walked past her, deeper into the room. It was not until he reached out a hand that she realized he was extinguishing the light. Shadows enfolded her, alleviated only by flashes of lightning.
He drew the curtain, the slide of rings on rod quick, metallic. The unbroken darkness pressed against her sternum. The din of the storm faded. Even the slant and tossof the
Rhodesia
seemed to happen elsewhere. Her body knew how to brace itself for the volatile swells of the sea, yet the very predictable course Lexington set was a maelstrom, threatening to tow her asunder.
“Would you agree that I can’t see anything now?”
He was right in front of her, just on the other side of her veil. Her fingers clutched the folds of her skirts. “Yes.”
He removed the veiled hat. Her breath caught. She had never felt more naked in her life.
He slid the back of his hand against her cheek. It was as if a torch caressed her. “The door is unlocked. You may leave at any point.”
The scene crashed into her head: Lexington wedged inside her, and she, overcome at last, begging to be let go.
“I won’t.” Her voice was small but
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