angling his body so that the rolling motion of the
ship dipped and swayed through his body with ease. Froth kissed his
face and he closed his eyes, wondering if the weevils had done more
than threaten his crop by now and if things were going smoothly. He
wondered if his cotton was growing well, if the servants had
trouble, if the house was clean.
He thought about John and his
obligation to him.
And finally, because the sea soothed
his stubborn streak, he allowed his thoughts to travel where they
had been struggling to go all night.
Jocelyn was in no way like
Ellenore.
She was stubborn where Elly had been
accommodating.
Haughty where Elle had been
humble.
She was strong willed, persistent,
brave, and strong. She was built like an Amazon and blushed as
easily as a maiden. She was loyal, quick-witted and kind. She
called him on the things she thought he was doing wrong and wasted
no time in telling how and why he should improve
himself.
She was exasperating,
drugging.
She was nothing like
Ellenore.
The knowledge made him feel equal parts
alarmed and shamed. As if he were doing something wrong by
comparing his first love with his sec--
In a panic, he killed the thought
before it could form completely.
Damon had no wish to go down that
particular road. Especially with Jocelyn Holbrooke of all people.
If he hadn’t had John, Damon wasn’t sure what he would have done.
He only knew that after he’d ridden hard to make it back home and
seen the bodies … something in him had broken and even now he
wasn’t quite sure how to fix it. He wouldn’t repay his friend by
taking advantage of his daughter.
When he got back to his plantation
maybe he’d go out more. Answer some of those dinner invitations
he’d been receiving. He’d find himself a nice wife. Not a debutante
but maybe an older woman who’d been on the shelf a bit
longer.
Age wasn’t a bad thing and talking with
a woman with the mental maturity to keep up with him and help him
on the plantation would be nice.
Sharing some of the burden would be
nice.
He had no doubt that this thing that he
felt for Jocelyn, whether it was love or some madness, would
fade.
As if his thoughts had conjured her he
heard a small note of satisfaction off to his side.
“Ah. There you are. I’ve been looking
for you.”
Damon raised an inquisitive eyebrow in
her direction and watched as she sauntered past to stand at the
railing beside him. She copied his pose, long body graceful as she
bent over to rest her arms along the smooth lining of the Gentle
Marie. He watched her watching the ocean for a while before his
heart would settle and he could turn back to look into the night
with her.
It was strange. The tension was there
but it wasn’t strung as tightly. As if since they’d kissed they’d
become briefly comfortable in this strange new skin that insisted
on craving one another. They had in no means accepted the
attraction, but it had been admitted to and that seemed to settle
something, though Damon had no idea what.
“How was the rest of
dinner?”
She pulled a face, he saw her from the
corner of his eye before the smoke from his pipe obstructed his
vision.
“It was adequate.”
He raised brows at that.
“Adequate.”
“Yes.”
“Care to explain, Miss
Holbrooke.”
She stiffened, the movement almost
imperceptible, before she sighed, “Well it was exhausting watching
Ava and those Midshipmen, but the captain was entertaining enough
with his stories.”
He bit down on a chuckle. “Were you
lonely those Midshipmen weren’t paying you any mind?”
“Oh god no. I was happy for it in fact.
After we’d left Ava told me the taller one, Charlie chews with his
mouth full and sprays her every time she talks while the other one
smells quite awful.”
Damon couldn’t hold back the sharp bark
of laughter that exploded out of his mouth then. He liked the way
her dainty little nose twisted in distaste at the very thought, and
he imagined that she was indeed glad
ship dipped and swayed through his body with ease. Froth kissed his
face and he closed his eyes, wondering if the weevils had done more
than threaten his crop by now and if things were going smoothly. He
wondered if his cotton was growing well, if the servants had
trouble, if the house was clean.
He thought about John and his
obligation to him.
And finally, because the sea soothed
his stubborn streak, he allowed his thoughts to travel where they
had been struggling to go all night.
Jocelyn was in no way like
Ellenore.
She was stubborn where Elly had been
accommodating.
Haughty where Elle had been
humble.
She was strong willed, persistent,
brave, and strong. She was built like an Amazon and blushed as
easily as a maiden. She was loyal, quick-witted and kind. She
called him on the things she thought he was doing wrong and wasted
no time in telling how and why he should improve
himself.
She was exasperating,
drugging.
She was nothing like
Ellenore.
The knowledge made him feel equal parts
alarmed and shamed. As if he were doing something wrong by
comparing his first love with his sec--
In a panic, he killed the thought
before it could form completely.
Damon had no wish to go down that
particular road. Especially with Jocelyn Holbrooke of all people.
If he hadn’t had John, Damon wasn’t sure what he would have done.
He only knew that after he’d ridden hard to make it back home and
seen the bodies … something in him had broken and even now he
wasn’t quite sure how to fix it. He wouldn’t repay his friend by
taking advantage of his daughter.
When he got back to his plantation
maybe he’d go out more. Answer some of those dinner invitations
he’d been receiving. He’d find himself a nice wife. Not a debutante
but maybe an older woman who’d been on the shelf a bit
longer.
Age wasn’t a bad thing and talking with
a woman with the mental maturity to keep up with him and help him
on the plantation would be nice.
Sharing some of the burden would be
nice.
He had no doubt that this thing that he
felt for Jocelyn, whether it was love or some madness, would
fade.
As if his thoughts had conjured her he
heard a small note of satisfaction off to his side.
“Ah. There you are. I’ve been looking
for you.”
Damon raised an inquisitive eyebrow in
her direction and watched as she sauntered past to stand at the
railing beside him. She copied his pose, long body graceful as she
bent over to rest her arms along the smooth lining of the Gentle
Marie. He watched her watching the ocean for a while before his
heart would settle and he could turn back to look into the night
with her.
It was strange. The tension was there
but it wasn’t strung as tightly. As if since they’d kissed they’d
become briefly comfortable in this strange new skin that insisted
on craving one another. They had in no means accepted the
attraction, but it had been admitted to and that seemed to settle
something, though Damon had no idea what.
“How was the rest of
dinner?”
She pulled a face, he saw her from the
corner of his eye before the smoke from his pipe obstructed his
vision.
“It was adequate.”
He raised brows at that.
“Adequate.”
“Yes.”
“Care to explain, Miss
Holbrooke.”
She stiffened, the movement almost
imperceptible, before she sighed, “Well it was exhausting watching
Ava and those Midshipmen, but the captain was entertaining enough
with his stories.”
He bit down on a chuckle. “Were you
lonely those Midshipmen weren’t paying you any mind?”
“Oh god no. I was happy for it in fact.
After we’d left Ava told me the taller one, Charlie chews with his
mouth full and sprays her every time she talks while the other one
smells quite awful.”
Damon couldn’t hold back the sharp bark
of laughter that exploded out of his mouth then. He liked the way
her dainty little nose twisted in distaste at the very thought, and
he imagined that she was indeed glad
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