Read Online Love in Neverland: Book 2 in The Neverland Trilogy by Heather C. Myers - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Heather C. Myers
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due to the contrast between the sexes. As such, she needed to look more ladylike than the majority of Magdalena’s wardrobe provided. One thing she could do was bathe. The next thing she could do was change out of the pantaloons and tunics she had grown accustomed to since her time with Nick.
Nick…
Remy shook her head. She could not dwell on Nick just yet. She needed to stay focused. Once she had the information she needed, she could start thinking about escape and returning to Nick. For now, she had to think about James, and figuring out the best way to seduce him without being obvious about it.
She made sure to wash with soap that had a scent that would linger on her skin long after she dried off. If he could smell her from a few paces away, it might draw him closer to her. If he got closer to her, she might be able to distract him. If she was able to distract him, he might not realize what he confessed.
But everything had to be executed perfectly. There was no room for mistakes.
Once she dried off, she would return to her room and sort through Magdalena’s dresses – assuming she had more than that awful purple one. She needed dresses that fit Remy’s body, that highlighted Remy’s perfections and hid her flaws. If she had an outfit that fit her in all the right places, James would not be able to best her again.
If her mother were here, she would have had the perfect outfit to draw the eyes to her chest. She would say that the neck and the collarbone could be just as sensual as her chest – maybe even more so. On a particularly important night like a ball or a debut, she might do Remy’s hair herself and curl her hair for hours. They would go over everything Remy would be expected to do in order to win over a gentleman or practice her demureness. At the time, Remy was bored to tears. At the time, Remy tuned her mother out and wished Beatrice was here because Beatrice would not talk all that much and Remy could forget that she was required to attend yet another society function.
Remy pressed her lips together as her eyes filled with unshed water. She had been wishing she was anywhere else but at home, with her mother. She had ignored her, rolled her eyes, talked back. She took her mother for granted. And she missed her now. That was certain.
Before Remy could stop herself, her tears started to fall. Her makeup was ruined, her eyes were red. She missed her mother. She missed her father. As much as she liked Nick and the crew and sailing around on ships and not being responsible for anyone but herself, she missed her home.
A knock interrupted her sobs – she realized she was sobbing only when another noise interrupted her – but the door swooped open before she could rub the tears off her face. There stood James, and he looked devastatingly handsome that it almost hurt her to look at him. He wore a white tunic that clung to his frame and blue, high-waisted breeches. On his feet with ebony-colored boots so clean, she could see her reflection in them.
“You are crying.”
The words spoken together made sense, but James seemed confused at best. Remy blinked a few times in order to clear up her vision so she could see him better. He stepped in her room so he was able to close the door behind him; however, once he did so, he did not step in any further. In fact, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but here.
“Why are you crying?” he asked, his voice hesitant, as though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.
“Because I miss my home,” she replied honestly. Her tone was rough, soft, raw.
“You miss Grey and the Black Star?” James asked, tilting his head to the side. “The crew on his ship?”
“No,” Remy said, shaking her head. A couple of curls sprung loose from their confines and fell in her face as she did so. “I miss my home. That ship,
Nick…
Remy shook her head. She could not dwell on Nick just yet. She needed to stay focused. Once she had the information she needed, she could start thinking about escape and returning to Nick. For now, she had to think about James, and figuring out the best way to seduce him without being obvious about it.
She made sure to wash with soap that had a scent that would linger on her skin long after she dried off. If he could smell her from a few paces away, it might draw him closer to her. If he got closer to her, she might be able to distract him. If she was able to distract him, he might not realize what he confessed.
But everything had to be executed perfectly. There was no room for mistakes.
Once she dried off, she would return to her room and sort through Magdalena’s dresses – assuming she had more than that awful purple one. She needed dresses that fit Remy’s body, that highlighted Remy’s perfections and hid her flaws. If she had an outfit that fit her in all the right places, James would not be able to best her again.
If her mother were here, she would have had the perfect outfit to draw the eyes to her chest. She would say that the neck and the collarbone could be just as sensual as her chest – maybe even more so. On a particularly important night like a ball or a debut, she might do Remy’s hair herself and curl her hair for hours. They would go over everything Remy would be expected to do in order to win over a gentleman or practice her demureness. At the time, Remy was bored to tears. At the time, Remy tuned her mother out and wished Beatrice was here because Beatrice would not talk all that much and Remy could forget that she was required to attend yet another society function.
Remy pressed her lips together as her eyes filled with unshed water. She had been wishing she was anywhere else but at home, with her mother. She had ignored her, rolled her eyes, talked back. She took her mother for granted. And she missed her now. That was certain.
Before Remy could stop herself, her tears started to fall. Her makeup was ruined, her eyes were red. She missed her mother. She missed her father. As much as she liked Nick and the crew and sailing around on ships and not being responsible for anyone but herself, she missed her home.
A knock interrupted her sobs – she realized she was sobbing only when another noise interrupted her – but the door swooped open before she could rub the tears off her face. There stood James, and he looked devastatingly handsome that it almost hurt her to look at him. He wore a white tunic that clung to his frame and blue, high-waisted breeches. On his feet with ebony-colored boots so clean, she could see her reflection in them.
“You are crying.”
The words spoken together made sense, but James seemed confused at best. Remy blinked a few times in order to clear up her vision so she could see him better. He stepped in her room so he was able to close the door behind him; however, once he did so, he did not step in any further. In fact, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but here.
“Why are you crying?” he asked, his voice hesitant, as though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.
“Because I miss my home,” she replied honestly. Her tone was rough, soft, raw.
“You miss Grey and the Black Star?” James asked, tilting his head to the side. “The crew on his ship?”
“No,” Remy said, shaking her head. A couple of curls sprung loose from their confines and fell in her face as she did so. “I miss my home. That ship,
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