know,” Aurora said bleakly.
After fetching a pelisse, she made her way outside to walk beneath the palms. The Caribbean sun was setting, sheening the distant ocean horizon a glittering copper rose, but Aurora scarcely saw the beauty. Instead she saw a lean, bronzed face with dark, fathomless eyes gazing at her intently.
There were any number of reasons marrying Nicholas Sabine would be madness. He was a rake and adventurer and accused felon. They were enemies, their countries caught up in an interminable war. Her father would be outraged. Society would be aghast. Yet it was her own emotions that she feared most. Could she bear the turmoil of losing a husband to the gallows so soon after vowing to love and honor until death parted them?
She had already lost too many people she cared for, including the man who was her long-intended husband. And as irrational as it might be, she already grieved for Nicholas Sabine, when she’d known him for barely a day. Her emotions were far too deeply involved—and she would only compound her involvement by becoming his wife.
After Geoffrey’s tragic death, she had vowed never to let herself care deeply for anyone again. She’d had more than enough of bereavement.
Coming to the edge of the palm-lined path, Aurora turned blindly back toward the house, grappling with her conflicting emotions. How had she come to this difficult choice?
Before Geoffrey’s death, her future had been well established. As the Earl of March’s wife she would have had everything she wanted out of life. Tranquility. A comfortable marriage. An agreeable husband for whom she held a strong affection. A large measure of independence. The hope of children.
After the tragedy of Geoffrey’s disappearance at sea, she had tried to forget her grief, but her father had only compounded her misery by forcing her to accept another suitor. At least there was no chance of her being hurt by giving her heart to Halford.
Her lips curved in a bitter smile as she paused beside a palm tree.
She seemed destined to make a cold-blooded marriage. For her, true love was something only to be longed for and imagined. She would never know the kind of grand passion that poets spun legends about, the kind of intense, overwhelming love Raven’s mother had known with Nicholas Sabine’s father….
Nicholas Sabine.
Aurora shut her eyes, remembering how he had kissed her earlier. The caress of his lips had been ardent yet restrained—and more arousing than any kiss she’d ever known.
He was nothing like Geoffrey. He was an adventurer and privateer, a man of violence rather than intellect. Bold and brazen rather than gentle and studious. Dangerous. His touch set her blood racing. His dark eyes promised pleasures she had never even dreamed of…
And yet he had honor. What other man would go to such lengths to fulfill a deathbed promise to his father? Would risk his life to see a sister he scarcely knew safely settled?
Aurora leaned against the thick trunk of the palm tree. How could she possibly refuse his plea? Her heart contracted painfully as she remembered the dim cell where he was imprisoned. Her predicament at being forced into wedlock couldn’t compare to his desperate plight, but she knew what it felt like to be trapped. And she was his only hope.
She took a steadying breath. If she had to marry coldheartedly, she would prefer to choose the candidate herself. And despite the drawbacks, there were excellent reasons to wed Mr. Sabine. Foremost was that she could escape a lifetime sentence as the Duchess of Halford. She would be in charge of her life for the first time since she could remember. She would be free of her father, of his rages.
Freedom. She hadn’t realized how desperately she craved it until Sabine had offered it to her. She had come to the Caribbean seeking a haven, anxious to get out from under Father’s tyrannical thumb. These past months had been like a balm to her ravaged heart, without the grim
After fetching a pelisse, she made her way outside to walk beneath the palms. The Caribbean sun was setting, sheening the distant ocean horizon a glittering copper rose, but Aurora scarcely saw the beauty. Instead she saw a lean, bronzed face with dark, fathomless eyes gazing at her intently.
There were any number of reasons marrying Nicholas Sabine would be madness. He was a rake and adventurer and accused felon. They were enemies, their countries caught up in an interminable war. Her father would be outraged. Society would be aghast. Yet it was her own emotions that she feared most. Could she bear the turmoil of losing a husband to the gallows so soon after vowing to love and honor until death parted them?
She had already lost too many people she cared for, including the man who was her long-intended husband. And as irrational as it might be, she already grieved for Nicholas Sabine, when she’d known him for barely a day. Her emotions were far too deeply involved—and she would only compound her involvement by becoming his wife.
After Geoffrey’s tragic death, she had vowed never to let herself care deeply for anyone again. She’d had more than enough of bereavement.
Coming to the edge of the palm-lined path, Aurora turned blindly back toward the house, grappling with her conflicting emotions. How had she come to this difficult choice?
Before Geoffrey’s death, her future had been well established. As the Earl of March’s wife she would have had everything she wanted out of life. Tranquility. A comfortable marriage. An agreeable husband for whom she held a strong affection. A large measure of independence. The hope of children.
After the tragedy of Geoffrey’s disappearance at sea, she had tried to forget her grief, but her father had only compounded her misery by forcing her to accept another suitor. At least there was no chance of her being hurt by giving her heart to Halford.
Her lips curved in a bitter smile as she paused beside a palm tree.
She seemed destined to make a cold-blooded marriage. For her, true love was something only to be longed for and imagined. She would never know the kind of grand passion that poets spun legends about, the kind of intense, overwhelming love Raven’s mother had known with Nicholas Sabine’s father….
Nicholas Sabine.
Aurora shut her eyes, remembering how he had kissed her earlier. The caress of his lips had been ardent yet restrained—and more arousing than any kiss she’d ever known.
He was nothing like Geoffrey. He was an adventurer and privateer, a man of violence rather than intellect. Bold and brazen rather than gentle and studious. Dangerous. His touch set her blood racing. His dark eyes promised pleasures she had never even dreamed of…
And yet he had honor. What other man would go to such lengths to fulfill a deathbed promise to his father? Would risk his life to see a sister he scarcely knew safely settled?
Aurora leaned against the thick trunk of the palm tree. How could she possibly refuse his plea? Her heart contracted painfully as she remembered the dim cell where he was imprisoned. Her predicament at being forced into wedlock couldn’t compare to his desperate plight, but she knew what it felt like to be trapped. And she was his only hope.
She took a steadying breath. If she had to marry coldheartedly, she would prefer to choose the candidate herself. And despite the drawbacks, there were excellent reasons to wed Mr. Sabine. Foremost was that she could escape a lifetime sentence as the Duchess of Halford. She would be in charge of her life for the first time since she could remember. She would be free of her father, of his rages.
Freedom. She hadn’t realized how desperately she craved it until Sabine had offered it to her. She had come to the Caribbean seeking a haven, anxious to get out from under Father’s tyrannical thumb. These past months had been like a balm to her ravaged heart, without the grim
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