Read Online This Perfect Kiss by Melody Thomas - Free Book Online Page A

almost two years, Christel,” he said without inflection.
    His hand suddenly came up, warm beneath her chin, turning her face into the light and returning her gaze to his. She had not expected his touch, much less to feel the gentleness behind it.
    Another wave burst over the ship. Seawater dripped beneath the door seals into the corridor. He pulled away, then withdrew his gloves from beneath his slicker. He was not looking at her, and his unexpected vulnerability struck her.
    â€œIf you need anything, ask Harry. He will be down periodically to check on you throughout the night.”
    He shoved a shoulder against the door. It slammed shut behind him against an icy wind and a storm still lingering inside her that should have died long ago.

Chapter 3
    D rawing in a deep breath, Christel set aside the remains of the blue-and-white striped feather ticking from Lord Carrick’s bed and finished gathering up the last of the blankets in the master cabin. She had aired them and only needed to fold them. This she would do in the smaller cabin away from Mrs. Gables’s stern eye.
    Since Christel was the only other woman on board, she was duty bound out of common charity to assist Mrs. Gables, who continued to suffer bouts of seasickness. Christel hoped that by exchanging cabins, the light would help Anna’s nurse recover. When Christel had returned to make up the bed earlier, Mrs. Gables had been sitting in a plush chair in Lord Carrick’s cabin, her strength improved, if her curiosity about Christel and want of conversation had been any proof.
    Christel welcomed the conversation if only because it gave her a chance to be with Anna. Mrs. Gables was not a completely unpleasant woman, and not without an interesting story. She had traveled extensively in her youth, and she’d borne and lost several children while serving with her husband in India. But, like most British, she had an acute dislike for the Irish, which meant she did not get along with Lord Carrick’s steward, for no apparent reason other than the fact that his cooking was wretched. Typically English to her core, much like one of those vexing types for whom Christel used to sew.
    She was a woman who belonged to a circle of close-minded individuals set in their ways, perfectly oblivious to new situations or experiences, not because they did not know how to adapt but because they chose not to. Such persons could travel the world and be tolerant of nothing else outside their perfectly formed sphere.
    Christel’s dog fell outside that sphere. It was hairy and shed, lacked pedigree, tore up expensive feather ticks and enjoyed licking Anna’s face. The dog had to be banished to the hold.
    Even as Christel had listened to a steady barrage of gentle commands directed at Lord Carrick’s daughter. Don’t gobble your food, Lady Anna . Hands in your lap when you sit at the table. Back straight. Sit pretty, dear.
    Anna seemed to take the instruction in stride. When not listening to her nurse, she kept herself occupied, diligently learning from Christel how to make a bonnet for her doll. She seemed like a practical girl, interested in the world about her, but content to remain on its fringes. In many ways, she reminded Christel of herself at that age. Perhaps that was why she felt drawn to the child.
    Upon entering Mrs. Gables’s former cabin, Christel did not at first note that she was not alone until she heard the creak of leather and looked over the tops of the blankets bunched in her arms.
    Lord Carrick sat at the small table, his legs outstretched in front of him, a study of casual nautical sophistication. He wore a heavy dark blue seaman’s sweater and woolen breeches tucked into jackboots that hugged his calves. Though he’d clubbed back his dark hair, strands had pulled loose in the wind.
    She had not seen him below, and for some reason she almost tripped. “What are you doing here?” she asked, feeling ridiculous the