Page 24 of Catching Captain Nash
With unsteady hands, he picked up the miniature. His parents had commissioned it when he was promoted to lieutenant. He’d meant to order a painting to mark his marriage, a double portrait of the bride and groom. He’d never got around to it.
Back then, he and Morwenna had seemed to have limitless time. His ordeal had taught him many lessons, not least that life was short and unpredictable, and a man had to seize his chance when it arose.
“I was prettier then.” The boy in the picture seemed unconnected to him, like someone he knew once, but hadn’t seen in years. The artist was more skilled than the much put upon Mr. Danvers who had painted his daughter. The young naval officer looked brave and stalwart—and ridiculously naive as he gazed into the distant horizon planning gallant deeds.
“But nowhere near as interesting as you are now,” Morwenna said in a thick voice.
He found her a handkerchief in a drawer and passed it across. “Do you mean that? I’m horridly battered, compared to the man you married.”
She gave a short, husky laugh and sat up straighter as she wiped her eyes. “You’re like a pebble polished to a shine in the rolling ocean.”
He raised his eyebrows. “My bride has grown poetic in my absence.”
She held her hand out for the miniature and studied it for a moment with an unreadable expression on her tearstained face. “Poor Garson didn’t stand a chance.”
Robert liked hearing that, although he knew it was unsportsmanlike to gloat. “You kept my picture in your bedroom, while you planned a new marriage?”
When she looked guilty, he was sorry he’d asked the question. “I finally made myself put the miniature in a drawer last night. And felt a horrible traitor that I did.”
“And brought it out again this morning.”
“Yes.” She swallowed and sent him a somber look. “I’ll never put it away again.”
For a long moment, he stared back at her, a vow of love rising to his lips. But he beat it back. Despite the progress they’d made—and last night it would have been unthinkable that he’d ask about Garson without snarling—he was painfully aware that they’d only started to restore their bond.
So he returned to discussing his daughter. No great effort. He burned with curiosity about her. “So where did the name Kerenza come from?”
“It must sound outlandish to you.” Morwenna’s lips twisted wryly. “It’s an old Cornish name that I’ve always liked. We’d never discussed children, let alone what we were going to call them. And Silas and Caro already had a Roberta.”
He gave a relieved exhalation. “Thank God for that. Roberta? No daughter of mine should be saddled with that burden. Did you call her anything else?”
“Yes, Charlotte for your mother.” She studied him uncertainly as she set the picture on a side table. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind? You couldn’t have done better.”
She looked charmingly shy. “Would you like to see Kerenza? I could write to have her brought to London. She could be here within the week.”
He shook his head and only realized how Morwenna might misinterpret that response when he caught the dismay in her eyes. He spoke quickly. “I’d like to see her more than anything. But why don’t we go to her? It would save time.”
And he had a horrible suspicion that while he might gradually find his feet in the luxurious sanctuary of Silas’s house, he mightn’t be nearly as steady amidst the city’s hustle and bustle. Especially as his return offered a feast for the gossipmongers.
Morwenna’s expression brightened. “I’d love that.” And repeating what he’d already decided, “I also think some quiet days in the country might be what you need. Although with all the children at Woodley Park, quiet might be at a premium.”
A sudden longing to see his boyhood home gripped him. He’d spent so long convinced he’d never get back to his wife and family, he had a powerful need to revisit beloved places. If only to prove that he could.
He caught Morwenna’s hand and raised it to his lips. “Let’s go then.”
“Yes.” The sound was a sigh and her fingers tightened over his.
He loved the way she reacted to his touch. Her eyelids drooped, lending her a breathtakingly sensual air. His susceptible senses stirred, and he glanced toward the bed behind them.
Her lips quirked up. “You’re insatiable.”
“Do you mind?”
She shook her head. “We have a lot of time to make up for.”
“We do. So?”
