Page 94 of The English Duke
He was going to marry Josephine.
He’d never known she’d been in his bed.
She wasnotgoing to think of him. Instead, her thoughts should be focused on what she was doing.
If the changes she made to the guidance system worked, theGoldfishwould reach the rowboat. In an armament test, the nose would be filled with explosives, but only after she’d proved the vessel design was both seaworthy and accurate.
TheGoldfishbobbed in the water, buoyant and eager. Stretching out on the dock on her stomach, she reached into the water and placed her hand on the rounded hull of the ship. After saying a quick and fervent prayer, she turned the lever midpoint on the ship.
Air bubbles exploded on the surface as theGoldfishtook off, racing beneath the water. A few seconds later she lost sight of the ship as the wire tightened.
Where was it?
She rose to her feet, brushing off her skirt. No air bubbles were visible between the dock and the rowboat. Either theGoldfishhad sunk or it had gone off in another direction.
She’d been wrong. The changes to the guidance system hadn’t worked. The disappointment was sharp and painful. Blinking back her tears, she began to pull on the wire to retrieve the vessel. Only then did she hear Sam’s screaming.
“Miss Martha! Miss Martha!”
He was nearly overturning the boat by leaning over the side. Any caution she might have shouted to him was silenced when he retrieved theGoldfishand stood, his face split by a wide smile.
She’d been right. She’d been right. No, her father had been right. TheGoldfishhad made the journey from the dock to the target as straight as an arrow. It had dived deeper than she’d planned, but it had made it.
She clutched her arms to her chest, bit her lip, and didn’t try to stop the tears from flowing. A moment later, overcome, she flung her arms outward as if wanting to embrace the whole world at that moment. Exhilaration filled her even as she wept. Tears mixed with her laughter.
She did it!
Despite his irritation at Josephine’s words, Jordan discovered she was right; it was some distance to the cottage. By the time he reached it he was limping badly, twinges in his leg warning him he’d overdone it. Any discomfort, however, was forgotten when he caught sight of Martha at the end of the nearby dock.
Her arms were flung out, her skirts belling around her as she twirled like a child. Her hair was a cloud around her head as she laughed.
Beyond her was a boy standing in a rowboat holding a ship resembling Bessie.
Jordan reached the dock, getting halfway to the end before she noticed him. Then she surprised him by picking up her skirts in both hands and racing to him.
“It works!” she said, her voice bubbling with joy. “Jordan, it works. It hit the target. It works!”
She nearly knocked him over in her enthusiasm. He steadied himself by reaching around her waist with one arm and holding her tight.
“Oh, Jordan,” she said, tipping her head back to look up at him, “it works!”
He was immediately bombarded by two emotions: excitement that she’d figured out the problem and disappointment that he hadn’t been the one to do so.
He wanted to ask what she’d done. He almost formed the words before they simply vanished. Her smile captivated him. Staring down into her warm brown eyes, he found himself lost in her happiness.
Her hands flattened against his chest, then crept up to his shoulders as the smile melted from her face.
Moving closer, he bent his head, his gaze never leaving hers. The bright glow of excitement on her face faded as did every caution in his mind. All he knew was that he had to kiss her. It was as vital as drawing breath, drinking water, something elemental to life itself.
Her lips were soft. She gasped as she opened her mouth to him. He wished he had two free hands to embrace her, but one was still holding on to his walking stick to retain his balance. The other pressed against her back, bringing her forward.
He could feel the shape of her long legs through the thin dress she wore. Her breasts pressed above her corset. He knew her body, the curve of her waist measured by his thumb, the indentation of her back where his palm pressed.
She smelled of copper, a distinctive metal tang, sunlight, and water. All scents so normal to him that she could have been an extension of himself. But she wasn’t. She was all woman, irresistible and soft. His hand relinquished its possession of her waist to rest on the edge of her jaw, his thumb stroking the delicacy of her heated cheek.
He moved his head slightly, took command of her mouth, his tongue darting in to taste her. She sighed and the sound speared through him, making him feel as if he was the conqueror and she the vanquished.
He wanted her.
