Page 12 of The Moonstone Marquess
Nor did she bother to properly do up her hair, instead leaving it in a loose braid down her back, since no one would see her, and she enjoyed this little freedom to do as she pleased.
It was shortly after six o’clock and the weather was unusually clear. Most days, a mist hovered over the water and did not disappear until several hours past sunrise. She had forgotten to mention the beach arrangements with the Marquess of Burness and was now worried he and his guests would brazenly cavort on his side of the beach in full view of his nieces if she dared take them down here later in the day.
Of course, she could mention it to him at breakfast, assuming he showed up.
However, she did not think he would arrive in time for breakfast. How did one drink and debauch all evening and then wake up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at the break of day? Yesterday, he had barely been conscious when stumbling out of his house at noon with his shirt wide open, too drunk to see straight.
No, he wasn’t going to show up.
She sighed and strolled along her beach, her gown raised to her knees so the fabric would not get wet in a rogue wave.
The Moonstone Cottage beach was separated from the Westgate Hall beach by a small outcropping of stones that had naturally formed over the eons and conveniently provided the neighbors a little privacy. The outcropping ended where the sand met the water, so it was fairly easy to breach if one wished to cross to the neighbor’s beach, especially when the tide was out.
Of course, she intended to respect his privacy.
However, she strolled to the outcropping and stole a peek just to get a better look at his area of sand.
“Phoebe? What are you doing here?” a voice called from the water.
She was surprised when the marquess suddenly emerged, like Neptune rising from the sea. “Oh my heavens,” she said in a whisper.
He wore no shirt but thankfully had kept his breeches on. Those were soaked and molded to his powerful thighs.
She squealed and darted back to her strip of beach.
“Phoebe, I do not bite. You needn’t run away,” he called out with a light chuckle. “What are you doing up at this hour?”
He skirted the outcropping as he waded out of the water and strode toward her. How was it possible for any man to be this beautiful?
“Um…I often wake early, since I go to sleep early and get a solid night’s rest. The question is, what are you doing up at this hour? Or have you not gone to sleep at all yet?” It did not escape her notice that without his shirt to hide the missing limb, its lack was obvious.
Her heart tugged.
“I like to come down here early so no one sees me.” He glanced at his missing arm. “Does this bother you?”
“No. Why should it?”
He cast her a mirthless smile. “Be honest with me. Most people grimace at the sight of me.”
“Do you see me making a face? You know I do not hide my thoughts.” In truth, her heart was wildly racing, for this man was utterly gorgeous. Wet and gorgeous. Muscled shoulders. Divine chest with a spray of dark hair across it and slightly downward to draw one’s eye to—
It did not bear mentioning.
Firm, flat stomach.
Dark hair casually brushed back off his forehead.
Eyes that bored straight into her soul.
She felt small beside him, for he was a big man, and not having her shoes on seemed to make a difference. But she liked the size and breadth of him.
“Are you testing me again, my lord? Did you wake up early hoping to meet me and shock me?”
He grinned. “Hoping to meet you, yes.”
“How did you know I liked to walk along the beach?”
“I didn’t. I merely hoped you would. But I also came down at this hour for myself. You may not find this stump of mine repulsive, but most people do.”
