Page 19 of Better Love Next Time
She recognized the keel running down the bottom like a spine. The hog on top and the keelson on top of that. The carvelplanking bowed and cupped to form the hull, ending at the gunwales and cappings.
She pointed to a protruding rim below the gunwales. “What is that?”
“A washstrake,” he replied, as if she should have known.
“She’s quite wide.”
“She’sbeamy,”he corrected. “Which makes her fast.”
Mrs. Higglewaite, Chedworth’s housekeeper, came to mind. “I’ve never seen anything wide move fast.”
“There’s more sailing rig to bear.” He twisted in his chair, clasping her upper arms and drawing them inward. “Look, if I were to put a sail on you, I’d have this tiny bit of canvas to propel my craft. But if I made you wider and kept the short length for agility…” He widened the distance between his hands. “More sail area. More wind. Faster. It’s called a cutter.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing his raspy cheek. “Genius! Let’s make a boat together. I’ll sew the sails and?—”
“Girls don’t make anything but children.” He extracted her arms from his person.
“Children?”
“Yes. In your womb.”
Kitty stared down where he gestured at her belly. “I have a womb? Like Holy Mary?”
“You won’t be squeezing out Jesus, that’s for sure. Now go away.”
Kitty dropped to the window ledge, awed by the news. “How, Julian? How shall I create this child?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“But I want children. Oh, to have someone to play with. You know my father rarely talks to me. Why, if I fell to a heap in a corner, if not for the servants cleaning, he’d not notice me gone for days. Maybe weeks.”
Julian ignored her, which hurt like a needle under her nail. She picked at her pink satin sash for another eon, vowing not to be cross with the horrible school that had turned her Julian into an uncaring toad.
Eton, oh, how I wish you never existed.
“Julian?”
“What?”
“Please tell me.”
He twisted in his chair. “You need a man to plant his seed inside you.”
“Like a plant?”
“Just like. Now go and play with Georgie. I’ve better things to do.”
“What is better than playing?” Julian spent many hours sketching his ships but always frowned when he did, as if his dreams pained him. He smiled much more when he played. And he teased her unmercifully, which she knew was love.
Sliding off the sill, she prepared to be rebuffed. Draping her right hand over his, she measured the startling difference. “Look how large your hand is. Stand up. I must see what else has grown.”
With an arch of his black brow, Julian swiveled his jaw. “Are you sure you want to see it?”
“Why wouldn’t I? I’m sure it’s grown as beautiful as the rest of you. Please let me see.”
He glanced down at his lap.
Kitty peeked under the desk, seeing nothing but the fall of his breeches. But she whispered for some reason, “What is it?”
