Page 19 of Stay Close
CHAPTER 7
Edie
Because of safety concerns,Lucas insists on personally handling the logistics of sailing to a remote island on the edge of the Sondish Sea in the middle of winter. He found the nearest village to embark from and managed to hire an English-speaking captain with no discernable opinions about international boundary disputes. We only have to wait for a calm day.
The fact that I’m certain he’ll keep me safe allows me to focus on knowing the island inside and out, charting it on nautical maps, and reading every bit of history I can get my hands on. Somehow I find the time to worry about what I’m going to wear.
I rake the clothes back and forth in my closet, unsatisfied with what I see. I brought clothes for lounging and clothes for meeting heads of state, but I didn’t prepare for the eventuality that I’d be on the high seas with my hot bodyguard.
So, I follow the first rule of the Summer Palace. When in doubt, ask Caroline.
The queen’s secretary has been an efficient source of advice, carefully keeping her own council on the question of Sove. I ring her with the question, unsurprised when she knocks on my door during her lunch hour.
“I have a couple of thoughts,” she says, giving me a long look. “But first I want to know if you care about comfort or cuteness?” Her accent is adorable. The word ‘cuteness’ begins like the coo of a dove.
I spread my hands out apologetically and laugh. “I’m representing the law firm of Knickerbocker, Gouss & Astor. I should always look presentable.”
Caroline purses her lips, eyes sparkling with humor. “Presentable? Your protection officer will be with you. This is correct?”
I cough away a sudden dry patch in my throat. “Of course.”
A ghost of a smile touches her mouth. “You are prone to seasickness?”
“Not at all.”
She nods. “You need something not too constricting, but warm and not too formal.”
“And cute,” I add. Definitely cute. Somewhere in the last week I started noticing Lucas noticing me. Not watching me. He’s paid to do that. Noticing. Eyes lingering on me like I’m a display case in a French bakery. I could do with more of that.
Caroline doesn’t laugh but her smile widens, and she hands over the name of a boutique that specializes in sportswear. When she takes herself off in her silk blouse, tidy hair, and carefully modest pencil skirt, I wonder if there’s any problem she couldn’t fix.
On the next Saturday with reasonable weather, I feel Lucas’s lingering glance as he offers me a hand and send a silent message of gratitude to Caroline. Maybe she deserves the island. I could request that the queen give her a title, Duchess of Sove, and a hereditary seat in parliament for services rendered. I leap into the craft, gently bobbing in the calm waters of the snug harbor, and inspect the neat fittings.
“Captain Bloch runs a tight ship,” I say, pushing my hair behind my ear.
Lucas grins. “He assures me that the weather is going to give us a four-hour window of calm. We can’t waste time.”
I duck into the cabin, where a narrow seat has been cleared for us on one end. It’s not as old-fashioned as I expected, with a wooden helm and stone-faced captain, but has a complicated bank of controls covering the front end near the prow. When the engine roars to life, Captain Bloch gives us a friendly wave, and the boat rocks suddenly.
Lucas touches my knee. “He knows what he’s doing. I would never put you in danger.”
He doesn’t need to say so.
“Gets a little choppy out of harbor,” the captain calls, his English clear but uneven. He turns to the controls, and the boattilts with the wash and slap of the current. I slide a few inches on the narrow bench, crashing into Lucas.
“Sorry,” I say, planting my palms on his chest, trying to push myself upright. His brows gather, and he dips his head until his ear is next to my mouth. “Sorry,” I repeat.
He turns his mouth until it’s next to my ear. “No worries.” He slips a hand around my back, pressing against the wall, plants his feet widely, and braces my body.
“What do you hope to see?” he asks. We dance as we talk over the sound of the motor, shifting in constant, wordless communication.
“Proximity to other land masses. Practical distance from the coastline. What the big deal is about a dumb rock,” I laugh. There is no retreat. When I look up, he’s right there, close enough to kiss.
I fish into my pockets. “Spearmint lozenge?” I ask.
He breathes a silent laugh and nods, just as the boat bucks over a wave. His arm flexes around my shoulders, taking the brunt of the hit, and I want to nestle into the crook. Instead, I shake a tiny mint from the package, and he pops it in his mouth. I take another and listen to the sound of my heart pulsing in my ears.
Once we clear the harbor, my heart settles down. The skies are gray and the seas choppy, but the visibility is good. I want to stay here. I want to forget the reports and responsibilities waiting for me back in Handsel. I want to spend the next four hours figuring out how to eliminate the space between us onthis narrow bench, but before I succumb to that bit of insanity, I stagger to my feet, murmuring something about talking to the captain.
