Page 36 of Lord of Temptation
She peered up at him, at his strong features. “Thank you for that.”
“I’m not simply muttering words, you know. He was a soldier. That says a lot for his character.” He glanced out toward the sea. A muscle in his jaw tautened. “My brother fought in the Crimea. Was terribly wounded. Lost half his face.”
“Oh, my God. I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t reveal that to garner sympathy. Rather I wanted you to know I understand the price your fiancé was willing to pay. I’m certain he would have much preferred staying with you than coming here.”
He could have stayed with her, but he had chosen the army because he was weary of living in his brother’s shadow.
“He was the second son of a nobleman,” she said, shielding her eyes from the sun. “He wanted to make his own way in the world.”
“Which makes him even more worthy of you.”
She couldn’t quite stop the soft smile. Flattering women was simply a natural part of the captain’s charms. She suspected most of the time he probably gave no thought to the compliments he tossed out. She turned and glanced back toward the consecrated ground. “It’s peaceful here, isn’t it?”
“Quite. And he’s with his brothers in arms.”
Yes, he was. Having come here, having seen where he was laid to rest, she thought she might be able to move forward at last.
Chapter 10
As soon as they returned to the ship, she indicated that she was ready to leave the harbor. Tristan had not expected the short stay, the hasty departure, but he set his men to the task.
In the days that followed it was like having a wraith floating about the ship. She seldom spoke, never smiled, didn’t laugh. She dined alone. Spent far too much time in her cabin. When she did finally appear on deck, her eyes had a faraway look to them, her mouth downturned. She spoke in a monosyllabic tone that was as flat as the horizon in the distance. Where was a good storm when he needed one, anything to shake her out of her melancholy?
He wanted to give her a kiss that would melt her bones, sear her flesh. She wasn’t betrothed. She wouldn’t suffer guilt or betray anyone. She could enjoy the kiss as much as he intended to, but not when she was engaged in this blasted moping about.
Leaning back against the railing he crossed his arms over his chest and contemplated the full moon. The winds were in their favor. They had no cargo weighing them down. They’d passed through the choppy Strait of Gibraltar. His ship was slicing through the water with ease. His time was running out.
“That look never bodes well.”
Tristan grinned at Peterson as he came to stand beside him.
“What are you scheming now?” his first mate asked.
He studied what he could see of the masts against the star-filled sky. “Considering our passenger.”
“We have two.”
“Yes, but I’m only interested in the one. You’re interested in the other.”
Peterson didn’t bother to argue. He simply grumbled, “She’s a fine lass, but not too keen on a man who’s married to the sea.”
“It’s a rare woman who is.”
“Do you ever think of giving up this life?”
Tristan heard a whale lowing somewhere off in the distance. “When we were in England two years ago, I constantly felt as though I would crawl out of my skin. I’ve been too long on the water, Peterson, to be content on the land.”
He had his swine of an uncle to thank for that. If he hadn’t had to run, he’d be a very different man. He would be a man who visited Rafe’s gaming establishment and enjoyed the vices he could experience there. He would be welcomed at balls. Mothers wouldwanttheir daughters to catch his fancy rather than shielding them from his sight. He would be proper. He would be tamed.
Having known nothing different, would he be content? The answer mattered little. He was what he was, set in his ways, too old to change. He would never settle into marriage. He would never be embraced by Society.
Once they returned to England, he would never again see Anne.
But they’d struck a bargain. It was past time he collected payment—whether she was ready to give it or not.
Lying in the bed, Anne watched as sunlight filtered in through the mullioned windows. She was sad, remarkably sad. She’d known she’d weep at the cemetery. Had known grief would overcome her, but she’d expected to cry and finally be done with it.
