It wasn’t long before he returned, clad in full dress—cravat, waistcoat, frock, breeches, buckled shoes. His armor.
As he stepped before me, bending to put his face in mine, I braced for the consequence of my stupidity.
“We’re not equals.” His mouth, that had kissed me so sweetly, now twisted into an authoritative sneer. “Don’t forget what you are or why you’re here.”
His fingers shook as he grabbed his hat, jammed it onto his head, and left.
The sound of the door shutting gave my body permission to release its pain. I doubled over and clapped a hand against my mouth, muffling the pathetic sounds that erupted from my chest.
If he were any other man, I would never tolerate such indignity. But as my captor, he could speak to me in whatever manner he wanted.
But he hadn’t wanted to be so cruel. I’d glimpsed the emotion in his trembling hand. I’d heard the creak in his voice that didn’t match his detached proclamation.
Indifference hadn’t walked out that door. There’d been regret in his footfalls and a burning in his eyes.
He was fighting this hard and unraveling fast.
What did a man do when he unraveled?
He lashed out.
We’re not equals.
Those words were for him. He clung to them, desperate for the reminder, because he knew where this was headed, and he had about as much power to stop it as I did.
Fated. Destined. Whatever name I gave it, I’d felt it the day we met.
But awareness didn’t make it hurt any less.
As I stared down at my bandaged foot, registering the smarting throb, I suspected there would be more stumbling and more pain before we found our way.
Dawn was a welcome sight as it swelled over the horizon, melting yesterday’s gloom. The mingled scents of salt water and fresh air shimmered through my deep inhale, invigorating me.
I slid from the bed—unsurprised to find Ashley’s side cold and vacant—and limped toward the open door of the balcony. The foot injury was inconsequential, if not a little sore. I’d received the utmost care and would be walking with a normal gait by the time we reached New Providence.
The other missteps I’d taken, however, still needed mending.
At the rail, I stared out at the empty ocean. The sun glowed in smudges of pink and lavender, reflecting like sparkling diamonds across the water’s surface. Warm rays kissed my face and soaked through the loose nightgown. The trade wind sought my hair, tangling the strands as though it had nothing better to do.
What was I going to do?
I was married to an adulterer who would never let me go. I wanted a nobleman who would never marry me. If and when the two men collided, they would promptly kill each other. I should hope for that outcome and escape the moment it happened. But I was finding that my ability to exercise logic where they were concerned was nonexistent.
Even if my affection for Ashley was requited, he wouldn’t desert the Royal Navy or eschew his family, ranks, and obligations to be with a ruined, untitled woman. Besides, a relationship with him wouldn’t sever the one I’d been running from for the past two years.
One thing I’d learned was that love conquered nothing. It would only make my hopeless situation all the more hopeless.
A rustling sound drifted from the dining cabin. Footsteps? I thought I was alone.
Curious, I stepped back inside and followed the disturbance through the sleeping chamber, the day cabin, and… Oh. My eyebrows lifted.
Ashley sat at the table, wearing breeches and nothing more. A stout man with crooked legs bent over him, scraping a cutthroat razor along his neck.
“You have whiskers?” I edged closer, squinting at the steel-edged lines of Ashley’s jaw. “Since when?”
“Good morning, Miss Sharp.” He glanced at me sidelong without turning his head. “How’s your foot?”
“Good morning. The foot’s fine. But seriously, I didn’t know you could grow facial hair.”
“Not that it’s any of your concern, but I can, and I do.”
His barber finished and turned away to stow the tools. As he reached for a towel, I beat him to it.
“May I?” I held up the rag and met Ashley’s steady gaze.
He stared at me a moment before giving a stiff nod. “You may go, Sergeant.”
The bandy-legged man lumbered from the cabin with his small sack of supplies.
When the door shut, I sidled between Ashley’s spread knees and sat on the edge of the table. Leaning in, I ran the towel along the strong column of his neck.