“Never. To be alone would be to compromise the lady’s reputation.”
“How do ye know if ye’re a good fit if ye hardly get to talk to each other or spend any time together?”
If she were not the reason he and Elizabeth were floating on the Atlantic, causing their loved ones no end of concern, Darcy might have laughed at Alex’s bewilderment. He tried to imagine her in the gaudy parlor at Rosings. Aunt Catherine would chew Alex up one side and down the other with her tongue, and Alex would silence the lady with her dagger. He imagined the pirate’s shiv flying through the air, getting caught in his aunt’s old-fashioned pompadour.
Alex jabbed him. “I’m waitin’, Darcy.”
He had forgotten the question.
She rolled her eyes, tapping her toes impatiently. “How do ye know if ye’re a fit?”
“By watching and observing.”
She made a face. “Sounds borin’. I prefer to act.”
“You would do well to contemplate the consequences of your actions before you carry them out.”
“I’m not patient enough for that.”
“A fact of which I am well aware.”
She tilted her chin to the side, regarding him. “Tell me about yer courtship.”
Darcy heaved a sigh. She was like a barnacle. She would stick to him until he told her enough to satisfy her curiosity, but that was a story she would not pry from his lips. “A gentleman never tells.”
“Blast ye and yer gentlemanly manners! If ye won’t tell me, then show me. Go and tellher ye love her.” Alex pushed Darcy down the deck until they stood in front of her cabin.Knock-knock-knock. She rapped the door with her knuckles before Darcy could stop her.
He glared at her, wondering if there was anyone more infuriating on the whole earth than Alexandra Lafitte.
She nodded at him encouragingly, watching and grinning like the interfering pest she was before she spun away and disappeared.
He could not look at her without feeling his blood boil. Turning away at the same time the door opened, Darcy stood like an oaf, too breathless, too shocked to utter an intelligent word. Or even an unintelligent one.
Elizabeth wore trousers. They hugged her curves all the way down to the bare skin where the fabric fell short of her half-boots. Darcy swallowed hard. She was shapelier than he had dreamed.
He forced his gaze upward, away from her exposed ankles. She wore a simple linen shirt with one ruffle down the front, tucked in at her waist. Such a small waist, he bet his spread fingers could span her circumference.
Darcy knew he had been looking too long, and he felt his face blossom with heat. But he simply was incapable of looking away.
Elizabeth clasped her hands in front of her, shuffling her feet. “There are too many ladders on the ship to continue in skirts,” she explained.
He had to say something. Clearing his throat, hechoked out, “Very sensible. Practical.” More than that, he could not say, but it seemed to be enough. Encouraged, he opened his mouth to offer further reassurance.
She met his eyes then, and whatever he had been about to utter blew away with the wind. His senses were so full of her, he had no room to spare for himself. Thoughtlessly, without regard for the consequences, he held out his arm. “Would you care to take a turn about the deck?”
CHAPTER 19
Elizabeth was mortified. She crossed her arms over her chest, wishing she had a blanket with which to cover herself, not knowing what to say or how to say it. Not one clever remark surfaced to save her. Mr. Darcy already thought her family scandalous, and after Lydia’s elopement—which Elizabeth prayed had ended in a respectable, if not ideal, wedding—he had every right to think so.
And now, for him to see her dressed so indecently….
Alex’s trousers and blouse were made to fither, not Elizabeth’s taller, rounder figure.
She did not, however, intend to spend all day, every day, inside the cabin. Nor was Elizabeth willing to allow any of the sailors a peek up her skirts every time she took the stairs. She really had no other option. Trousers were more sensible.
Mr. Darcy sucked in a breath. Had he been holding it? Head bowed, he lowered his arm. “It is my fault you are here.” He peeked up at her, his expression so full of remorse, so adorably guilty, Elizabeth could not but forgive him.
“I do not blame you.” She reached out to the nearest furniture to steady herself when the ship rolled and blushed when her hand gripped the foot of the bed.
