From the beginning, when the lawyer had read the will, she’d fought not to let it hurt, not to feel as though her father hadn’t loved her. “It’s what fathers do, isn’t it? Leave the business to their sons. Father left me his watch. It was far more personal and precious to me.”
“But you poured your heart and soul into the writing machine.”
“We have our investors now, and Sam has given me permission to do what I will with the factory—as long it makes a profit.” She shook her head. None of this was making any sense. “I don’t understand how you have any shares. We sold forty-nine percent of the company. Sam knows it’s important that we keep a majority, that we keep fifty-one percent. He wouldn’t have sold”—she felt ill—“tell me he didn’t sell you any of his portion of the company.”
“He’s a hard bargainer, your brother. He knows a desperate man when he sees one.”
Her hands balled into fists. She wanted to strike him, knock him into the sea, and then return to London to smack Sam. “He promised me he wouldn’t. How much did he sell you?”
His curled fingers got to within a hairsbreadth of her cheek before he dropped them to his side. “All of the shares he had left.”
She turned her attention back to the sea, to the speck of land that would soon be beyond sight. Just like her factory, moving beyond reach. “If you’re as smart as I think you are, you’ll hire me to manage your factory.”
“Why should I?”
She glared at him. “I know everything there is to know about the writing machine. And what changes need to be made at the factory to make it viable for producing. I expect a handsome salary.”
“I won’t be hiring you, Miss Garrison.” He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a thin packet, and extended it toward her. “You’re the majority shareholder in the company, not I.”
As though it could suddenly explode, she stared at the object he was holding. Perhaps it was merely a dream and she wasn’t on a ship, but in her bed. Or it was an illusion brought on by inhaling too much salt air. Or maybe it was the result of drinking too much absinthe, and everything that had transpired that first night and beyond was simply one long, continuing hallucination.
She hated that her fingers trembled as she took his offering, loosened the string, and studied the writingthat bore her name. But something was wrong... because it didn’t indicate she was the majority shareholder. No, indeed. She was the only one. “I don’t understand. The duchess—”
“She, too, knows a desperate man when she sees one. Her ladies were more than happy to make a tidy profit now instead of waiting what could be months... or years.”
“Why did you do this?” And why didn’t he simply give it to her while they were on land?
“Your father should have left at least half the company—if not all of it—to you,” he said quietly. “I merely righted an injustice.”
As he was doing with his father’s bastards. This man who asked for little, yet gave so much. Who’d captured her heart.
His brow creased slightly. “Why you?” he asked solemnly.
Her body tensed and she scanned his features, striving to determine precisely what he was asking. “What?”
“I’m thirty-one years old, and until you, I’d never taken pleasure by being buried inside a woman. I took pleasure with hands or mouth, striving to discover all the various ways that the flesh could be replete with satisfaction. But with our first kiss”—he shook his head—“no, even before my lips ever touched yours, with your first command—no names—all I wanted to do was break the vow I made to never even risk being responsible for the bringing of a bastard into this world.”
“I don’t understand.”
“What don’t you understand?”
“Are you telling me... you were... a virgin?”
He arched a brow and tilted his head. “Until you, yes.”
“Because you wanted no bastards.”
He nodded. “And that was the only way to guarantee it.”
“But you’re so skilled when it comes to sexual encounters.”
“As I said, I practiced all the numerous ways to find pleasure before the consummation. But what transpired between us in the greenhouse made me realize that I’m not so strong and righteous after all. I am my father’s son.”
Feeling as though she’d been bludgeoned, she cradled his face. “No, you’re not. Not in any manner. I never knew him, but I’ve seen the results of his existence. And I saw you striving to undo the damage he had done. You’re not responsible for his actions, and you are nothing, nothing like him. You’re good and kind and—”
“And yet you left me. You gave me a farewell kiss. A farewell fuck to be honest.”
“Because we were being forced into marriage and we’d both come to resent it after a while, if we didn’t resent it already.”
