“We can still turn the ship around,” Ian murmured against Diana’s bare back.
Her skin was warm and damp from his mouth and perspiration from their exertion over the evening. He was torn between stoking her for another round and letting her rest to conserve her energy for the days ahead.
“Not bloody likely,” Diana slurred. “Too much cargo on this steamer.”
In the months following the debacle in Florence, the Stags network as Widow had built it had dissolved. But Diana, Amelia, and a few trusted partners were still working to move women to safety.
“And I have no authority on this vessel,” she added. “The Wildes own this ship, not me.”
“That wouldn’t stop us.”
Her low laugh made his cock stir.
“We can’t put off our return to London any longer,” she insisted. “Beatrix and Henry need us.”
It was the only reason Ian had agreed to abandon San Genaro, where they’d spent a blissful sabbatical away from the world. The first few weeks, they’d only left the villa to walk the shoreline and fish for sea bream. The rest of the time they ate, drank, and made love on every flat surface in the villa.
But reality had crept in. Correspondence found them. First, in the form of Jared’s notice of resignation and his expatriation to America, with Polly andJohnny. Later, Amelia and Sunderland each needed their counsel on the fallout fromIl Giocoand the dissolution of the Stags. Then they were inundated with inquiries about the running of the various enterprises bearing their names. When Hepburn had finally sent word about Henry and Beatrix, they couldn’t ignore the summons.
“I hated leaving the villa,” Ian complained.
“You hide it so well.”
He gave her a playful smack on her bare bottom and the muffled moan she emitted made him hard again. “I still think we could have managed it all from San Genaro.”
“But then it would lose its magic,” she argued. “It’s our haven. I don’t want business to invade it.”
They’d intentionally avoided deciding anything about the future of Holt & Company and Rives Shipping until they reached London. In the waning moments Ian had with Diana before the rest of the world crowded in on them, he had no intention of wasting thought or energy on it.
“We’ll go back.” Her voice drifted off, and she was asleep before she could hear the promise he whispered as he gathered her close to him.
“As soon as we can,tesora.”
He remained awake as he cherished the weight of her body against his. Their last round together had been heated, and reckless; he’d been so swept up, he’d come inside her before pulling out. Diana hadn’t appeared troubled by it, but he was.
In their seaside paradise, they’d neglected to renew their discussions on marriage. When they’d stopped in Paris to usher in the new year, he’d slipped away and bought her a ring, but it hadn’t seemed like the right time to give it to her. He didn’t want to contrive their engagement because they needed to cover some scandal when they returned to London.
Diana deserved more than that.
They both did.
A sharp rapping at the door jolted him awake.
His pistol was in his hand before his feet hit the floor, and when he realized Diana was gone, he cocked the trigger.
“Sir?” a muffled voice called. “May I come in?”
Ian yanked the door open. “Hepburn?”
“Morning, sir.” As his former valet strode into the room, Hepburn’s eyes flicked to the pistol before Ian locked it.
“Where’s Diana?” Ian demanded.
“Lovely to see you again as well, sir.”
“How did you get here? What bloody time is it? And what the hell is going on?”
Hepburn snapped open a valise and pulled out a razor and brush. “To answer your questions in order, sir. Miss Rives is on the promenade deck, expecting you. I boarded when the ship ported at Calais. It’s half-past seven in the morning, two hours before we’re due into Southampton.”
