The ship moaned and dipped steeply over a wave. I reached for the mainmast, trying to find my balance, but instead of damp wood, I felt warm, callused fingers wrap around my hand. One moment I could make out Lachlan’s angular profile; the next therewas only white. I was being led deep into the swirling fog, hidden amidst the revelers, until my back pressed into a cool wall.
Theodore was before me, ardent and looming.
His firm body pressed me harder into the wood. Warmth curled around me as he lowered his lips to my ear. “I thought making you angry might draw you out.” He pulled back, slowly, just far enough for our eyes to meet. “I’m sorry.”
My breath faltered completely. Even in the mist, his eyes were like emeralds caught in the sun. I could smell his soap and how it mingled with the scent of his skin. His attention bore down on me, breaths and body tight. He finally pulled farther away and let his gaze trickle down the front of my body.
Theodore’s face was a collection of hard angles and planes, and I’d always thought his mouth to be uncharacteristically soft in comparison. It opened and closed, his dark brow furrowed, as if he searched for, but could not find, the right words.
“It fits you perfectly,” he finally said, his voice betraying an emotion that I could not see on his face.
I shoved my fists against his hard chest, my hurt and anger blooming hot. He had no right taunting me with a gown like this. Making me wear something so thoughtfully wrought, with my feathers and his vines stitched together over my heart.
As if he could hear my thoughts, his features folded with an apology. “Look at you,” he mumbled to himself. His remorse wasn’t enough to stop him from drawing a slow finger across the edge of my neckline. His touch whispered against my skin, down the low cut of the bodice. He traced the embroidery. From leaf to feather and back again. It made my skin stipple. Made my lungs constrict and my heart kick up. It made that alarming thrum in my middle start again too.
Fear tumbled through me. “Stop it.”
His finger stilled, and then, after a heavy exhale, fell away.
Lachlan called through the fog. “Queen Imogen?”
I opened my mouth to call back, but Theodore covered it and touched his cheekbone to mine. “We need to speak alone.”
Every inch of my body began to spark. I mumbled against his palm, shaking my head. “It’s your wedding feast.”
“It’s a farce.” His voice was rough and hot in my ear. He let his hand slip slowly down, pulling at my lips, until he cupped my chin.
A shaky breath left me. “We can’t speak alone. We need Lach—”
He shook his head.
“What if I kill you?”
His shoulders stooped, his own breath fluttering across my cheek. “That would be a good death, Imogen.”
I jutted my chin away from his touch. “Theodore.”
His eyes flared with some wild, furious look, and he pressed his strong body harder into mine. “Then bind yourself to me. Right now. You will never be hurt like that again and I will be safe from you. We’re together, stuck on this ship. Give me one good reason not to—”
“Your wife,” I snapped, too loudly. “And the child you promised her.”
He flinched like I’d struck him in the gut.
“QueenImogen?” Lachlan called again, this time closer and more annoyed.
Theodore took a step back, his handsome face going pale as the heavy fog swirled in between us. He took another step back, and the thought of him turning away from me, disappearing into the white, and leaving each other likethiswas suddenly one I could not bear.
I lifted the length of rope up between us. “Tie me up.”
Theodore froze. Blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“So we can speak alone.” I pressed the rope to his chest. “It’s a small protection, but it’s something.”
His mouth took on a wry tilt. “Come here.” He took the rope and slipped his other hand through mine, guiding me through the mist like it was a clear day, anticipating masts and passageways before I could even see them. We passed the shadowy outlines of the musicians, revelers with goblets of sparkling wine, sailors and their ropes, until finally I recognized where we were.
The bow of the ship was empty, and he led us toward the small upper deck where Lachlan and I had first snuck aboard. He straddled the railing and started unwinding the rope, glancing up at me from time to time with a stoic look. The air between us was so heavy, so charged, it felt as if it were material. A wall, a body, a barrier that I did not know how to breach.
A sad smirk ghosted his lips. “Your hands, if you please, Your Majesty.”
