‘I know.’ She dropped the telescope and stared at him. ‘I have been trying to make a list of pros and cons in my head. He is aduke. He is rich and he is well respected within society.’
The title. As if that somehow made better men. ‘And the cons?’ Please God let there be significantly more.
‘I’m still working on those.’ She didn’t want to share them and Seb saw that as a very good sign indeed. So he pushed some more.
‘Tell me—does he know anything about the real you? The woman whose hair is naturally straight, who has a sweet tooth and a thirst for adventure?’ The one whose kisses sent Seb mad with desire. ‘I doubt he shuts up long enough to hear a word you say.’
Her silence was deafening.
‘Do you love him?’
More silence broken by the ominous rumble of thunder in the distance. A well-timed omen of doom if ever there was one, although whether that doom was aimed at the windbag or Seb he couldn’t say. ‘Not yet.’ A fat drop of rain splattered on the oilskin, closely followed by another. ‘Perhaps I will. In time.’ When the next droplet hit her face she pulled the oilskin up to cover her head.
‘And if you don’t?’
She didn’t answer, but the sky did. The thunder was closer this time and cued the heavens to open, decisively killing their enlightening conversation stone dead. After one determined raindrop caught him on the back of the head and trickled coldly down his spine, Seb pulled the collar of his coat up and did his best to burrow within it.
‘You should get in before you get soaked.’ Gem shuffled over, innocently unaware the prospect made him instantly hard.
‘I’ll get one of my men to escort you back. There’s no point in both of us suffering.’
‘You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Besides, a little rain never hurt anyone and neither of us will get soaked under here, will we?’ She patted the space next to her, looking decidedly pleased with herself, clearly intent on torturing him for the duration. ‘Isn’t the whole point of oilskin that it is waterproof?’
As there was no arguing with logic and further resistance would require explanations he wasn’t brave enough to give, like a man headed to the gallows, Seb edged his body beneath the oilskin and prayed for strength. At least the sudden downpour had killed the topic of Westbridge. Seb pulled the fabric up enough to shelter their heads before he relieved her of the telescope. Better to focus on the job in hand rather than the beautiful woman whose warm body was now inches from his in their own intimate, oilskin world. Wearing breeches. Tight, revealing breeches.
Two painful minutes ticked by, then she rolled on her side to stare at him again. Without the hat and with all the moisture in the air, her curls had begun to drop. She was vexingly beautiful and, for once, blissfully unaware of it. ‘The troubling thing is, if I’m being completely honest with myself, I don’t really find Westbridge particularly attractive. Do you think that will come with time as well?’ Seb grunted in response. Whilst a huge part of him was delighted at this revelation, he didn’t quite know how to answer. Like a coward he changed the subject.
‘The sea is whipping up.’
‘Do you think attraction is important in a marriage?’
The woman was going to kill him. ‘I believe it certainly helps.’
‘Why?’ At his outraged glare she looked away. ‘Ah, yes. I suppose it does help with the...um...physical side of things, doesn’t it?’
‘If you don’t mind, I really don’t want to discussthatside of your relationship with Westbridge. Notnow.’ And not ever if he had any say in it. Imagining Gem engaging in intimacies with anyone other than him would make his blood boil—which was ironic, as imagining her in his bed heated it in an entirely different manner.
‘Yes. Of course. Sorry. A totally inappropriate topic of discussion. We should focus on the mission.’ She stared back out to sea and he slowly inhaled in an attempt to banish all thoughts of intimacy from his mind. ‘Not that we havethat sideyet.’ The calming breath came out on a whoosh. ‘That wouldn’t be at all proper before marriage, would it? And Westbridge is predictably proper. Which is a good thing, I think.’ She chewed on her bottom lip as she rolled back on her front and gazed off into the darkness, looking thoughtful. Seb doubted her thoughts and his were aligned. She was pondering propriety while he was considering all manner of improper things he would happily do to her beneath this oilskin, married or not. But then he was no gentleman by society standards and, in his defence, the woman of his dreams was lying inches away and tempting him. Intent on discussing marital relations while wearing breeches that moulded perfectly to her delectable backside. An image his brain apparently refused to forget.
Bringing her had been foolish. Bad for his sanity.
Where were the blasted smugglers when you needed them? A boat, some miscreants and the illicit offloading of illegal cargo would take his mind off her and the uncomfortable bulge in his trousers. Why, through several layers of clothes, was his body so conscious of the soft, warm heat of hers? His skin positively prickled with awareness. He sensed her watching him and risked taking his eyes off the horizon to glance at her. It was another mistake.
‘Do you know Westbridge is so proper, he hasn’t even tried to kiss me? Not once in almost two years.’ His own incredulity was met simultaneously with a shaft of lightning, which thankfully drew her gaze away from his stunned yet relieved face. His slack mouth was closed again by the time she turned back. ‘Is that odd?’
Yes, of course it is odd! If you were mine I would kiss you senseless at every available opportunity.
‘No.’
Westbridge is even more of a blasted fool than I first thought!
His eyes dropped to her lips hungrily before he tore them away and gripped his telescope for all he was worth.
‘Did you get a chance to go over the dates I gave you with Penny?’ Talking business might just take his mind off his desperation to bury himself inside her. If nothing else, those dates would link Penhurst to the Boss.
‘Not yet.’ Her jaw clenched as she stared out to sea. As an afterthought she took the telescope from him and peered down it.
‘It’s important, Gem. Can you make sure you ask her tomorrow?’
‘I’ll try.’ She adjusted the focus, but Seb had the distinct impression she was fobbing him off.
‘I need a definite yes. I’m relying on you.’
She stared resolutely at the horizon, chewing her lip thoughtfully. After an age she dropped the telescope, but still refused to meet his eyes. ‘It’s probably best you don’t rely on me to read anything.’
