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The sound of Blake’s alarmed voice out in the passageway startled her, and she pushed herself up to her knees, reaching blindly through her tears for the box containing the chess set. “Y-yes. Coming!”
But he was already in the doorway behind her. “I was afraid you had fallen or twisted your ankle again when you didn’t come back.”
When she heard the cabin door close, she released the wooden box and wiped her eyes with both hands. “No, I’m fine, I just—” Her lower lip trembled and she let her hands fall to her lap.
“Sapphire, what is it?” In an instant he was at her side, on his knees, grasping her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. Some emotion passed across his face when he saw her tears, one that Sapphire had never seen before. “You fell again, didn’t you.”
She shook her head and turned away from him, ashamed of herself for crying over a silly box of old letters.
“Let me see,” he insisted.
“No!”
“Sapphire, if you’re hurt—”
“I’m not hurt,” she said, but it wasn’t true. Her heart ached.
Blake grabbed her around the waist and made her sit back, but she refused to look at him. He wrapped his hand around her right calf, just above the injured ankle. “The swelling is completely gone. Can you stand?”
“It’s not my ankle,” she said, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s…my aunt Lucia.” It was only a half lie. “She must be so worried about me. She might think I’m dead.”
Blake looked away, his tone suddenly distant. “She won’t think you’re dead.”
“No, you don’t understand.” Sapphire kept shaking her head. “When my mother died, Aunt Lucia—”
“Sapphire, this is foolishness.” He turned her by her shoulders, forcing her to face him. “I sent a letter to Jessup before we left England. We’ll be in Boston in another three days. You can send a letter to Lucia and tell her you’re fine.” He paused. “That you’re with me.”
“But it will take so long to get to them. I should write to Armand, as well, in case Aunt Lucia has sent him a letter. He would be so worried.”
“It won’t take as long for the letters to cross as you think. Look how quickly we’ve crossed the sea with this fancy steam engine.” He drew close to her, his mouth almost brushing her cheek, his tone gentle again. “I’ll put your letters on the fastest ship leaving the Boston harbor the day we set anchor.”
Sapphire felt overwhelmed—by her emotions, by his proximity, the feel of his hand on her bare ankle, his warm breath on her cheek. He did care for her. She could hear it in his voice. He did care.
“Would you like to do that?” Blake asked. He caught her chin with his fingertip and forced her to look into his eyes.
She nodded.
“We’ll do that, then.” He kissed her. “We’ll send the letters and then I will show you the finest things in Boston, the finest buildings, the finest ships, I’ll introduce you to the finest men…and women.” He kissed her again. “Would you like that?”
She was mesmerized by the sound of his deep voice, the feel of his lips against hers. “I’d like that,” she whispered, raising her hands to rest them on his shoulders.
“I’ll buy you the most beautiful gowns in Boston, jewels if you like.” He kissed her again, harder this time, and she found herself kissing him back. Her anguish, her fears were all slipping away. Once again, nothing seemed to matter but her pounding heart and how Blake made her feel when he touched her.
“You’ll dress in the most fashionable gowns and we’ll attend all the best parties. You’ll be the toast of the town.” He drew her into his arms, brushing her hair off her face so that he could gaze into her eyes. “You’ll forget London and Charles in no time.”
“What if I don’t like Boston?” she asked.
“Then I’ll send you back to London to your aunt Lucia.”
She nodded, but she almost wished he had said he would not let her go. Could not. “No more talk,” she whispered, covering his mouth with her fingertip, then replacing it with her mouth.
“Ah, Sapphire,” Blake groaned, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his lap. “I can’t get enough of you.”
He thrust his tongue into her mouth and Sapphire closed her eyes as the kiss deepened. When she drew back, breathless, her mood had changed. She was light-headed, lighthearted. “You’re not afraid of me?” she teased.
He leaned over, taking her with him, and then they were lying on the hard floor. “Afraid of you?” He laughed as his fingers found the buttons of the cabin boy’s shirt she wore.
She nodded, lifting her arms, allowing him to remove the shirt. “In the village near my home, there were men and women who were afraid of me.” She gazed into his eyes.
