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Drake smiled, picturing her as a rebellious child. “And did they?”
“Hardly,” she admitted sadly. “All their diligent work was a dismal failure. I still cannot sew a stitch or draw a straight line. My French is fair, at best, and when I play the pianoforte all the hunting dogs my father keeps at Sudsbury howl in protest.”
Drake grinned. “Your sailing is quite good.”
“My father considers that a curse rather than a blessing,” she replied in a defeated tone.
“You are very creative in the kitchen,” he suggested, with a twinkle. “How many women, noble or otherwise, can boast of catching a fish with their bare hands? Not to mention your innovative approach to stew.”
She looked crestfallen. “You knew?”
He chuckled. “Of course I knew, princess. Stew, no matter how elegantly prepared, is still stew. But I didn’t want you to think me unappreciative of your efforts, so I said nothing.”
She gave him a small smile. “Thank you. But somehow I do not think my parents would be impressed with my enthusiasm in the kitchen.”
His brilliant eyes danced. Nor with her enthusiasm in the bedroom, he suspected. But he wisely refrained from pointing this out to her.
Instead, he said softly, “Surely they have gotten over their dismay. After all, you are no longer a child, but a very lovely grown woman.”
Alex shook her head. “No. Actually, I believe they were looking forward to my first Season in the hope that it would reform me and transform my life. My father wanted to wash his hands of me and see me wed to an appropriate member of the peerage.”
Silently Drake agreed. The earl was a cold, unfeeling shell of a man.
Alex was continuing. “My mother assumed that I would be ecstatic at the thought of meeting prospective husbands. She expected that I would immediately alter my personality and become the lady she always wanted me to be.” She grimaced. “If I were home right now, I would be suffocated by visits from countless suitors—all wealt
hy, titled, proper, and horribly boring.” She shuddered in distaste, remembering some of the men to whom her parents had been eager to introduce her. “John Hardsley, the Earl of Remdale, is dim-witted and balding. William Kendall, the Marquis of Darwell, is pompous and condescending. George Mackelroy, the Earl of Bladeston, is—”
“All of those things, not to mention obese, stingy, and quite a cheat when he plays chess,” Drake finished in disgust.
“How on earth do you know so much about Lord Bladeston?” Alex’s head shot up, and she stared at Drake in wonder.
Drake started. He had been so caught up in the conversation, so appalled at the choices Geoffrey Cassel had been entertaining for his beautiful daughter, that he had made a terrible faux pas. But, damn it, any one of those arrogant dandies would have broken Alex’s spirit in no time.
He scowled. “It would surprise you just how widespread the gossip concerning the ton is, princess.” He evaded the question as well as Alex’s curious gaze. “Sometimes it even reaches the ears of a mere sea captain.”
Alex fell silent then, sensing the beginning of the tension that always accompanied their talks of the upper crust. Desperate to reestablish the tender mood, she touched his arm gently.
“Drake, England is very far away from us right now. I don’t want it to cast a shadow on the splendor of this island … please?”
He glanced down at the small hand on his arm, feeling a fresh surge of guilt. He would tell her, his conscience assured him. He would … but not tonight. No, tonight was theirs.
He lifted her hand, kissed her fingers. “Fine,” he murmured. “We will enjoy the present while it belongs to us.” He leaned over, picked up another berry and popped it into Alex’s smiling mouth. “Let’s eat our sumptuous dinner, love, before it becomes too dark.”
They sat quietly for a while, eating and allowing the splendor of the evening to settle upon the island.
It was Alex who broke the silence. “It is difficult to decide which time of day here is my favorite,” she murmured, staring up at the starlit sky. “The mornings are a slow rebirth that take one’s breath away, the days are warm and vibrant, filled with sights and sounds that captivate every one of the senses, and the nights are deep and fragrant and filled with magic.”
“Some things defy description,” Drake answered softly.
“On our way to York you told me that there is a legend attached to these islands,” she reminded him.
“I did, didn’t I?” He smiled.
“Will you tell it to me now?” she asked.
“I couldn’t think of a better time.” He settled himself beside her, feeling the soft brush of her hair against his bare shoulder, and began.
“Actually, there are many legends, not just one. I know two of them.” He gave her a meaningful sidelong glance. “Both are equally beautiful and appealing to those with a romantic nature.”
