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“A sunken ship cannot be unsunk,” he said with an air of superiority. Or condescension, she wasn’t certain.
“That is cruel and heartless, sir,” she said.
He nodded, acknowledging his mistake. “I meant no offense, but it is the truth, Miss Hightower. Now, will we see you in two weeks?”
“No, you will see me tomorrow.”
Shelene left the office, the door shutting hard behind her, and true to her word, returned every day.
Until the day she braved the journey from the inn to the naval yards to find Roman Forrester outside the office, waiting for her. She peered at him from the oval carriage window but did not answer his enigmatic smile.
Ominous clouds had formed overhead, and a clap of thunder sounded as the carriage stopped. She clutched her parasol.
The hackney coachman jumped from his seat to assist her, but Roman used his not inconsiderable presence to intimidate the man.
“Miss Hightower,” Roman said, as he reached for her.
“Sir.”
She held out her gloved hand and he assisted her until she stood on the cobbled street, rough with use and age, and damp from an overnight rainstorm. Martina and her son joined them.
“Imagine my surprise when I arrived at the Hightower townhouse to find the daughter of the house had thrown caution to the wind, departed for ports unknown, without a proper escort, when I was clear that I would keep her informed about my progress.”
Shelene tilted her head and looked at him from beneath a stylish straw bonnet she’d enhanced with silk flowers, trying to impress someone in the marine office. It would work just as well on Roman.
“Brest was on my way home. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She attempted to step around him, but he gripped her arm lightly and gave her a rakish smile.
“Shelene, you are being foolish,” he said in a low voice.
“I have an appointment, sir. Stand aside.” She used her parasol and tapped at his chest, as if she would push away from him.
“If I understood the clerk inside, your appointment isn’t for several days, until Monsieur Jean-Baptiste returns to France.”
“And what if it is? Is that any of your business?”
“The answer is not with Jean-Baptiste.”
“You are delighted to tell me thusly, are you not?”
“Not delighted exactly. Content, certainly.”
When Roman smiled, he could nearly slay the onlookers around him. She’d steeled her emotions, but she was still vulnerable to his charm. Another rumble of thunder caused the group to look skyward, alert to the drenching rain that seemed imminent. The crowds on the dock seemed not to notice.
“Fine. Then I will travel the length of the docks and stop at every ship to ask for information.”
“Will you?”
“Yes.”
He leaned close and whispered, “Not if I tie you to your bed and lock you in your room.”
She gasped.
His statement was scandalous on the surface. They had never been intimate. She had never been with a man, and there were times when she thought she would die a virgin spinster. Not that Roman hadn’t tried to entice her. And not that she hadn’t been tempted.
He was the worst sort of temptation to a single woman. Maybe married ones too. She didn’t want to know.
She would not think of it further. A deep breath did not soothe her ire. “I wish to know for certain, Roman. He is my father. I have no one but him.”
