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She smiled a little sadly. “No. Not this morning.” A pause. “When would you plan to sail when you go?”
“If I go,” he corrected her, his heart twisting a little at her clear displeasure. “Probably the end of the month.” He tried not to stare at her body, still naked and warm from the bed. He knew every inch of that beautiful body now, from her pearly pink toenails to the small black mole behind her right ear. She looked like Venus rising out of her shell. A goddess.
“So be it,” she said, raising her chin, tossing back her long black hair.
He fell back on the bed, watching her as she slipped her nightgown on. The nightgown that lay on the floor where he had thrown it after feverishly ripping it off her body last night. She reached for her dressing gown, tying the cord tightly around her waist. Then she walked through the adjoining door to her own chamber, closing it firmly behind her.
He frowned. He had disappointed her by even saying that he wanted to set sail again. And now, he did not know what to do. The lure of the sea was strong… but so was Olivia. Would he be making a huge mistake leaving her for so long?
His frown deepened. She had told him he could go. Perhaps they should take a trip to London together next week. He could go to the docks and ascertain if he wanted to captain the ship or appoint someone else for the voyage, as well as make sure theMary Elizabethwas ship shape and ready to sail as soon as she could.
He smiled slowly. Perhaps they could stay at a grand hotel like the one they had stayed in for their wedding night. They could stay longer, perhaps a week. It would be like the honeymoon they had never had. He only need be gone a few hours a day to the docks, and he could devote the rest of his time to her. It might make her happy with him again. For he realised now that he hated when she was mad at him. All he wanted was for her to be happy.
He had not lied when he had told her that he was enthralled by her. And that shackle was becoming tighter with every day that passed. Perhaps the question was not if she would let him go to the Caribbean any longer. Perhaps the question was whether he would be able to leave her at all.
***
Olivia leaned against the adjoining door in her own chamber, trying not to cry. Her chest felt so tight that she was almost convinced she was coming down with a cold.
He wanted to leave her.
She stifled a sob. She had known this day was approaching. She had seen the restlessness in his eyes, the boredom with the life he was leading here. But still, she had hoped that he might settle down to the life of a country squire. He had everything he needed at Essington Manor. But still it was not enough.
She was not enough.
Slowly, she walked to her bed, collapsing across it. She did not want to be here. She wanted to be back in his bed, in the adjoining room, with him. She wanted him to be making love to her so fiercely that she could barely breathe. She wanted him to make her insecurity go away, for it all to melt like snow beneath bright sunlight, beneath the touch of his hands upon her skin.
She wanted him to tell her that he loved her.
She sobbed again. She did not know exactly where the Caribbean was, but she knew it was very far away. If he decided to leave on theMary Elizabethhe would be gone a very long time. Perhaps six months. Half a year. Would he forget her in that time? Would he even come back to her, or would he decide that the life of an aristocrat was not for him and desert her entirely?
She gazed up at the ceiling in despair. How had she gotten herself into this position? If she had only accepted Bertie, she would never have known this agony. She might not have loved Bertie but it would have been a calm, stable life with him. No unexpected twists and turns. Predictable.
Dull and dreary, she thought, stifling another sob.A life with no colour at all.
She sighed heavily. She was romanticising the past as well. Bertie had turned out to be a fortune hunter. A gambler. Life would not have been the safe, stable thing she had imagined with him. Besides the fact he had never loved nor even desired her.
Carefully, she wiped the tears off her face. If Alexander decided to go on this voyage there was nothing she could do to stop him. And if he decided to sail out of her life entirely then there was simply nothing she could do about that either.
She must let him go. That was the price she must pay for loving him.
