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Chapter Six
A Matter of Honor
When Marlow returned to his room, he threw himself on his bed and pulled the blankets over his face, dogged by the fear he might foist himself upon her with no barrier of propriety or supervision to prevent it. Why, he could bring her into his room right now, lock her in and spend the next few weeks perverting her so thoroughly she would never recover her sensibilities. Who would stop him?
No one.
He must stop himself, not just now, but for the next several weeks. Torture. Torment. He must avoid her completely.
Blast it, he wouldn’t be able to do that.
Instead, he initiated a formal, public courtship. Not the courtship of Viscount Marlow and Lady Rosalind, the Duke of Lockridge’s daughter, but of Marlow and the young Widow Lintel. With the captain’s blessing, they began to take daily walks about the deck, Rosalind’s face occasionally peeking from beneath her black veil. The other passengers looked on in approval, glad he’d managed to tempt her from her solitary grief.
In private, he began to hear timid knocks on the door separating their quarters. She could visit him any time with no one the wiser. It was an astounding amount of access to a woman he was previously only allowed to admire from afar. He used to consider himself lucky to catch a glimpse of her at friendly gatherings, and even then, he’d had to pretend a lack of interest, lest her brother Townsend stare daggers at him.
There was no Townsend here now, no well-meaning parents rejecting him in favor of a better match. He was the only one who could control how much he saw her and what they did together. Soon enough, they were spending hours each day in one another’s company, hours where he burned for her in ways he didn’t dare express. He fantasized about ravishing her, stealing her virginity, then teaching her how to please him…
For his sanity, he taught her card games instead. When playing cards, they were forced to sit apart from each other, across a table. He taught her games that required strategy and attention, games that occupied their minds, because the most difficult times were when Rosalind gazed at him dreamily, caught up in innocent, romantic musings. It would be easier if they could walk up on deck the entire day, where the scrutiny of others would keep him honest, but weather interceded more often than not. This dreary afternoon, the rain clouded the porthole windows and beat a reckless rhythm above their heads.
“I wonder if it will rain again tomorrow?” Rosalind’s question interrupted a lurid fantasy involving his cock, her mouth, and some tearful moaning. “Where has the sun been hiding? I thought it was supposed to be bright and hot in the Mediterranean.”
“In the summer, perhaps. Spring is the rainy, humid season.” Hence his unkempt hair, pulled back from his face and secured with a limp length of velvet. He watched her make an inadvisable discard after pondering possible moves. “Have you had seasickness from the weather?” he asked. “I would have wished for a calmer passage.”
She shrugged her slender shoulders. “The first few days were quite unpleasant, accustoming to the pitch and roll of the ship, but I wished to hide then anyway. I lay in bed most of the time.”
The idea of her lying in bed, even ill, started his lusts rising again. Over the past few days—and frustrating nights—he’d come to realize that, however it had happened, Rosalind was his forevermore. His to love, his to lust for. His to make love to at some point. Dear God, he couldn’t wait to take his sweet, innocent wife to bed and teach her all manner of indecent things.
“Marlow?” Her soft voice drew him from his carnal imaginings. “I think it’s your turn again.”
“Is it?”
“Are you paying attention to our game?”
“Of course I am, darling.”
“You seem a thousand miles away.”
Yes, because England was a thousand miles away. England, the place to which they would return when this bizarre adventure was done. “Do you miss England?” he asked, discarding three cards, picking up three more, and leaning his head on his hand. “I often wonder…”
His voice trailed off, but she played her cards and carried his thought onward. “Wonder how everyone is doing back there? I hope they aren’t worrying for my safety.”
“I’m sure they’re worried, Rosalind. You ran away from home to elope with a rogue. To India, no less.” He’d spanked her for the transgression. They’d put it behind them, but he still thought of spanking her once or twice a day at least.
“You shouldn’t call yourself a rogue,” she said, frowning at the cards in her hand. “You’re a perfectly fine marriage prospect.”
“Damned by faint praise.”
She gave him a look of chagrin. “You know what I mean. I’ll never understand why my parents didn’t accept your marriage suit. You’re wealthy, titled, well-connected, well-mannered, and…” She blushed, turning a deep pink. “And quite a one to look at. All my friends swooned for you. You were the handsomest bachelor of the ton.”
“Come now.” Her mind wasn’t in the game, any more than his was. “You were swept away by my good looks, then? What will redeem me when I’m old, fat, and wrinkled?”
“Our love shall redeem you, always.”
She hadn’t even thought about it, just said it in her artless, sincere way. Our love shall redeem you. What if such a thing was possible? It seemed a long shot, considering their love had very much ruined them in society’s eyes at the moment.
“My dear, I’m honored by your flattery,” he said, turning to the cards only to survive the tossing roil of his emotions. “I hope everything comes about as you wish.”
“As we wish,” she said quietly, watching him take his turn.
