Ophelia’s eyes rounded.“Seatravel?”
Her aunt nodded. “I joined your uncle for lunch at the harbor recently and overheard a discussion concerning the dearth of suitable companions for wives journeying to join their husbands overseas. Men employed on the Continent, mostly. Apparently, many wives aren’t keen on braving the high seas and appreciatecompany.”
Ophelia frowned. She knew where her aunt washeading.
“Such women probably have children,” she said, sure of it. “They will want a seafaring nanny more thananything.”
“That could well be so.” Her aunt didn’t deny it. “Another woman at hand would be welcome if the rigors of sea travel made a young motherill.”
“I do not want to care for another woman’s children.” The very idea was a stab through her heart. “Not on land, nor on sea. Besides, what if I came down withseasickness?”
“Think of your dreams.” Her aunt tried to persuade her. “You would have adventures, see so much more than Aberdeen. Strange lands and different customs, perhaps even a few of those ghosts that so interestyou.”
Ophelia considered, almosttempted.
But the truth was she’d had an adventure once – and it’d ended indisaster.
She couldn’t riskanother.
Pressing a hand to her breast, she recalled the repeated thrusts of the rogue’s ‘wiggle.’ She didn’t finish the thought, knowing where it wouldlead…
To wicked musings that went beyond the memory of his kiss, his bold and wonderful tongue. How she craved its plundering even now. Her good sense might rebel, but her body had wakened, her womanly needs, so long in frozen slumber were now restless. Needy, yearning, anddangerous.
And if Greyson Merrick, a rakish stranger, could fire her blood soquickly…
Spending time with the children of others would ignite a different kind of need – one that would rip open old wounds and make her bleed all overagain.
Straightening, she spoke as purposefully as she dared. “I do not care for either plan,” she said, holding her aunt’s gaze. “Neither one is forme.”
“I’m afraid I must press you to choose.” Her aunt’s pity was clear. “Your uncle will make a decision for you if you dally toolong.”
“Iunderstand.”
“Doyou?”
“Of course.” Ophelia fingered her ruined shawl and wondered when its magic had faded. Like as not, when she’d made the mistake of wanting to catch a glimpse of phantomlovers.
Now…
She drew a deep breath. “I can wed a Dudding. Or I can become a seafaringgoverness.”
“That is the way of it, yes.” Her aunt went to the door. “You have two weeks todecide.”
“A fortnight?” Ophelia blinked. “That isn’t verylong.”
Her aunt turned, her hand already on the latch. “It is when your uncle plans to visit his Inverness cousins. While there, he also intends to call on an old friend. A most aged man, and a widower. Irwin has indicated he’d like to settle you on his friend – the man is a great landowner and quitewealthy.”
Ophelia felt herself blanche. “He’d marry me to adoddard?”
“A rich one, yes. Irwin was quite fond of your parents, you know. Whether you believe it or not, he feels an obligation to see you secure in life, andcontent.”
“So I have three choices?” Ophelia’s head was beginning toache.
“Four, actually,” her aunt said, looking unhappy. “We can go on as ever. But sooner or later you will push your uncle too far and his patience will snap. If that happens, he could set you before the door and there would be little I could do aboutit.”
“I see.” Opheliadid.
She wasdoomed.
So she waited until her aunt left, and then she sank onto the edge of her bed. Lifting her hands, she pressed her fingers to her temples and exhaled a longbreath.
Aunt Sarah had itwrong.
She didn’t have two weeks to decide. She had a fortnight toescape.
If only she knew where torun.
