“I’m told to expect honorable discharge,” he finished.
“Then the Admiralty believes you did everything humanly possible to save the ship.”
“It doesn’t bring back my men.”
“No.”
Intrigue hung about the captain like a scent—tempting, cajoling.
If he fascinated her as much as she fascinated him, she could not say, but he chose his words as carefully as Emmaus laid rabbit traps. Even his silences were calculated.
“I believe it is your turn, Captain.”
“Tell me something about your husband.”
“Speaking of Lord Cheverley is hard”—especially to the captain. Not speaking of Chev to the captain? A betrayal. An admission the captain had stirred something inside that made her very,veryaware of him. As a man. She stepped back. “I grieve my husband. I grieve the past we might have had, and the future we will never see.”
“You and your husband were parted for far longer than you were wed.”
As if that made a difference. “I take it you have never been married.”
“What makes you think so?” he asked.
“A day. A year.”Thirteenyears. “In love, time stands still. Anything—everything—can bring Cheverley close to my heart. Last night, for instance, a mere line from a song sliced open the wound.”Enough.She inhaled with a tremor. She intended to lure the captain into his own revelations, not drive herself to tears. “My turn.”
“You asked of my family.” He paused. “My mother and sibling are dead.”
The disbelief lacing his voice kept her from chiding him for choosing her question. The shock had been recent. “I am very sorry.”
The captain cleared his throat in acknowledgement. “Let us speak of happier things. Tell me how you met your husband.”
“How I met my husband?” she repeated, surprised.
“Why not?”
She couldn’t think of an answerwhy not.“I usually question sailors about Cheverley, not the other way around.”
“Would you rather I ask something else?”
“No,” she sighed. “Which version of how we met do you prefer? I could tell you the story he would have told you. Or, I could tell you the ducal version.”
“I prefer your version.”
Her version? She didn’t have one. No one ever bothered to ask.
He folded his arm behind his back and leaned against the rock, disappearing entirely into shadow. “Why did you choose Lord Cheverley?”
“I didn’t choose Cheverley. Cheverley chose me.”
“Still, you could have refused.”
That made her smile. “I’m not sure anyoneeverrefused Cheverley.”
“He was arrogant, then?” He did not share her amusement.
“No,” she answered. “Not exactly.”
“I am not sure I understand.”
