She and Drew had sort of an unspoken truce, ever since that day she tossed half the contents of his desk at him. Neither of them said anything of the wrongs they’d done each other. And the truce had a profound effect on her. She felt so bubbly inside she might have called it happy, if she could think of a reason why she should be happy. She couldn’t. Except, well…
“He asked me to marry him.”
“Well, good, at least I won’t have to draw and quarter him now for taking advantage of you.”
“I think I refused,” Gabrielle was forced to admit. “I’m not really sure, though.”
She remembered that night clearly. It was over a week ago, the same day they’d had their last fight, before their truce began. And it had definitely been an odd proposal. He’d gone from “doing the honorable thing” in asking, to getting upset when she accepted, to getting even more upset when she changed her mind and refused instead. And then he’d finished off by leaving her in doubt as to whether they were engaged. He was holding her to it? That’s what he’d said. But he’d said it in a moment of anger, so he probably didn’t mean it.
Unfortunately, Margery wasn’t going to let her off after a remark like that and demanded, “What do you mean, you aren’t sure?”
Gabrielle tried to shrug it off by saying, “I accepted, then changed my mind, but it sounded like he’s going to hold me to my first answer.”
“Good for him and fie on you for refusing,” Margery huffed, then said, “At least marry him for propriety’s sake. If you want to divorce him later, fine, just make sure you aren’t having any babies first.”
NowGabrielle blushed. She tended to be outspoken herself, but Margery always won hands down in that department.
And why hadn’t she thought about babies as a natural consequence of enjoying herself in Drew’s bed? Because not once had she thought that far ahead, and besides, if she had stopped to think about what she was doing, she knew damn well she would have stopped doing it.
She’d been sleeping with him every night since their truce started. She hadn’t asked permission. He hadn’t invited her. She’d just gotten into his bed each night without thinking, as if she belonged there. And they’d made love every one of those nights. That’s what she didn’t want halted with too much introspection. The voyage was going to end soon enough, in a matter of days. They were already passing through Caribbean waters. So was it too much to ask, to have just a little sensual bliss uninterrupted by reality?
But a baby? Good grief, she really should have considered that. And the thought had her picturing herself holding a little Drew in her arms. He’d be the most beautiful baby ever created, she thought as she felt her heart skip a beat. The baby was not even born, and most likely not even conceived, and she already loved the child! What the deuce was wrong with her?
“Pretty moon, isn’t it?”
Gabrielle jumped, startled by Drew’s sudden presence beside them. Margery mumbled something about getting to bed and left them alone. The moment she was gone, his arm slipped around Gabrielle’s waist and drew her to his side.
It was the first time he was making a “public” display of affection. The only other time had been when he’d kissed her as they stood on the lower deck, which had been witnessed by all and sundry. It wasn’t that there hadn’t been ample opportunity, since she’d been spending most every day with him up on the quarterdeck. He’d even let her take the wheel for a while, after she’d convinced him she knew how.
But he was all business when he was up there, commanding his ship. Besides, he did mention one night that he didn’t want his men yearning for port any sooner than was reasonable, that they got sloppy when they were rushing to end a voyage because they had women on their minds. She’d gotten the point.
“That’s one of the prettier moons I’ve seen in a while. I often saw really big moons on the horizon, nice and full, in St. Kitts. We had some magnificent sunsets, too, right off of our beach.”
“You lived on the beach?”
She nodded. “Papa has a small house on the coast, not too far from town.”
“It sounds a bit too perfect. I’m surprised you wanted to leave it.”
“I didn’t,” she said, and said no more.
He must have read the end-of-subject tone, because he didn’t address it further and said instead, “I’d love to walk with you on a beach sometime, any beach as long as the weather is balmy.”
Was he remembering that romantic fantasy she’d mentioned to him? “Chilly walks on the beach aren’t bad,” she pointed out. “I’ve done that before in England, when I was much younger.”
“Possibly, but they won’t allow for swimming naked with you in the water, and I really doubt you’ll find any crystal-clear coves with coral reefs to explore along the English coasts.”
He did remember! She glanced up at him with a grin. “You’re probably right, though I never checked. I didn’t even learn to swim until I moved to the Caribbean to be with Papa. He taught me.”
His fingers grazed her cheek softly. “I’m jealous. I think that’s something I would have loved teaching you.”
She might have laughed if his tone hadn’t turned so husky. She caught her breath instead and had to fight the urge to turn toward him and start kissing him. But she could feel his fingers in her hair. She’d lost her ribbon, so it was loose at the moment. He touched her so often! Half the time she didn’t even think he was aware he was doing it. He just couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of her.
To get her mind off of that, she asked, “Have you given any more thought to our plan of action once we make port?”
“Yes, before we sail to Lacross’s stronghold, we’re going to stop at Anguilla to find a woman with the same color hair as you, and reasonably the same shape, to make him think it’s you on board my ship. Then I’ll go in with the maps.”
She glanced at him. “Wait a minute, are you implying that I’m not going to be there?”
