“Forgive my very bad manners, milady,” he said apologetically. She avoided meeting his gaze. She could not bear to see the color of his eyes.
“You are forgiven.”
“You have been through an awful ordeal. You are certainly entitled to—indulgence.”
How did he manage to make the word sound so frightfully decadent?
He came to the table, setting a glass of deep red wine before her. She was tempted to grab it and swallow down the liquid in an instant. She could not let this man so unnerve her! He was no pirate, she reminded herself, but a lord of the peerage. He was sworn by honor to certain behavior, and she need not fear him.
She did not fear him. She picked up her wineglass and sipped upon it and forced herself to meet his eyes. “Yes, it has all been quite an ordeal.”
He drew back his own chair and sat opposite her. “I heard wonderful things about your valor, Skye.”
“Did you?”
He nodded to her gravely. “The crew rescued from your father’s ship told us how you battled the pirates in defense of the Irish maids. They say you fought unbelievably well. They say that you won.”
“I know something of swordplay.”
“Yes, your father told me. You do not know something of it; you know it very well.”
“Yes.”
“So you bested the first pirates.”
“Yes.”
“But not the Silver Hawk.”
Despite herself, she felt her eyes fall. “No.”
He was silent, silent so long that she wished she could scream or meet his stare boldly and brazenly and shout out the truth of it all.
“But he did not injure you?”
“No, Lord Cameron, he did not injure me.”
“Skye! We are soon to live together as man and wife. My given name is Petroc, a whim of my mother’s, and those who are close to me call me Roc. I would hear that name from you.”
She smiled stiffly and felt a chill sweep over her. As last she could meet his eyes, for he had ceased to plague her about her adventures. “Roc,” she murmured obligingly.
“It sounds well upon your sweet lips, milady.”
“Tell me, sir,” she said, sitting forward. “How is my father.”
“Well and good,” he assured her. “He will meet us at Cameron Hall.”
“Cameron Hall?” she said with dismay.
“What is wrong with that, milady?”
“Nothing. Why, nothing, of course. I had just thought that we would sail for Williamsburg.”
“Ah.” His dark lashes fell briefly over his eyes. He stood and moved away from her, sipping his wine and idly pulling back one of the drapes. It was nearly dark beyond the light from the cabin, Skye saw.
He dropped the curtain. “Williamsburg has vastly changed, you will discover. Governor Spotswood has moved into his new manor, and it is all but complete. He has hosted many an elegant ball there. The magazine is complete and filled with muskets and swords for the militiamen. The Bruton parish church has been rebuilt since you were home, and more and more merchants flock to the town daily. Even coming from London, my dear, I believe that you will be impressed with the growth of our capital city.”
“I’m sure I shall.”
