His comforts came first. Always.
Last night marked the exception.
He had given Meghan the bed.
The generosity he’d shown was one he had never granted to another person. While she slept, Culross lay on a pallet at the hearth.
The same exact place where he and Meghan had sat just after he’d bathed herand—
The muscles along the base of his skull throbbed. He rolled his shoulders against the pain.
Culross snatched his watch fob from his greatcoat and consulted the time.
Still early yet.
He returned the chain to his pocket.
There had been no sleep last night for either of them. Her on account of her unceasing crying, and he—well—also on account of her weeping.
They had not been noisy, theatrical tears. If they had been, Culross could have slept through them.
After an hour, he began to think she would eventually stop.
That she would tire herself out.
She had not.
Culross rubbed the tight tendons along the sides of his neck.
The lady no doubt still believed her acting skills something of note, but her muffled weeping throughout the night—throughout the entire unceasing, infernal night—had reached him.
If he climbed into that bed and simply dragged her into his arms until she stopped, everything would be imperiled.
And so he had sat with her sorrow.
Made himself immune.
He curled his hands into fists and squeezed them several times.
That had been his intention anyway.
A sleepless night had confirmed what he had already known—Culross could not let himself grow soft. It would destroy him.
Once he was at the helm of his ship and had the roll of the ocean beneath his feet, everything would be set to rights. He would be occupied running his vessel, the fresh sea air against his face.
It cleared a man’s head in the way only the sea could.
Culross snatched out his watch again and checked the time.
Twenty minutes until they were scheduled to leave.
By now Meghan would have met Lord Greyhold—the man assigned to her.
Culross returned the watch to his pocket.
He frowned.
With Lord Kerr’s brother having spent more years at war than in London, Culross knew little of the man beyond his sterling reputation.
