But he hadn’t.
He had asked her to marry him.
Then he had kissed her.
Not merely a kiss either—but the kind her sisters and cousins whispered about in secret corners. The kind that left a woman breathless and trembling and forever altered.
The kind Meghan had secretly, desperately longed to know.
“…What did it matter when I was in love with a man who loved my sister and never even noticed me…?”
Now she knew his kiss and would have to accept that it was all he could give.
It should be enough.
But it wasn’t.
Meghan was selfish, selfish,selfish.
After confessing how impossible it had been knowing she was Linnie’s second, she had handed her heart over to him…and he…
“…If you’ll excuse me. There is a matter of great urgency…”
At least, he had said excuse me.
Tears filled her tired eyes.
Another wild pitch of the ship wrenched an angry moan from her lips. Curling onto her side, she drew her knees to her chest and glared resentfully at the ceiling as the vessel climbed another steep swell and then plunged down again, precipitous and merciless.
Just like that, apparently, she would perish.
But then, all the best gothic novels ended with one of the characters tragically cut down. Usually it was a blade or a pistol.
For Meghan, it would be the sea.
Linnie had not perished so. Thank God. Meghan would hand Satan her soul for her sister’s happiness—she had done that very thing last year. But the fact Meghan was her sister’s second in every way, worth noting.
Another tear sneaked free. She dashed it away.
August had stolen her heart.
This was a fitting end for their story.
In fact, that would be a perfect title for her almost-love-story.
The Earl Who Stole Her Heart and the Sea That Killed Her.
Yes. Very dramatic.
She sniffed miserably.
Oh God.
There was no hope.
Knock.
One knock.
