“And yet you leave me alone in her company,” Luke groused. He would deal with why Fernsby followed him to Kent another time. What mattered now is that he had no chaperone. And a picturesque river. A boat shaped like a bed. “You are worthless,” he muttered.
“Never forget, you fished me from the Atlantic as if I was very valuable indeed.”
“Waste of effort.”
“Now you’re just being cruel. Punt to the dock, will you? I refuse to retch in front of ladies.”
Luke clenched the punting pole with enough force to snap it. On a grunt, he pushed the small craft to the wooden landing. Fernsby, flat on his belly, clutched the sides of the boat with both hands. Luke scooted them forward and Fernsby raised his chin to beam at Miss Broom and Danielle Allard. When they were near, the viscount released the side of the boat long enough to issue a fanlike wave.
Luke did not wave. Navigating the boat was not a challenge, but it gave his hands and eyes something to do. He’d been careful not to look at her, but they were too close now to avoid it. In his peripheral vision, he saw her posture. He saw ebony hair beneath a straw hat. He saw the resigned tilt of her head, the brightness of her face. When the wind blew, lavender cotton billowed in the breeze. His heart began to pound.
“Forgive our delay, ladies,” Fernsby was calling. “We’ve made it at last.”
“Hello, my lord, Captain Bannock,” called Miss Broom, raising her hands. She wore a hat so embellished, the sheer heft of it threatened to topple her into the water.
“But are you well, my lord?” Miss Broom called to Fernsby.
“I cannot lie, Miss Broom,” said Fernsby, “I find myself unable, at this moment, to carry on with the punting.”
“Oh no,”complained Miss Broom, and Luke held his breath, hoping the girl’s disappointment would supersede Fernsby’s fear.
“It’s true, I’m afraid,” said Fernsby. “I beseech you: Can you indulge my need for dry land?”
And now Fernsby began the shaky work of dragging himself from the boat to the dock in a lizardly crawl. Under the trembling canopy of Miss Broom’s hat, they watched the viscount’s awkward beaching. The sight was so ungraceful and, frankly, unbelievable, Luke looked away. Before he could stop himself, he checked Miss Allard for her reaction. But Miss Allard wasn’t looking at Fernsby, she was looking at Luke.
He absorbed the look—large green eyes locked on his face—and barely managed not to fall into the river himself. Her expression hid nothing. He saw questions (he’d expected this); but also hope (which he’d not expected). More than that, he saw something like... possessiveness. She looked like she wasowedsomething by him. A bill not paid; a trade undelivered. She waswaiting to collect.
Luke swallowed hard and tamped down the answering surge of possession he felt for her. Waiting for him, was she? Well, he’d been coming. Since the moment he’d left her at her parents’ cottage, he’d thought of little else.
Luke reminded himself that he did not like direct, possessive women. He tried to tell himself that he did not likethiswoman. And he owed her nothing but the estate she so clearly wanted.
The reminders were futile. His heart was pounding, he’d broken out in a cold sweat, and he could notnotlook at her. He met her stare, one eyebrow raised, answering the open, expectant look on her face.
She sucked in a little breath and Luke felt it in his loins.
“Take my hand, will you, Miss Broom?” Fernsby, now on his knees, was calling to his sweetheart. The girl had him by the elbow and was endeavoring to pull him up. She clucked and tutted while Fernsby apologized and implored her. There was a lengthy promise of repayments and assurances. Luke did not interfere. He went down on a knee to make an unnecessary inspection of the side of the boat.
“But you should go on without us, Dani,” he heard Miss Broom tell the princess.
“Yes,” begged Fernsby, “pray do not let my imposition interrupt your morning with the captain.”
Luke stood and put his hands on his hips. He looked at Fernsby, slowly shaking his head. The viscount ignored him to praise Miss Broom’s hat.
“Captain?”
Luke looked up. Miss Allard was staring at him with that expectant, I’ve-been-waiting-all-this-time look. She was so pretty, his breath caught.
“Are we to postpone?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “Come on, then.” He held out his hand.
“You’re certain?”
“I’ve gone to the trouble of hiring the boat.” He put one boot on the landing and planted the other in the belly of the craft. He made a beckoning gesture with two fingers of his outstretched hand.
She raised her chin.
“Bon voyage, Dani,” called Miss Broom, walking away with Fernsby.
