THREE
EXCITEMENT WOULDN’T LETme sleep. For the first time since boarding the ship, seasickness wasn’t the reason I was awake.
In a couple of days, I’d see my Sandro again and have some answers. Perhaps I read too many novels, but between feeling sick and having nothing to do on board, I’d had a lot of time to think about my predicament. I’d come up with many possible explanations to my parents’ odd behaviour.
According to Mr Marston, Sandro was in danger. As the future king of Rochenstein, he must have many enemies. My parents might have decided I needed to stay away from him because his rivals were attempting to take his life. Although, if that was the case, why not tell me? Father served in the army. It wasn’t too far-fetched to believe he knew Sandro’s life was in danger. I could be in danger too, and if I was going to be honest, a spark of excitement flickered within me.
All my life, I’d been cooped up in the house my parents owned on the outskirts of Oxford. Always controlled by a governess, then a companion, now a bodyguard. I couldn’t even ride a horse without having at least two footmen follow me, and I wasn’t allowed to ride too far from the house.
Oh, the house. It was a fortress. Bars on the windows, reinforced doors, and guards patrolling the grounds. It was suffocating. The strict rules at the estate always pressed against my chest with a choking sensation when I wished for open views and fresh air. For freedom. Adventure. Not on a ship though.
As if on cue, my scar itched. Mayhap my parents felt particularly protective of me after the riding incident. But blazes, the result had been only a cut. I could have incidents anywhere—slipping on the wet cobblestones or falling down the stairs. Why would a single incident cause my parents to become so worried about my safety?
There was another, rather depressing theory about what was happening. My parents might have chosen a husband for me without telling me anything. Rennie. They wanted me to marry him, and the whole ‘cruise in the Mediterranean’ affair was a poor excuse to force me to be close to him. He wasn’t a titled gentleman, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t wealthy. Father might have decided he was a good candidate for that reason, and who knew, perhaps he was a brave soldier my father deeply respected. Well, surely my parents would have never let me go with him if they didn’t respect him.
A groan escaped me. It wasn’t the fact that Rennie didn’t hold a title. I couldn’t care less about his social status or money. But our relationship hadn’t started under the best circumstances, and I didn’t appreciate being forced to marry anyone. I didn’t like being lied to or ordered around either. And Rennie didn’t trust me enough to tell me whatever was happening between my parents and him. Yes, even my parents were lying to me, but they weren’t here.
Now that I wasn’t feeling sick, the low rumble of the engines sounded almost lulling. The cabin, although as big as a double bedroom, was stifling, and the air was stuffy with humidity. The closer we sailed to Portugal, the warmer the air became. So I decided to take a walk on the deck. The only good thing about being on a ship was that I had a certain degree of freedom. I could take a walk without having someone breathe down my neck.
With a bit of luck, Mr Marston would be around too. It wouldn’t hurt to ask him a few more questions about Sandro. He hadn’t told me where and when I was supposed to meet my prince. With an enigmatic ‘Sandro will find you,’ he’d closed the conversation before kissing my hand.
After I slipped into a simple dark-blue dress, easy to fasten, I left my cabin. The ship never slept. At any time of night or day, there were gas lamps lit in the corridors, people walking around, and busy attendants who were always ready to help. I walked past a couple of gentlemen whose cravats were loose over their chests as they laughed and staggered on their feet.
“Evening, madam,” one of them said, waving an unsteady hand.
I sped up. Cold sweat dampened my skin as I wondered if I should return to my cabin. That was the problem with having been surrounded by guards and companions all my life. I didn’t know how to deal with ruffians or what to do in dangerous situations. There had always been someone to take care of me. Or maybe I was too sensitive. My parents’ fears had sunk into my mind and turned me into an easily frightened damsel.
Well, not anymore. I closed my fists and soldiered onwards. If I wanted my parents to treat me like an adult, who could make her own decisions, I had to prove I was worthy of their trust.
As I climbed the stairs to the upper deck, a tingle caused the hairs behind my neck to rise. No gust of wind troubled the air. I paused and glanced around. Aside from an attendant hurrying along the passageway, I was alone. Perhaps it was my fear, still lingering within me, that made me feel jumpy. Lord, was I such a ninny?
The salty air of the sea filled my nostrils when I stepped onto the deck. The wind blew the smoke from the stacks away from me, leaving a magnificently starry sky shining above me. I tilted my head up. Oxford didn’t have so many stars. The city lights and smoke covered them.
I strolled along the deck when I caught a familiar, spicy, masculine scent wafting from behind me.
I turned, and a gasp punched out of me. “Rennie!”
He was standing a few feet from me, dark and gloomy as always. “I didn’t mean to give you a fright.”
I inched away from him and the warmth of his body. “What are you doing here?”
“Do you feel sick again?” Genuine concern rang in his voice.
A hint of guilt pressed against my chest. “I’m fine, thank you. The effect of the green potion seems to last a long time.”
“Great.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and chewed on his bottom lip.
For some odd reason, the gesture captured my gaze and started a stirring in my chest. And lower.
“Do you mind if I walk with you?” he asked.
I cocked a brow, surprised that he was asking. I expected him to simply follow me as he pleased. “Not at all.”
Nodding, he stepped next to me. I resumed my promenade through chaise lounges, where people used to sunbathe during the day, and sun umbrellas. The logo of the Oriental Navigation Company—two golden stars—gleamed in the starlight. I was by no means passionate about ships, especially after having been sick for days, but the quiet deck at night had its own special magic.
“Did you enjoy dancing with Mr Marston?” Rennie asked.
The tone was casual, but I caught something underneath it. Frustration? Worry?
