Cross the Ocean by Holly Bush Page A

seeing their host’s famous collection of nude portraits. Everyone had enjoyed themselves. But him. He had no claim on Gertrude Finch, nor did he want one. What she did was of no consequence to him. Then why could he think of nothing but Fawcett’s hands at her waist as they danced? Blake folded his arms across his chest and tapped his boot on the floor. Fawcett probably had Gertrude bent over a chair by now. Why was everyone else so calm?

Chapter Seven
    Gert looked at the painting above a huge marble mantle. Cameron Fawcett had insisted she view it and that their hosts would not mind their foray into a study.
    “It is remarkable,” she said and stared.
    Fawcett pushed a stray strand of hair from Gert’s neck.
    “As are you,” Fawcett said.
    Gert looked into the man’s eyes. She knew what he intended. Sanders had looked at her the same way.
    Fawcett is handsome enough, she thought as he bent his head to hers. I wonder if it will be the same. His lips touched hers softly and lingered. They remained so long in the same dry position that Gert opened her eyes. This first mate was no captain to be sure. No clenching of bodies, lashing of tongues or hands roaming at will. Her third kiss was a sore disappointment. She broke away.
    “I must be going,” Gert said.
    Fawcett held her hand in his. “I hope I’ve not offended you. I’d like to call on you if I may.”
    “I’m not offended. I’m busy with Melinda’s come-out but I’m sure we’ll see each other from time to time,” Gert replied.
    Cameron Fawcett bowed low over her hand and escorted her to Lady Katherine.

    * * * *
After a quiet ride home with Lady Katherine, Gert handed her wrap to Briggs. She sang a song to herself and began up the steps. A voice behind her startled her.
    “It’s after one in the morning.”
    “Are you drunk, Sanders?” Gert asked as she turned. Her host was teetering about towards the staircase.
    “Not at all,” Sanders replied. “I wouldn’t be anyhow if I didn’t have to wait up for you. The only thing to do was drink.” He hiccoughed.
    “Go to bed,” Gert said and began up the stairs. “You didn’t have to wait up for me.”
    He was beside her in a flash. Nearly tumbling them both down the steps as he grabbed her arms. “Did he kiss you?”
    “Good Lord. Are you trying to kill us both? Did who kiss me?” Gert asked.
    Sanders shook her arms. “You know who I mean. Fawcett.”
    “Let me go. I don’t have to tell you anything. I’m thirty two years old.” Sanders had no intention of releasing her, she could tell. “Yes, he did. What of it?” Gert could smell liquor on his breath and he swayed as he stood.
    “Is that all?” he asked.
    “I’m not going to confess anything to you. There is nothing to tell, anyway,” Gert said.
    “A kiss is quite enough.”
    “Not his,” Gert replied.
    Sanders eyed her speculatively through red-rimmed eyes. “They were not pleasing to you?”
    Gert’s eyes opened wide with embarrassment. She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with this man. She answered anyway. “Let’s just say they were not memorable. Like a dessert that doesn’t taste as good as it looks.”
    He leaned close and looked at her mouth. “Forgettable, you say.”
    Gert’s eyes drooped and she licked her lips. His nose was nearly touching hers. “Easily done.”
    She could no more turn away from the man, from the face and lips looming over her than swim the ocean home. His breath was warm on her mouth. The marble foyer surrounding them was reduced to a shadowy mist.
    “You’ll not forget this.” Sanders angled his mouth and claimed her.
    Gert succumbed to the heat and passion of his kiss. Fawcett’s weak attempts were gone in a flash compared to the all-consuming man kissing her. His hands and mouth were everywhere, demanding everything. Just as a good pirate should.

    * * * *
Blake would burn the memory of Fawcett from her mind. He inhaled the scent of lemons and kissed the