His Californian Countess by Kate Welsh Page A

Jamie was right. He needed to understand that Amber knew how to fit into drawing rooms, but that she didn’t want to live with such rigid constraints, either. Hoping to shock some sense into him, Amber put her fingertip in her mouth and bit down on the tip of the glove, then pulled, stripping off the offending gloves one finger after another. One glove after the other. A silent statement that she was of another class than Helena Conwell and the late countess.
    But Jamie was a contrary man. Instead of being shocked to his toes, he threw his head back and laughed. “I don’t imagine you learned that efficient method of glove removal at Vassar. Are you sure you want to do away with them? I don’t wish to push you.”
    She wasn’t sure, but she’d always hated to back down from a challenge. It always felt like failure. “They’re hot anyway,” she quipped, then she handed them to him. “Perhaps you have somewhere to stash these.”
    He grinned. “I suppose overboard wouldn’t be acceptable?”
    She wanted to kiss that smile off his face, but didn’t. She wasn’t brave enough to initiate a kiss. “We’ll eventually come to colder weather.”
    He folded them and put them in his inside breast pocket. “I’ll return them eventually, then.” When he took her left hand in his, he stared at it for a long moment as a delicious shiver raced through her. Then he stroked a fingertip across the gold-and-onyx ring he’d placed on her finger the day they’d married for the sake of his daughter’s safety. “I will have to take care of this. You need a real wedding band.”
    Why did he continue to pretend everything between them was normal? She wasn’t the woman he wanted and he wasn’t—No, she wouldn’t lie to herself. She was afraid of being hurt, but want him she did.
    He led her to the door of the captain’s large aft cabin and knocked. The door opened as if the busy man had actually been awaiting them. “Lord Adair. Your ladyship. Thank you for allowing me to entertain you this evening.” He gestured them inside. “Come in. Come in. Welcome to my quarters. Dinner should arrive momentarily.”
    On Jamie’s arm, Amber stepped inside the handsome room. Baker’s cabin reminded her of a library in a grand home. The walls were lined with cherrywood panels, his big desk sat before a wall that was the stern of the ship. Set in it were three square windows that were open, admitting the whisper of a breeze that teased her nostrils with salt air. They afforded a lovely view of the wide blue ocean.
    A light lyrical air played on a music box sitting frontand center on Baker’s large desk. “Oh, how lovely,” Amber said, staring at the rosewood music box that had filled the room with its delightful tune. “May I?”
    Captain Baker smiled gently and walked to the box. She and Jamie followed. “It is so lovely,” she told the captain. Delighted, she lifted the inlaid rosewood lid. Inside were the whirling golden works.
    “I thought perhaps you’d find it as fascinating as I do.”
    A knock at the door drew their attention. “Ah, that will be our meal,” the captain said and left them standing by the music box while he went to admit the steward.
    They sat down a few minutes later to a meal Baker called New England fare. It was tasty and informal, both of which she was grateful for. She had just sunk her teeth into the tender corned beef when another knock came on the door. Baker frowned and called out, “Come.”
    A cabin boy came in carrying a folded piece of paper. Baker took it, read it then sighed as he put his napkin on the table. “It seems I am needed to solve a dilemma of sorts. Please continue with your meal. I’ll return as soon as possible.”
    “Perhaps we should join the other passengers,” Amber said, suddenly nervous at being alone with Jamie in so private a setting. Heart pounding, she twisted her napkin in her lap, noting that both Captain Baker and Jamie frowned at her. She felt like a