him pause. He looked away from her open face to suppress a groan. What would he do with her then? Marry her? His first marriage had been a sham, a disaster, and he’d vowed never to make that mistake again. Molly’s face flashed through his mind. A pretty brown-haired girl with curves beyond her years. He’d only been eighteen. Young, intemperate, and foolish. Molly was two years younger and knew something about batting eyelashes and leaning close enough that he could feel her body against his arm. He’d gotten her pregnant. At least that’s what Molly and her mother had told them after their one time together. His parents had urged Dorian to do the right thing and marry the girl. Something they never spoke of now, something they all regretted. As soon as she’d moved in with them, Molly had turned from a demure innocent who’d unwittingly been lured into Dorian’s arms to a selfish girl who took every opportunity to demand and complain. She’d insisted on her own maid, had no interest in learning the duties of a wife or helping Hannah, Dorian’s mother. She spent all of her time parading about town in the Colburn carriage and begging Dorian to take her places and buy her things.
Driven by despair, Dorian threw himself into work and it paid off. Within a few months and with a little help from his father, he had bought his first ship and sailed away from his problems—leaving them in the hands of his family. But Molly had tricked them all.
When he arrived home, six months after his wedding, he discovered that Molly wasn’t really pregnant, never had been. It was all a ruse. Dorian turned his back on her and never looked her in the eyes again. He left again and again, leaving his parents to deal with her, never home, always sailing, always free on the wide-open sea. He’d grown hard, he could feel it inside, a hardening that only cared for his ships and the sea and this form of freedom.
A couple of years later his unuttered prayer was answered, leaving him mired in another level of wretchedness. While Dorian was away on one of the ships, Molly went to visit her mother and contracted small pox. She had been forced to stay at her mother’s for fear of contaminating the Colburns, something that couldn’t have pleased her. In less than two weeks she had died. Dorian hadn’t even been there for the funeral and when he finally did find out, it was as if a great burden had been lifted from him. He was almost happy about it, and for that he couldn’t forgive himself or Molly.
He’d drifted then. Free but not. Building his fortune and turning his back on any kind of depth in relationships. Women were off limits except to flirt and dally. The more he pulled away from them the more willing they became. He found himself having to use his wits to escape their entrapping tactics. Like Angelene. No one understood that he knew she and women like her had been playing their game to his advantage for years. He’d never thought to have a different life.
He needed to remember all of this, keep it in the forefront of his mind when the lovely earl’s daughter flashed her brilliant violet-hued eyes at him and turned his stomach into mush. He? Husband and father? Tied to the land and a woman he would struggle to trust? The idea struck him as a blow while a constricting feeling tightened around his neck, making him struggle to drag in the next breath.
“Are you alright, Captain?” She looked up at him with that open, heart-shaped face and big, tilted eyes. She placed her gloved hand on his arm, all concerned loveliness. He found he couldn’t answer. He was certainly not alright. Before true panic could set in, he bowed in a short jerk and muttered, “I had better get back to my duties,” and turned and walked away.
Kendra’s brows came together as she watched him leave. Whatever had she done to send him scurrying off like that, as if his very life was in danger? She exhaled with a loud humph and turned back toward the
Driven by despair, Dorian threw himself into work and it paid off. Within a few months and with a little help from his father, he had bought his first ship and sailed away from his problems—leaving them in the hands of his family. But Molly had tricked them all.
When he arrived home, six months after his wedding, he discovered that Molly wasn’t really pregnant, never had been. It was all a ruse. Dorian turned his back on her and never looked her in the eyes again. He left again and again, leaving his parents to deal with her, never home, always sailing, always free on the wide-open sea. He’d grown hard, he could feel it inside, a hardening that only cared for his ships and the sea and this form of freedom.
A couple of years later his unuttered prayer was answered, leaving him mired in another level of wretchedness. While Dorian was away on one of the ships, Molly went to visit her mother and contracted small pox. She had been forced to stay at her mother’s for fear of contaminating the Colburns, something that couldn’t have pleased her. In less than two weeks she had died. Dorian hadn’t even been there for the funeral and when he finally did find out, it was as if a great burden had been lifted from him. He was almost happy about it, and for that he couldn’t forgive himself or Molly.
He’d drifted then. Free but not. Building his fortune and turning his back on any kind of depth in relationships. Women were off limits except to flirt and dally. The more he pulled away from them the more willing they became. He found himself having to use his wits to escape their entrapping tactics. Like Angelene. No one understood that he knew she and women like her had been playing their game to his advantage for years. He’d never thought to have a different life.
He needed to remember all of this, keep it in the forefront of his mind when the lovely earl’s daughter flashed her brilliant violet-hued eyes at him and turned his stomach into mush. He? Husband and father? Tied to the land and a woman he would struggle to trust? The idea struck him as a blow while a constricting feeling tightened around his neck, making him struggle to drag in the next breath.
“Are you alright, Captain?” She looked up at him with that open, heart-shaped face and big, tilted eyes. She placed her gloved hand on his arm, all concerned loveliness. He found he couldn’t answer. He was certainly not alright. Before true panic could set in, he bowed in a short jerk and muttered, “I had better get back to my duties,” and turned and walked away.
Kendra’s brows came together as she watched him leave. Whatever had she done to send him scurrying off like that, as if his very life was in danger? She exhaled with a loud humph and turned back toward the
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