pride. Thinking perhaps he wished to be alone for a moment, he stepped by him.
“I’ll take this on up to your room, m’lord.”
“What? Oh yes, thank you.” Raven was unaccustomed to being addressed in that fashion, and needing some time to get used to it, he was indeed glad to have a few moments to gather his thoughts before entering the house. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze focused on the Jamaican Wind anchored in the bay. He had always felt more at home on the sea than on land, and despite what he knew would be an entirely new set of responsibilities, he did not want his life ever to change.
Startled by the sound of Eden’s voice, Raven wheeled around to find her running toward him. She was dressed in a gray gown she had worn for one of their afternoon outings, but his opinion of her was so low, he was not surprised to find she had not chosen to wear black as any other newly widowed woman surely would have.
“Eden,” was all he managed to gasp before she threw herself into his arms.
“Oh Raven, I knew you’d not disappoint me!” Eden hugged him tightly, enormously relieved and reassured by his presence. She closed her eyes and held on to him for a long moment, grateful for his warmth when she felt chilled clear to the bone. Raven was shocked by the enthusiasm of Eden’s greeting until he remembered that she had always been a far more demonstrative person than he. Certain they were being observed from the house by the servants, and possibly a great many people paying sympathy calls, he responded by enfolding her in a light embrace and patted her back with what he hoped would pass for a soothing rhythm.
To his utter dismay, he immediately discovered the sensation of holding the fair beauty was far more pleasurable than merely dancing with her had been. She was pressing her whole body against his as though he were her dearest relative, and even though he was appalled by her boldness, he had to fight the nearly overwhelming impulse to cling to her just as tightly.
Her perfume was a light floral scent that not only clung to her somber clothing but also graced her tawny hair. As she lay her head against his chest, her upswept curls brushed his chin like a silken caress, sending his senses reeling. He was unable to draw a breath for a moment as with a lover’s grace Eden swayed against him. Appalled by the speed of his body’s predictable and, he was certain, totally inappropriate response, he forced himself to grasp her waist firmly and pushed her an arm’s length away.
“Forgive me,” Eden begged, for a few seconds as disoriented as Raven. The usually aloof young man’s embrace had been so like that of her beloved husband that she knew she had lingered in his arms far too long. Not ashamed to admit how badly she needed his comfort, however, she attempted to smile as bravely as she had all day.
“Would you like to sit with Alex for a while before I tell them to close the coffin?” she asked considerately.
Not even tempted to spend a few minutes alone with the dead man, Raven shook his head. “No, thank you. I want to remember him as he was.”
Eden took Raven’s arm as they started toward the double doors that led into the house. “I wish I had been able to do that but he died in my arms. One minute we were laughing together, and in the next he was gone. Did Peter tell you what happened?”
“Yes.” Raven knew it would be polite to inquire how she was getting along, but the answer was too obvious to merit wasting his breath. Eden was doing beautifully. He stood by her side as she calmly gave Jonathan Abbot, the butler, the order to close Alex’s coffin and see that it was promptly delivered to the church in Exeter. Apparently she had been awaiting his arrival, and now saw no reason for further delay. Raven reminded himself that Alex had been dead for three days, but still Eden’s haste to have the funeral struck him as unseemly.
Eden slipped her hand into
“I’ll take this on up to your room, m’lord.”
“What? Oh yes, thank you.” Raven was unaccustomed to being addressed in that fashion, and needing some time to get used to it, he was indeed glad to have a few moments to gather his thoughts before entering the house. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze focused on the Jamaican Wind anchored in the bay. He had always felt more at home on the sea than on land, and despite what he knew would be an entirely new set of responsibilities, he did not want his life ever to change.
Startled by the sound of Eden’s voice, Raven wheeled around to find her running toward him. She was dressed in a gray gown she had worn for one of their afternoon outings, but his opinion of her was so low, he was not surprised to find she had not chosen to wear black as any other newly widowed woman surely would have.
“Eden,” was all he managed to gasp before she threw herself into his arms.
“Oh Raven, I knew you’d not disappoint me!” Eden hugged him tightly, enormously relieved and reassured by his presence. She closed her eyes and held on to him for a long moment, grateful for his warmth when she felt chilled clear to the bone. Raven was shocked by the enthusiasm of Eden’s greeting until he remembered that she had always been a far more demonstrative person than he. Certain they were being observed from the house by the servants, and possibly a great many people paying sympathy calls, he responded by enfolding her in a light embrace and patted her back with what he hoped would pass for a soothing rhythm.
To his utter dismay, he immediately discovered the sensation of holding the fair beauty was far more pleasurable than merely dancing with her had been. She was pressing her whole body against his as though he were her dearest relative, and even though he was appalled by her boldness, he had to fight the nearly overwhelming impulse to cling to her just as tightly.
Her perfume was a light floral scent that not only clung to her somber clothing but also graced her tawny hair. As she lay her head against his chest, her upswept curls brushed his chin like a silken caress, sending his senses reeling. He was unable to draw a breath for a moment as with a lover’s grace Eden swayed against him. Appalled by the speed of his body’s predictable and, he was certain, totally inappropriate response, he forced himself to grasp her waist firmly and pushed her an arm’s length away.
“Forgive me,” Eden begged, for a few seconds as disoriented as Raven. The usually aloof young man’s embrace had been so like that of her beloved husband that she knew she had lingered in his arms far too long. Not ashamed to admit how badly she needed his comfort, however, she attempted to smile as bravely as she had all day.
“Would you like to sit with Alex for a while before I tell them to close the coffin?” she asked considerately.
Not even tempted to spend a few minutes alone with the dead man, Raven shook his head. “No, thank you. I want to remember him as he was.”
Eden took Raven’s arm as they started toward the double doors that led into the house. “I wish I had been able to do that but he died in my arms. One minute we were laughing together, and in the next he was gone. Did Peter tell you what happened?”
“Yes.” Raven knew it would be polite to inquire how she was getting along, but the answer was too obvious to merit wasting his breath. Eden was doing beautifully. He stood by her side as she calmly gave Jonathan Abbot, the butler, the order to close Alex’s coffin and see that it was promptly delivered to the church in Exeter. Apparently she had been awaiting his arrival, and now saw no reason for further delay. Raven reminded himself that Alex had been dead for three days, but still Eden’s haste to have the funeral struck him as unseemly.
Eden slipped her hand into
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