The Perfect Wife by Victoria Alexander Page B

features, her classically sculpted form. She was a vision in the misty magic of the black and silver shades of the night. He could only remember one other time in his life when his desire for a woman had been this overpowering. Irrational, instinctual and, ultimately, undeniable. He would take her as his wife, terms, conditions and all.
    “I have a condition of my own,” he said softly. “If we decide we do not suit, it must be a joint decision. We must agree to separate.”
    “Is that all?”
    The moonlight reflected the surprise on her face. Nicholas smiled to himself. Obviously, she did not think he’d accept her outrageous proposition. He nodded.
    “Then as acting captain of this vessel, Simon can marry us. Is tomorrow acceptable?”
    “More than acceptable.” He pulled her into his arms.
    “Nicholas,” she gasped, “I hardly think this is an auspicious start to a marriage of convenience.”
    “We are not yet wed,” he murmured, “and at the moment I find this wonderfully convenient.” He pressed his lips to hers.
    The pressure of his touch stole her breath and sapped her will. She struggled to fight a sea of powerful sensations, flooding her veins, throbbing through her blood. How would she resist him? If he could do this to her with a mere kiss ... she shuddered with anticipation and ignored the distant warning in the back of her mind; it was not to be.
    He held her close, plundering her lips with his own. Instinctively, he sensed her surrender, knew the moment of her defeat. Satisfied, he released her. Lifting her chin with a gentle touch, he gazed into eyes aglow with the power of his passion.
    “Until tomorrow.”
    It took but a moment. Nicholas noted Sabrina gathering her wits about her. Noted her transformation into the cool, collected Lady Stanford. She was good, his bride-to-be, very good.
    “Tomorrow.” She nodded politely, turned and walked into the darkness. He rested his back against the rail and watched her disappear into the night. Her scent lingered in the air, vaguely spicy, hinting of a long-forgotten memory. A smile grew on his lips and he considered the unexpected benefits of taking a wife.
    Nicholas, Earl of Wyldewood, was a man of honor, and he would abide by their bargain, abide by their terms.
    All, of course, except one.
Chapter Seven
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    “Have you lost your mind? This is the most harebrained scheme I’ve ever had the misfortune to hear! What’s got into you, lass?” Simon glared at her.
    “I think it’s an excellent idea,” Sabrina said defensively.
    “Excellent idea!” he roared. “Just last night you stood in this very same cabin and told me, in no uncertain terms, mind you, how his mere presence was ruining everything. How you’d be just as happy to see him feeding fish at the bottom of the sea. Now you want to marry the man!”
    “I simply changed my mind.” She sniffed haughtily. “Besides, marrying Wyldewood solves all my problems.”
    “Oh?” He raised a sandy brow in a sarcastic gesture. “And how, pray tell, does your getting yourself leg-shackled to a man you scarcely know and can’t stand to boot solve anything?”
    “I presented him with a list of terms and he agreed to them. For one thing, he promised he would not withdraw his permission for Belinda to marry his son.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Her future is now assured.”
    “And?”
    “And, he’s agreed to be equal partners with me in any business venture.”
    “By business venture do you mean this French gold you’re going after?”
    “Exactly.” She nodded.
    He narrowed his eyes and studied her. “Did you tell him about the gold?”
    “Good Lord no! I wouldn’t hazard to guess what he’ll say about that. But sooner or later he is bound to find out, and this way I’ve secured his promise and assured my share.”
    “Seems to me, if you’re married to the man, there’s no need to pay him a dowry so’s your daughter can marry his son. So