The Wife Test by Betina Krahn Page B

stroking the back of his hand … trying to decide if it felt softer in any way.
    Alarmed, he sat upright. He was
not
softer. Not in any damned way. He was a seasoned warrior … a soldier in the armies of both his God and his king … impervious to the wiles and enticements of the world. Immediately the memory of Chloe of Guibray’s face—the details of her hair, her skin, and eyes—rose in his mind’s eye to challenge that claim.
    An embattled soldier, honesty demanded he admit.
    Banishing those images of her took such concentration that he failed to realize, at first, that another object had entered his vision. Pale and rectangular. Bobbing between sea and horizon. Moving steadily closer.
    When he succeeded in wrestling Chloe of Guibray back behind the door of the forbidden in his mind, he finally saw it.
    A sail.

Chapter Seven
    Hugh jumped up and looked around for Graham. Spotting him across the fire, he called out and pointed toward the sail.
    “The ship!”
    Suddenly the entire camp was on its feet, looking seaward and cheering.
    The ship
Fairwind
followed the tide in to a boisterous welcome. By the time the first longboats reached the beach, Hugh had already organized his men into work details, setting them to transferring cargo from the wagons into the longboats and ultimately into the ship’s hold. They worked eagerly, exchanging banter of home, and some even broke into song.
    After consulting with the ship’s mate on the space available, Hugh positioned himself on the beach to sort the horses they would take and oversee the hazardous process of swimming them out to the ship. He assigned to Graham the task of driving the wagons and cart back up the cliff road, delivering them to the local stableman, and collecting the payment they had negotiated. Against his better judgment, he also charged Graham with collecting the maids and their belongings and hauling them down to the beach.
    He was thigh-deep in surf, helping to drag one of the longboats ashore when Graham returned with the cart full of trunks. Behind him in a tightly knit group, came the maids on foot. Hugh waded out of the water toward them and stopped by the fire, momentarily speechless.
    They’d been a serious distraction before, but now were nothing short of a temptation. Their gowns were simple and they wore small, plain caps over their unbound hair, but such modest dress only emphasized the extravagance of their natural beauty. One was tall, cool, and delicate, with flaxen hair and skin like alabaster … another was short and freckled, with a torrent of vibrant red tresses and pouty-child lips. The third was a sultry, dark-eyed vision with a swirl of black hair and curves that tried the seams of her gown. And the fourth was as elegant and regal as a Greek statue, with eyes like emeralds and skin like polished marble. It was as if they had been purposefully chosen to represent the full range of feminine attractions.
    He glanced around and found that every man left on the beach had stopped dead and was staring slack-jawed at them.
    Chagrined by his own silence, he motioned Graham to begin loading their trunks into the longboat, and then looked out at the ship they would have to share. By the time they reached London, it was going to seem awfully damned small. He wondered if it would be possible to stow the maids somewhere below deck and out of sight … say … with the horses. He could just imagine what
she
would say to that.
    “Chloe of Guibray,” he demanded, turning back to them with a scowl. It was a testament to their powers of distraction that he only now realized she was missing. “Where is she?”
    “She told us to come ahead,” the one called Alaina answered as she and the others stared in wonder at the longboats and the ship anchored offshore. “That is our ship? We’re leaving soon?”
    “With the tide,” he said irritably. “You just left her there?”
    “She said she would be a while yet,” the little redhead informed