This Perfect Kiss by Melody Thomas

you seem . . . distant. I thought we had come to an understanding.”
    â€œThen why the subterfuge . . . Mrs. Claremont?”
    Her hand came to rest on the rail, as if that would keep her standing. She was not interested in either defending herself or in lying, so she elected to say nothing of the turmoil roiling within. Yet another part of her was relieved that he knew.
    â€œNo denials?” His sober voice inserted itself in her thoughts, and she saw that he was not looking at her but north. “Are you not curious who was on that cruiser?”
    â€œI know who captains the Glory Rose . . .” She suddenly lost the ability to think.
    â€œYour husband’s family is concerned about you. Why did you not tell me you were married, Christel?”
    Anger flashed through her. She was weary of people interfering with her life, following her about as if she’d been a dog on a leash, trying to shelter or coddle her. “My reasons are none of your concern.”
    â€œI beg to differ. You sailed across the Atlantic under the pretense of accepting a position in my employment—”
    â€œ ’Twas not pretense—”
    â€œNot just any position but that of governess to my child. Your subterfuge is relevant to me and speaks to your integrity.”
    â€œMy integrity?” To Christel, her honor and integrity were sacrosanct. “You know nothing about my life. Or me. Nothing.”
    â€œYou are correct about that, Christel. And what I used to know had borne out to be a lie.”
    She stepped past him, but his hand snapped her around. Her hood fell down upon her shoulders. “Tell me who you are,” he rasped. “I do not even know why you left Scotland, Christel.”
    The wind whipped her cloak around his legs. By nature, she refused yielding to weakness on any terms. It smacked of defeat and cowardice and all manner of vile emotions she’d buried for years.
    She had no idea how the truth would serve her. Her reasons for leaving Scotland were as irrelevant to her current status as was the very question itself and were none of his concern. Her life was her own, bought and paid for with her soul. She had lost everyone she had ever loved, so she had ceased loving anyone. No softness was left inside her, no room for doubt. Yet she was terrified of cracking beneath the weight of his iron gaze, which bored into hers with a gentleness she did not expect.
    â€œPlease loose me now.”
    His iron-muscled grip on her wrist loosened but he did not release his hold, and she made no move to snatch back her arm. “Whether you like it or nay, you are my responsibility,” he quietly said.
    â€œI am no one’s responsibility. I can take care of myself.”
    â€œCan you?” There was the hint of steel in his voice. He released her arm. “Like you took care of those who killed your husband?”
    She snapped her gaze to his. “I am no murderer,” she said softly, but fiercely.
    But this time, the weight of his gaze was too much for her to hold. She looked past him and found the horizon her focus. “They died in a fair duel,” she managed blandly. “Unlike the fight they gave Daniel.”
    â€œFair? As in you allowed them the chance to kill you—?”
    â€œDueling is not illegal. They cannot hang you.”
    â€œWhat should I say to that, Christel?”
    â€œSay that you will never question my integrity or honor again. Say anything except what is clearly in your thoughts.”
    She stepped backward to negotiate her path around him. But he moved nearer to her, blocking her withdrawal, touching her slightly, as if she was made from the most fragile glass. She reached for the railing and found his hand on her waist balancing her instead.
    Their gazes tangled, locked and turned hot. Her lungs felt restrained by her bodice. She forgot where they were, forgot that they were in plain sight of his crew. Neither of them