the ship before her hard-won equilibrium went sliding away.
Standing on the deck of the Maria Lisa , talking to Sir George and looking rakishly handsome in dark blue flannel trousers and buff-colored waistcoat, with the cuffs of his white shirt rolled back and his navy reefer jacket hooked by his fingertips over one shoulder, was Will. He must be accompanying them to Pixy Cove.
With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Beatrix glanced behind her, but the hands were pulling up the gangplank, and unless she wanted to jump over the side, there was no escape. For the coming four weeks, she would be trapped in the same house with him, and with that realization, the serenity Beatrix had worked so hard to regain during the past week vanished as if it had never been.
Chapter Six
S ir George and Lady Debenham were passionate about only one thing, and that was sailing. As far back as Will could remember, their favorite entertainment during the hot days of August was to give water parties aboard their yacht, offering a select group of their acquaintances the opportunity for a tour along the Torbay coast.
As the boat skimmed along Devonshire’s stunning coastline, most guests at these affairs were content to stand at the rail and admire the view, but not Will. It had been a long time since he’d been sailing, and when Sir George offered him the helm, he was happy to take it.
Occupied with guiding the three-masted yacht across Torbay Harbor and north around the point whimsically called Hope’s Nose, Will didn’t know Trix was aboard. Being occupied with estate business during the past week, he hadn’t talked to Paul. If he’d thought about the Danbury transportation arrangements, he’d have guessed they would have come by rail, as they had usually done in past years. But after he’d handed control of the Maria Lisa back to Sir George, he discovered that guess would have been wrong. As he started along the starboard side of the ship toward the observation saloon where refreshments were being served, he spied Beatrix standing by the rail.
She was near the door to the saloon, leaning on the rail and staring out at the sea. The stiff breeze whipped the skirt of her white yachting suit in his direction and stirred the fat blue ribbon bow on the side of her white straw boater. One of her hands gripped the rail to keep her balance on deck. Her other hand was at her neck, and he came to an abrupt halt, transfixed by the aimless, innocuous movement of her fingertips back and forth beneath her jaw. How many times had he kissed her there? he wondered, remembering nights in the moonlight, with the scent of gardenias in the air, and her skin soft and warm against his mouth.
As he stared at her with these images of the past going through his mind, Will felt the slow burn of arousal spreading through his body. Watching her, thinking of those days, he suddenly felt like a randy, desperate youth all over again, and when she lowered her hand, exposing that tempting little bit of bare skin above her collar, his mind began conjuring up images far more explicit than anything he’d actually seen during their many midnight rendezvous so long ago.
Desperate to regain his composure, he lifted his gaze a notch to her profile. Her expression was pensive, almost dreamy, with an upward curve at the corner of her mouth that made him wonder what she was thinking about right now.
Probably her wedding to Trathen, he thought, hoping that splash of cold reality would dampen the desire for her that was now coursing through his body, but instead it only piled resentment he had no right to feel onto the fire of lust blazing inside him.
With a smothered sound, he moved, thinking to go back the way he’d come, but she caught the movement out the corner of her eye, and turned her head with a smile of greeting as if she’d been expecting someone. Not him, he knew, and stopped, speared through the chest by that smile, awash in hot desire and
Standing on the deck of the Maria Lisa , talking to Sir George and looking rakishly handsome in dark blue flannel trousers and buff-colored waistcoat, with the cuffs of his white shirt rolled back and his navy reefer jacket hooked by his fingertips over one shoulder, was Will. He must be accompanying them to Pixy Cove.
With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Beatrix glanced behind her, but the hands were pulling up the gangplank, and unless she wanted to jump over the side, there was no escape. For the coming four weeks, she would be trapped in the same house with him, and with that realization, the serenity Beatrix had worked so hard to regain during the past week vanished as if it had never been.
Chapter Six
S ir George and Lady Debenham were passionate about only one thing, and that was sailing. As far back as Will could remember, their favorite entertainment during the hot days of August was to give water parties aboard their yacht, offering a select group of their acquaintances the opportunity for a tour along the Torbay coast.
As the boat skimmed along Devonshire’s stunning coastline, most guests at these affairs were content to stand at the rail and admire the view, but not Will. It had been a long time since he’d been sailing, and when Sir George offered him the helm, he was happy to take it.
Occupied with guiding the three-masted yacht across Torbay Harbor and north around the point whimsically called Hope’s Nose, Will didn’t know Trix was aboard. Being occupied with estate business during the past week, he hadn’t talked to Paul. If he’d thought about the Danbury transportation arrangements, he’d have guessed they would have come by rail, as they had usually done in past years. But after he’d handed control of the Maria Lisa back to Sir George, he discovered that guess would have been wrong. As he started along the starboard side of the ship toward the observation saloon where refreshments were being served, he spied Beatrix standing by the rail.
She was near the door to the saloon, leaning on the rail and staring out at the sea. The stiff breeze whipped the skirt of her white yachting suit in his direction and stirred the fat blue ribbon bow on the side of her white straw boater. One of her hands gripped the rail to keep her balance on deck. Her other hand was at her neck, and he came to an abrupt halt, transfixed by the aimless, innocuous movement of her fingertips back and forth beneath her jaw. How many times had he kissed her there? he wondered, remembering nights in the moonlight, with the scent of gardenias in the air, and her skin soft and warm against his mouth.
As he stared at her with these images of the past going through his mind, Will felt the slow burn of arousal spreading through his body. Watching her, thinking of those days, he suddenly felt like a randy, desperate youth all over again, and when she lowered her hand, exposing that tempting little bit of bare skin above her collar, his mind began conjuring up images far more explicit than anything he’d actually seen during their many midnight rendezvous so long ago.
Desperate to regain his composure, he lifted his gaze a notch to her profile. Her expression was pensive, almost dreamy, with an upward curve at the corner of her mouth that made him wonder what she was thinking about right now.
Probably her wedding to Trathen, he thought, hoping that splash of cold reality would dampen the desire for her that was now coursing through his body, but instead it only piled resentment he had no right to feel onto the fire of lust blazing inside him.
With a smothered sound, he moved, thinking to go back the way he’d come, but she caught the movement out the corner of her eye, and turned her head with a smile of greeting as if she’d been expecting someone. Not him, he knew, and stopped, speared through the chest by that smile, awash in hot desire and
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