vulnerability.
She needed Lucas Ross.
Chapter 4
The course of true love never did run smooth.
–William Shakespeare,
He couldn't wait to get away from her. The physical attraction he felt for her hadn't diminished over the length of the voyage. During the night when the storm had seemed most threatening, he awakened on top of Taylor, nuzzling the side of her neck. He didn't have any idea how he'd gotten there. He only knew he wanted her with an intensity he'd never experienced before. In his sleep, his defenses had been weakened, and surely that was why he instinctively reached for her to satisfy his hunger. Wanting her wasn't just painful. It also scared the hell out of him. Thank God, he'd awakened when he did, before he'd stripped her of her gown and scared the hell out of her. Luckily, Taylor never had an inkling of her own danger. She was so exhausted, she slept through his unplanned attack. It was only when he became aware of what he was doing and summoned enough discipline to roll away from her that she woke up. Damned if she didn't follow him across the bed. She brazenly cuddled up against him and went back to sleep. The woman was entirely too trusting for her own good. Still, he was her husband, even if it was in name only and for a short duration, and she really should feel safe with him. It was his duty to protect her, not ravish her.
Lucas spent the remainder of the journey crossing the ocean battling his lust. By the time they disembarked in Boston, he was feeling like an ogre and a lecher. Only his discipline kept him from acting like one. Taylor wanted him to continue to sleep in their stateroom every night, even after the storm had worn itself out. She hadn't come right out and asked, of course. No, she danced around the issue for almost an hour, making what he decided was the most illogical argument he'd ever heard, and when she was finished explaining her position on the matter, her conclusion was that they should continue their companionable sleeping arrangement for his sake. She had the gall to add that she was actually doing him an enormous favor.
He translated her rambling dissertation to mean she was afraid to be alone but was too stubborn to admit it. The storm had obviously spooked her. She felt safe with him, and although that was a compliment of sorts, it was also damned ironic, he decided, because if she had any idea what he was constantly thinking about, she would be terrified of him.
The last night on board the Emerald was the most difficult. He waited until he was certain she had already gone to sleep, then came into the stateroom as quietly as possible. He'd been sleeping on his bedroll on the floor. It wasn't uncomfortable. Over the years of living outdoors, he'd learned to sleep anywhere. No, the hard floor wasn't the problem. Taylor was. He found her sitting in a chair, wearing a white nightgown and wrapper and a pair of white slippers with ridiculous little satin bows on them. She was brushing her hair. And humming. It was hypnotic. Lucas stood there staring at her for a long minute. She smiled in greeting. He frowned in response. Then he turned around to leave. He wanted to run. He walked instead.
'Where are you going?' she called out. She hurriedly put her brush down on the trunk next to her chair and stood up.
He didn't turn around when he answered her. 'Up on deck.'
'Please don't leave. I need to talk to you.'
He reached for the doorknob. 'Go to sleep, Taylor. We'll talk tomorrow.'
'But I wish to talk to you now.'
He gritted his teeth in frustration. There didn't seem to be any way out of the torture. He was going to have to look at her again, see her in that paper-thin robe and gown and pretend he wasn't at all affected.
He was already beginning to imagine what was underneath. 'Hell.'
'I beg your pardon?'
Lucas turned around. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the door. Then he let out a loud sigh. It was forceful enough to rock the ship.
'What do you want to talk about?'
'Us,' she blurted out.
He raised an eyebrow. She forced a smile. She was desperately trying not to be intimidated by his gruff manner. She didn't want to argue with him. In truth, she hated confrontations of any kind. She was and always had been a peacemaker. She used to tell Madam she wished everyone would get along. Her grandmother informed her the wish was unattainable.
Now that Taylor was an adult, she set more attainable goals, and right now all she wanted was for Lucas to get along with her.
'Have I done or said something to upset you?' she asked.
'No.'
She tried to act composed. She certainly didn't want him to think the topic distressed her. 'You're certain?'
'I'm certain.'
She didn't believe him. 'You've spent most of the voyage avoiding me. We haven't had a single conversation that lasted more than five minutes, and I cannot help but wonder if I said something…'
He cut her off in midsentence. 'It's late, Taylor. Go to sleep. Tomorrow we'll…'
She interrupted him. 'We leave the ship tomorrow. We have to discuss our plans before then. I don't wish to talk about such a private matter in front of strangers.'
She was wringing her hands together in obvious agitation. Her face was getting flushed, too. Lucas felt guilty as hell because he knew he was the cause of her distress. She was right, of course. He had been avoiding her. He had done everything possible to distance himself from her. He wasn't about to explain why. The truth would only make her more uncomfortable around him.
He was being noble, a first in his estimation, and she was never going to know about it. Lucas pulled away from the door, crossed the stateroom, and sat down in the chair Taylor had only just vacated. He stretched his long legs out, leaned back, and stared at her.
Taylor went over to the side of the bed, sat down, and folded her hands in her lap. She never took her gaze off him. She was determined to get some answers, even if it took her all night. She believed she was being quite noble, a first in her opinion, for she was determined to confront Lucas Ross, even if a full-blown argument resulted. She was getting sick to her stomach just thinking about the possibility.
His beautiful, untouchable wife looked miserable. His guilt increased tenfold. He decided to give her only a half-truth. 'I have been avoiding you as much as possible,' he admitted. And it has been one hell of a challenge, he silently added. They were on a ship, for God's sake, and the Emerald seemed to have gotten smaller and smaller since they left England. 'It's been difficult,' he added with a nod.
'It has?'
'Yes.'
'Why?'
'Look, Taylor. I gave your grandmother a promise to look out for you. I've been trying to make certain you were all right and that no one bothered you, yet at the same time trying to maintain my distance. Hell, yes, it's been difficult.'
She looked bewildered. She threaded her hands through her hair. He wanted to tell her to quit doing that. It was provocative, arousing. She was an enchantress, all right, and didn't even know it. Lucas felt he was approaching sainthood.
'You still haven't explained why you felt the need to avoid me,' she reminded him.
She was like a bear after honey. She wasn't going to give up. He decided he only had one alternative left. He
