She let the matter rest. She understood about skeletons in closets, so she changed the subject. “If you weren’t stranded in England, would you reside in Jamaica?”
“I would.” He grinned a devastating grin. “Would you come with me?”
“Oh, yes,” she teasingly replied, for she would never board a ship again. “I would flee my marriage and my husband, just so I could sinfully traipse off to the Caribbean with you.”
“It’s a lovely fantasy, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
They were quiet for a bit and staring outside. Out on the horizon, a hint of dawn appeared. And he was still holding her hand.
“What are your plans once the sun is up?” he eventually inquired.
“I’ll be busy with chores. We have more guests showing up this afternoon.”
“My brother is one of them.”
“I can’t wait to meet him, so I can ask him about the thrashing you administered after he got you kicked out of the navy. Was he ever sorry?”
He snorted at that. “Sorry enough, I suppose.”
“Has his behavior improved? Is he choosing better friends?”
“No and no. He’s simply learned to be more furtive.”
“If you had to save him again, would you?”
“Of course. He’s my brother. If he’s not worth saving, who would be?”
“You just might be a very good man.”
“Not really. I’m merely pretending to be gallant, so you’ll assume I’m amazing.”
“You’re much too vain, and I wouldn’t want to stroke your ego.”
“It is very inflated. I admit it.”
“Will I like your brother more than you?”
“Everyone does.”
She chuckled and finally tried to pull away. She’d been very reckless, and there was no excuse for her conduct except to note that no one had ever held her hand before. Not since she’d been on the island with Libby and Joanna. If there was an adult who had after that, she couldn’t recall.
The sense of well-being he generated was too powerful to ignore, and she couldn’t bear to have the encounter conclude. But she was betrothed, and he was a guest who’d been invited to her wedding. It was scandalous to be loafing in the dark with him.
Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on one’s point of view—he wouldn’t release her.
“Are you leaving?” he asked.
“I have to.”
“Why?”
“I’ve sequestered myself with you again, and I can’t figure out why. I keep telling myself to stay away from you, but I can’t manage it.”
“You shouldn’t stay away from me. I’m the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to you.”
She smirked. “That is definitely not true.”
“What has ever happened to you that was more interesting than meeting me?”
A thousand words flooded to the tip of her tongue, but they were words she would never voice aloud: I’m one of the three Mystery Girls of the Caribbean. I was on that ship with Libby Carstairs when it sank all those years ago. I survived with her and was rescued by navy sailors too, but my family deems it a shocking story, so I never talk about it.
What event could ever occur in a female’s life that would be more astonishing than that?
“I stand corrected,” she said. “You are, by far and away, the most interesting thing that has ever happened to me.”
“That’s more like it.”
“You are also an incredible bully.”
“Yes, and you are such a milksop. It’s easy to push you around. After sufficient acquaintance, what do you imagine I’ll be able to coerce you into doing?”
The answer to that question was too frightening to consider, for she was certain he could spur her to all sorts of activity she shouldn’t contemplate. Each time she stumbled on him, she wound up tarrying longer than was wise. Where would it lead? Where would it end?
Before she realized what he intended, he dipped down and kissed her. The move was sudden and unexpected, and for the briefest instant, she dawdled like a statue and let him proceed.
She’d been kissed in the past, at the harvest fair and other places, when she was much younger. Once her betrothal to Gregory had been announced, she’d never walked with any boys again, so it had been ages since anyone had dared.
She was stunned and aghast and happier than she could ever remember being, but she was also blatantly aware that she was participating in a very wicked, very immoral deed. She was engaged! When her wedding was so close, why would she allow such mischief? More importantly, why would she enjoy it so much?
Her heart was pounding so hard she feared it might burst out of her chest. She lingered for a second, then a second more, then she physically yanked herself away, but it took such ferocious effort that she staggered and had to latch onto a nearby chair to keep herself upright.
“What are you thinking!” she wailed with dismay.
“I was thinking that you look like a woman who desperately needed to be kissed.”
“I’m about to be married!”
“Poor you,” he murmured.
His comment brought on a surge of bizarre emotion. She wanted to throw herself back into his arms, to kiss him and kiss him and never stop. She wanted to risk everything—her security, her respected position as a wife—simply to have him hold her for a few more minutes.
What was wrong with her? Why did he have such a potent effect?
He was very handsome, very different from other men, and she was so lonely. Was that the problem? Had she been a spinster for too many years?
“Goodnight, Mr. Ralston,” she said.
“Call me Caleb.”
“I doubt I ever will.”
She jerked away and ran from the room, recognizing—if she didn’t hurry—she’d never escape.
She yearned to grab the lapels of his coat, to beg him to take her away from quiet, stifling Grey’s Corner. She wanted him to help her, to save her, to rescue her from the conclusion that was winging toward her on her wedding day.
But she’d been rescued once by navy sailors, and she’d learned from the experience that a person could completely change her circumstances, but that nothing
