Free A Lady's Guide to Skirting Scandal by Kelly Bowen

worn fabric rolled up to his elbows. His legs extended in front of him, his bare feet crossed. As if he had just risen from his own bed.
    Her heart skipped. “Nate?” she whispered, wondering if perhaps she was still asleep and dreaming this entire thing. If it was a dream, she had no interest in waking.
    His head snapped up, and he smiled at her. “You’re awake.”
    “Am I?”
    He laughed quietly. “Most certainly.”
    You shouldn’t be in here , she thought, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. Because she didn’t want him to leave.
    “Had you planned on letting me sleep at the table all night?” she asked, rubbing at her cheek. She could feel an indented ridge where the edge of the table had pressed. She’d pulled the pins from her hair earlier to ease her aching scalp, and now her hair fell in a rumpled tangle around her shoulders. Her gown was wrinkled and bloodstained, her eyes felt bleary and her lips dry. She must look like a mess.
    “You looked so beautiful. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
    Viola blinked at him, feeling a heat flood into her cheeks. A riot of butterflies was churning through her middle.
    “What time is it?”
    “Late,” he said. “Or maybe early would be a better word.”
    “What are you doing here?” She glanced at the door, still closed tight.
    “I thought you might be hungry. And thirsty. I heard you are extremely unpopular with your wardens at present. They snore, by the way. I could hear them from the passageway.”
    Viola smiled. “Thank you.” She paused. “But my door was locked.”
    “The key was in the lock outside.” He held up a key.
    “And now—”
    “It’s locked from the inside.” He held her eyes.
    Suddenly, Viola could barely breathe.
    “Would you like me to go?” he asked, closing the book he still held on his lap.
    Viola’s pulse was pounding. “No.”
    He smiled at her, his eyes darkening in a manner that stole whatever breath she’d managed to retain. “Good.”
    Viola licked her lips, her mouth dry.
    Nate reached for the bottle of wine, twisted the cork from its mouth, and offered it to her. She took it, examining the label. It was an expensive wine.
    “Where did you get this?”
    “I brought it with me. It’s from a captain I once pieced back together at Quatre Bras. I ran into him quite by chance in Liverpool before we left, and he insisted on making a gift of it. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to marshal proper glasses.”
    Viola came just out of her chair to accept the bottle from his hands, retreating back to her seat. She put it to her mouth, the cool glass against her lips feeling like the most decadent thing she had ever drunk from. The wine slid down her throat, heating her body. Or at least, that was what she was telling herself.
    “I see you got my book.” He gestured at the text.
    “I did. Thank you.”
    “You’re very welcome.”
    “And thank you for your note. It was…” Viola faltered, unable to put into words what it had meant.
    “The truth,” he whispered.
    A silence fell, and they stared at each other across the small space. There was a tension in the air, something that swirled and hummed and sent little currents of electricity darting through her body. A shivery anticipation that had her agitated and fevered all at once.
    “You believed in me.”
    “Yes.” His answer was simple.
    Another silence descended.
    “What do you want, Viola?” Nate asked into the quiet.
    What did she want? The answer to his question was nothing like the answer she would have given him in Liverpool when she had first boarded this ship. But it was an easy answer all the same.
    “You,” she said.
    He watched her for a moment. “Come here.”
    Viola rose and in two steps crossed the distance to where he was sitting. He reached for the wine bottle and took it from her, setting it aside. Then he caught her hand, running his fingers lightly over her knuckles. “Once this is done, it can’t be undone,” he said, replacing his