Free A Lady's Wish by Katharine Ashe Page B

beneath the brilliant sunshine. He would bring a period to the insanity that had driven him for years to finish what they had begun that day.
    But war had altered him and he no longer made rash starts. Nine years ago she had gone from his embrace to a bridal bed with another man. Nik had barely known her. But in those few hours he had changed. Meeting her and falling in love with her had altered the course of his life so dramatically she had simply become part of the structure of his reality. He might never see her again after today. But he could no more forget her than he could forget the sun.
    “Will you return to sea soon, Captain?”
    “The first of April.”
    “What a pity. We ladies on land will regret it.” She stepped back from the horse. “There. How did I do?”
    He forced a smile. “Quite well. If you were a stable boy I would toss you a coin.”
    She grinned. “All this work has made me famished, and my sister and Aunt Elsbeth will have risen by now. Will you take a cup of tea with us?”
    “I will follow you shortly.” And see her.
    “Once we have taken to the road, will you still follow us?”
    Probably for the remainder of his life. “That depends upon where you are going.”
    “T ricky, it happens that I am horridly jealous of you.” Calanthia sipped her tea. “Captain Acton admires you.”
    Patricia’s head snapped up from studying Oliver’s letter.
    Calanthia nodded. “Truly. He asked me all about your wedding, and Oliver.”
    Her stomach somersaulted. “He did?”
    “Yes. It was wretchedly disconcerting, as I had gone to the stable to enjoy a pleasant flirtation with him and instead we spoke of you.” She leapt up and swept her arms about Patricia’s shoulders and pressed their cheeks together. “But I shan’t hate you for it. If I cannot have him, I would not want anybody else in the world to have him but you.”
    Her throat beneath Callie’s arm felt thick. “Must you be so vulgar, dear?”
    “I thought I said it quite nicely! And it is very generous of me, really. I could eat him with a spoon.”
    Patricia tried to frown. She could not. He had asked about her wedding?
    “I cannot imagine where you learn such language,” she muttered instead, tucking Oliver’s letter in her pocket to hide her quivering fingers.
    “From Maggie.”
    “Your maid? Good heavens, I shall be obliged to turn her off.”
    “You cannot. She wears a ring you gave her, she is wed to our footman, and she believes she owes her happiness to you, which in fact she does.”
    Patricia moved toward the parlor door. She had not finished breakfast, but she could not eat now with her insides in a chaos. Why would he wish to know about Oliver? So he could determine whether Oliver would be the pistols-at-dawn sort of husband with his wife’s lover?
    Her cheeks burned. But since he had touched her the night before, she could not cease thinking of it. Might she live her fantasy upon this journey with him ? She had not stipulated to herself that she must have a man of good character for her single night, only a man who could give her pleasure.
    “Tricky, I told him Oliver died.” Calanthia rushed the next words. “I know you do not wish strange gentlemen to know your particular business, but he is really quite lovely and anyway he sails again by month’s end, so he shan’t tell anyone.”
    “Month’s end?”
    The rumble of carriage wheels sounded in the yard.
    “Oh. Perhaps that is ours.” Calanthia sounded disappointed.
    Panic welled in Patricia, but this time in the direct center of her chest.
    They went into the foyer as Captain Acton entered the inn. He met her regard, and as though nine years had not passed and they still stood palm-to-palm beside a field of sheep, his eyes seemed to seek something within her. She had the most unwise urge to blurt out that he might still find it there.
    “Your carriage is readied,” he only said. “Your horses will remain here as long as you wish. I have given