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“I don’t care if you’re gently bred, roughly bred, or a loaf of brown bread with butter. You’re educated, you understand propriety, and you’re . . . breathing.”
“A binary star is created when two stars are drawn together. Once they come near enough, neither one can resist the other’s pull. They’re stuck together forever, destined to spend eternity revolving about each other, like . . . like dancers in a waltz, I suppose.” She scribbled a note in her notebook. “The fascinating thing is, a binary star’s center of gravity isn’t in one star or the other. It’s in the empty space between them.”
“I’m not worried. You said the thought of seducing me would never even cross your mind.” “Yes, but sometimes,” he murmured, “a man acts without thinking at all.” He leaned in as if drawn to her, trying to convince himself that a kiss would be for her own good. Just a little one, of course.
She would not participate in transforming them into well-mannered, empty-headed, docile young ladies who wouldn’t cause him any trouble. She’d help them become women who couldn’t be ignored.
“Calculated the length of the journey, how many days it will take. How many rations we’ll need aboard. That’s arithmetic. I’ve even taught them a bit of French.” Chase read aloud from the board. “‘Donnez-nous le butin, ou nous vous ferons jeter par-dessus bord.’ What does that mean?” She hedged. “Hand over the booty, or you’ll walk the plank.”
“I’m not certain I can loosen it without a bit more slack. Is there any way you can press just a bit closer? A few moments, no more. All I need is a half inch.” He made a strangled noise. “If you must, but do it quickly. Otherwise we’re going to move a good seven inches in the wrong direction.” “What?” “Never mind.”
“But you’re also a man who holds a little girl’s hand and eulogizes her doll every morning. A duke’s heir who builds cozy window seats and bookshelves by hand for his orphaned wards.” “How did you know that?” “I guessed. Downstairs, you were hanging your own paneling. Thank you for my verandah, by the way. You’re good with your hands.” “You don’t know the half of it,” he growled. He gathered another handful of her bottom and squeezed.
“No more piracy.” He waved expansively at the piratical decor. “In fact, tomorrow I am going to take all—”
“You are the worst example of false advertising. I was led to believe I was hiring a prim scold. Then I learn you’re remarkable and bold and interesting.”
“We should go after the girls.” “Yes, we should.” Neither of them moved. Alex bit her lip. “We’re going to kiss instead, aren’t we.” He caught her in his arms. “You’re goddamned right, we are.”
“This plan of yours doesn’t sound very fair to Winifred.” “Yes, I realized that.” He flung aside his unbuttoned waistcoat and pulled his damp shirt over his head, tossing it on the heap. “I was on the verge of sending her home when the girls doused me with”—he swept his hands down his muscled, glistening torso—“whatever this is.” “Leftover bathwater.” “Whose bathwater?” She bit her bottom lip at the corner. “Mine.” He laughed bitterly. “Of course. Of course it would be yours. I knew I smelled orange-flower water.”
“Dropsy, really? I thought that was an old person’s disease.” “Well, you know what they say. Only the wood die young.”
But Chase was unrepentant. A man rose to his feet for a lady, his queen, or a divine being, and she was at least one of those—if not all three.
“Alex.” He opened his reddened eyes, struggling to focus on her face. “Sorry, love. Can’t lick your cunny tonight. I’m sick.”
And do not ever waste your breath again with more of that ‘lost cause’ nonsense. Consider yourself found.”
“I understood you first.”
“I knew your true nature the first time I held your hand and watched you eulogize a consumptive doll. That’s ten whole weeks.” “Ten weeks is nothing. It’s been ten months for me.” Alex was stunned. “What?” “We collided in Hatchard’s bookshop in November of last year,” he said. “But perhaps you don’t recall.”
“Miss Alexandra Mountbatten, who possessed the most captivating, terrifying eyes I’d ever beheld. Or more to the point, that had ever beheld me. Eyes that were not only beautiful—but bold, clever, fearless. Unafraid to search the darkness, trusting that something, somewhere will glimmer back.” His voice deepened, weighted down with emotion. “I couldn’t forget you, Alex. And I won’t allow anyone else to forget you, either. Not the Royal Observatory, not the world. Not the universe, for that matter.”
Now she’d completely lost her edge in their argument. It wasn’t fair. How could she compete with his years upon years of transforming women into quivering shimmers of condensation? By being herself, she supposed. Straightforward, honest, practical. “I love you,” she said. “Take that.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I love you. There. Have you some astronomical way to ruin that?”
“I’m attached to you, you idiot. You’re my best friend, and my brother by blood. No one who loves you expects you to be perfect. If by some miracle you managed it, we wouldn’t recognize you.” Chase started to protest, but then he realized he didn’t really want to. “All you need to promise her is yourself. That’s enough.” Barrow put his hand on Chase’s shoulder. “You’re enough.”
“Just let me speak to Alexandra.” Chase stood and straightened his coat. “She’s not here.” “You bastard. Why didn’t you say so? You could have spared us all of this nonsense.” Ashbury struggled to a standing position. “I needed the exercise.”
“No,” she said. “You are the last person I want to see.” “Well, you are the last person I want to see, too.” She gestured in exasperation. “Then why are you—” “You are the last person I want to see before I fall asleep at night. Every night. The last woman I want to kiss for the remainder of my life. And your lovely face is the very last thing I want to see before I die. Because I love you, Alexandra.”
