Through the long days she had nothing to do but brood on her strange, terrifying twist of fate. Over and over she
had wrestled to understand what the devil was happening.
She could not believe that Philippe truly intended to wed her. Why would he? He could have any woman he desired. Women who were beautiful, and wealthy, and sleekly sophisticated. Women who came from the same world as he did, with the ability to stand at his side with pride.
What could he possibly want with a female such as her?
She could bring him no dowry, no social connections, no skills beyond playing the role of highwayman. A skill that did not seem entirely suitable for his wife.
And since he had already seduced her into his bed, it could not be an overwhelming passion that would prompt such a desperate offer.
Her hours of contemplation brought no answers. In truth, they did nothing more than leave her with a pounding head by the end of the day.
Crawling beneath the covers, Raine once again settled in for another lonely night. She had long ago stopped fretting over the fact that Philippe did not join her in the cramped bunk when darkness fell. What did it matter if he no longer sought her out? If his desire had already waned then perhaps he would come to see sense. It was, after all, the only thing that they held in common.
She shivered as she drifted off to sleep. A sleep that lasted only a few moments as a hand gripped her shoulder and abruptly shook her awake.
“Raine.” Philippe’s voice whispered directly next to her ear. “You must wake.”
“What?” Wrenching her eyes open, she blinked in confusion. “What is it?”
“We have arrived.”
The fog was seared from her mind at his soft words and with a small gasp she scooted upright.
“So soon? I…I thought the trip would be longer.”
There was the scrape of a flint and then candlelight bloomed, revealing Philippe’s aristocratic features and the tousled raven curls. Shifting, he turned to stare down at her with that aloof expression that reminded her of the first night they met.
“My ship is built for speed,” he informed her. “A fortunate circumstance, considering the number of times I have been pursued over the years.”
“Somehow I am not at all surprised.”
He shrugged aside her tart words, holding out a slender hand with obvious impatience. “Come, Raine. It is late and I am weary.”
Raine felt her stomach clench as she struggled to breathe. “Please, Philippe, I do not want this. Return me to England, I beg of you.”
Expecting a sharp retort, or even to be hauled from the bed and shoved into her clothes, Raine was startled when his cold features softened and he perched his large body on the edge of the mattress.
“Why do you cower in your bed, querida?” he demanded. His voice was rough, but at least the ice had melted. “You have braved the gallows to rescue your father, you entered my bed with the boldness of a trained courtesan and bartered your freedom from a madman. Why does the thought of becoming my wife make you tremble?”
“Because…” Because I love you and living with you day after day with no hope of having you ever return my love would slowly destroy me. “Because I will only make a fool of myself, and you, as well. I am not trained to live among nobility.”
His lips twitched. “Trained? Like a thoroughbred?”
Her eyes narrowed as she experienced a spurt of anger. “Precisely as a thoroughbred. Young ladies do not possess some natural instinct to understand how to run a vast household or to move in society. They have governesses who devote years to teaching them the skills they need.”
He grasped her chin, his brows drawing together. “Raine, you are beautiful, finely educated and intelligent enough to learn whatever skills you believe are necessary for my wife. If you have need of assistance we can easily send for one of my far-flung relatives to come and live with us until you feel confident in your abilities.”
“Even if I could learn, I still will not be accepted by society,” she said with a small sniff.
“You worry over nothing, meu amor, you will be accepted.”
“Why? Because you say so?”
“Yes.”
She rolled her eyes. “Not even you can force a horde of nobles to look upon a sailor’s daughter with anything but contempt.”