Sapphire

He thought for a moment before replying. “I can say honestly, my dearest,” he told her, taking her hand in his, “that he is one of the most honorable, respectable men I have ever had the privilege to meet.”

“So you think she’ll be all right?” she asked softly.

He smiled, drawing her hand to his lips. “I think she’ll be just fine.”

16

Sapphire lay on the bunk with her head under the blanket until it got stuffy and perspiration began to gather above her upper lip. At first, as the minutes ticked by and she listened to Blake move

about the room putting things away and settling at the desk, all she could think of was what an awful, hopeless situation she had found herself in. But as her self-imposed prison grew warmer and warmer, the wool blanket itchier against her bare skin, her self-pity blossomed into anger.

How dare he? How dare Blake Thixton do this to her!

Sapphire didn’t care if he’d gone to Boston’s Harvard, she didn’t care what a successful businessman and entrepreneur he was, or that he was the Earl of Wessex and her father’s heir; she wouldn’t have cared if he was the king of England. He had no right! He had no right to kidnap her and take her from her family and she did not have to submit to such treatment. What was he? An American. Nothing more than a merchant masquerading as a gentleman. Who was he to think he could treat the daughter of an English nobleman like a common strumpet?

Sapphire flung the cover from her head and scrambled from the bunk, ignoring the pain in her ankle. As she hit the floor on her one good foot, dragging the sheet behind her to cover her nakedness, Blake looked up from his desk. “You have no right!” she shouted as she hobbled the short distance toward the desk.

Blake rose, obviously startled, but he still had that ridiculous smirk on his face.

“I don’t want to go with you, do you understand?” she yelled, grabbing a book off the corner of her desk and hurling it at him. “I don’t want to go to America!”

He ducked and took a step back. “You’ll get used to the idea. Boston is a wonderful city, very different from London but exciting in its own way. As my mistress, you’ll accompany me to the theater, to the symphony, to dinner parties with the richest, most successful men and women in the United States.”

“I don’t want to be your mistress. I will not be your mistress,” she shouted, grabbing another book and heaving it at him.

This time, either her aim was better or he wasn’t quick enough, and the missile struck his shoulder before hitting the polished wooden deck with a thump.

“You’ll get used to the idea. I can really be quite charming.” His eyes sparkled. “Some say I have a way with women.”

Hopping toward him, she grabbed a boot and flung it at him. “I certainly will not get used to the idea!”

“Ouch!” Blake cried when the heel of the boot struck him in the forehead. “Sapphire, stop it! One of us is going to get hurt.”

“Oh, one of us is going to get hurt, all right, but I can assure you it won’t be me.” With one hand clutching the sheet to cover her breasts, she grabbed a leather satchel off the floor with the other and attempted to steady herself on her one good foot as she lifted the heavy case over her head.

“That’s enough!” Blake dove forward, throwing both arms around her waist, knocking her off balance. The satchel flew from her hand and she felt a sting of pain on the bottom of her good foot as she fell backward. She didn’t tumble to the floor because Blake held her securely in both his arms, pulling her against his body.

“Let me go!” she screamed. “Let me go!”

He held her tighter against his body, effectively pinning her arms to her sides, molding the entire length of his muscular form to hers. In an effort to escape his embrace, Sapphire threw her weight backward and they both lost their balance and fell onto the narrow bunk, Blake on top.

“Oh!” Sapphire blurted as the sheet slipped and she felt Blake’s unshaven cheek brush against the sensitive skin of her breast. “You’re heavy!” She turned her face away from his.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Blake said, shifting his weight over her, his tone softening as he purposefully lowered his mouth to her breast and she felt the heat of it. “You and I were meant to be together like this, Sapphire. You know it. I know it.”

His lips…his tongue…his teeth were doing unspeakable things to her…wonderful things that made pinwheels of pleasure radiate through her from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes….

“No,” she whispered, and yet she could feel her blood race as every inch of her body responded to his touch. This was wrong—it had to be wrong. She wanted him in the same way he wanted her, and suddenly she was resolved to it. All that seemed to matter at this moment was his touch and his quiet, husky voice that drew her closer.

She ran her fingers through his soft, dark hair, which had grown longer since the day she first met him almost two months ago. He pulled the sheet down and she felt the brush of his slightly rough fingertips.

He kissed his way to the tip of her puckered nipple, kissed the hollow of her throat, the line of her collarbone, continuing on until his mouth met hers. Slowly the warmth of his body and his mouth seeped into her and she kissed him back. As she kissed him, his heat seemed to spread through her limbs, spurring her own inferno, igniting every fiber of her being until she could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her breath coming in gasps.

Burying his face in her hair strewn across the pillow, she felt him slide his hand over her breasts and down the length of her body, exploring her curves and hollows.

When he thrust his tongue into her mouth, she put up no resistance to his exploration. Blake was right; this was meant to be from the beginning, from the first time they met in her father’s parlor just after she had arrived in London. It didn’t matter that she was now bound for Boston against her will. She didn’t know where these actions would lead her or what sorrow it would bring. All she knew was that she needed this man. She needed to feel his touch, needed him to show her what it meant to be a woman.

Blake shifted in the narrow bed, sliding off her to lie on his side beside her, keeping her pinned with one leg. Every limb of her body quivered as she felt his mouth on her breast again, his lips and tongue teasing her nipples until her skin felt as if it were on fire. She heard herself utter a muted, strangely incoherent sound.