So what did Blake mean, Sapphire wondered as he tipped her chin and brushed his lips against hers. Was he saying that as long as she expected nothing from him, he wouldn’t hurt her? That they could have this time together and then she could walk away, unharmed?
Was Blake saying that he could never love her?
It was a sad thought, but perhaps one she needed to consider.
18
After the first night on ship, Sapphire and Blake settled into a routine that she might have found utterly enjoyable under different circumstances. The early August weather was excellent each day and they took most of their meals on the deck at the small table Blake had transported for just that purpose. On the stern, it was breezy but not overly so, and the warmth of the sun was splendid. Sapphire spent much of her day reading from Blake’s eclectic collection of books, playing chess or cards with him, or simply enjoying the fresh air. While used to being more active, after a few days of adjustment she was able to relax and accept her time here with Blake as it was, while allowing her ankle to heal. Ten days into their journey and more than halfway there, she was able to walk on her own and it only pained her slightly.
Except for the cabin boy, Ralphie, who served the meals and saw to any of their personal needs, Sapphire rarely saw the sailors on board, except from afar. Blake had left strict instructions not to be disturbed and the crew respected this request, probably out of fear of him, she guessed, for he could truly be an intimidating man.
The captain, a Bostonian named Jeremy Pottle, would make his daily report to Blake, telling of the expected weather, the number of miles they had covered the previous day and the number they hoped to cover that day. Sometimes he and Blake discussed the workings of the steam engine, but he never dallied. He spoke clearly and quickly and never stayed a moment longer in Blake’s presence than absolutely required.
This morning as Sapphire watched Captain Pottle make his retreat from their table on the aft deck, dressed in a navy wool coat with shiny buttons and a cap, she nodded in his direction. “What did you do to him?” she asked Blake.
“Pardon?” Blake glanced over the top of the book he’d been reading—something he had acquired in England about the latest developments in the different types of fuel used to run engines similar to the one powering the ship they were on. He sat facing the sun, one boot propped on the table, his shirt half-open, and she found herself having to control her thoughts.
They had already made love this morning before coming up for breakfast. What kind of a wanton woman would Blake think she was, desiring him again? She was no better than her beloved Angel, whom she missed very much. That thought made her laugh. It was pretty obvious what kind of wanton woman she was and she had no wish to repent of her sins. Not today, at least.
“I don’t understand the question,” Blake said, interrupting her mischievous thoughts.
“Captain Pottle—he acts as if he’s scared to death of you. Why?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He reached for a stoneware mug filled with fresh coffee. They might have been traveling on a transport ship, but Blake liked his amenities: fresh fruit, fresh vegetables, daily baked bread and Caribbean coffee, strong and black.
“You don’t see the way he acts around you, as if he’s afraid you might lash out at him at any moment?”
Blake frowned. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“No, I don’t suppose you would.” Blake was a strange man, so arrogant, so egotistical in so many ways and yet in others, he was clearly unpretentious.
She rose.
“Where are you going?”
“To the cabin to get the chess set—the waters are still calm enough to play on deck. You may have beaten me yesterday, but it was only a fluke.” She walked past him in her bare feet, drawing her fingers along the back of his neck as she went by.
Below deck, in the cabin, Sapphire sat down on the floor in front of the bed she shared with Blake and pulled out the drawer built beneath it. As she retrieved the carved ivory and onyx chess set in its wooden storage box, she
thought about another box under another bed so far from her, the casket that had been her mother’s.
Tears filled Sapphire’s eyes as she thought of the box left under the bed in the apartments her aunt Lucia had rented. Heavens, but she missed that box. And her family.
Feeling foolish, she wiped her eyes.
She was so confused by her emotions. How could she sit there on the deck with Blake and laugh and share breakfast with him, when he had taken her from her aunt who had no idea what had become of her? And worse, how could she make love with him when he still maintained she was a fortune hunter, still refusing to believe she might really be the late Lord Wessex’s daughter?
Perhaps that was why she yearned for her mother’s box. The precious casket was her proof—if not to him, then to herself—that she was Edward’s daughter, and that her mother had been married to him, that she was someone. She was not the daughter of a whore, but of a wealthy, titled man and his beloved wife. She was no fortune hunter, but a woman of title and lineage, one who deserved to be loved, could be loved by a man like Blake Thixton…
Loved by Blake Thixton? Where had that thought come from?
Fresh tears ran down her cheeks. She didn’t want Blake’s love! He had made it plain to her that he was interested in nothing more than a tryst. She was only making love to him because…because…
The tears fell harder on her cheeks. Just because she had given herself to him did not mean she was his mistress. She would never be that. She deserved more.
What Blake Thixton didn’t realize was that she was only biding her time until they reached America. Once they were there, she would set him straight. She would flatly refuse to be his mistress and demand he put her on the next ship to England. He hadn’t even allowed her to address the subject of who she really was, and with each passing day she became even more determined to prove her claim to him. Blake was right too often. When he had kidnapped her he’d said that it was time someone taught her a lesson. In time, Sapphire intended to be the one teaching him a lesson.
“Sapphire? Are you all right?”