My Fake Rake

She didn’t pay heed to the captain, or Mason, or the sailors or passengers or the people on the other vessel. She cared about one person, and one person only.

He surged toward her just as she rushed to him. A moment later, he was in her arms as he held her close. They clung to each other, and only then did she let the tears fall, coursing down her face without cessation.

“You’re here,” she couldn’t stop murmuring over and over. “You’re truly here.”

“I am, love.” He tipped her face up. “If you want me, I’m yours forever.”

Joy flooded her, but she could not stop herself from asking, “Can you forgive me?”

He frowned. “For what?”

“For being foolish. For not saying what I truly felt, and . . . for everything. I’m not being very articulate right now, but give me a few moments, and I shall have much to say.” It could not encompass all that she felt, no words could, yet she had to try. “But I was so wrong for keeping silent when I should have spoken out.”

A regretful smile touched his mouth. “We both are guilty of that crime. So I must beg your forgiveness, as well.”

“Kiss her!” a sailor yelled.

“Kiss him!” the women on the smaller vessel called up.

Her gaze held Sebastian’s, and she saw reflected in his eyes the infinite love she felt for him. She was giddy with it, holding tightly to him to keep from wheeling off into the sky.

He lowered his head as she lifted onto her toes. Their lips found each other, and then the world did fall away as she knew only his taste and feel and a deep sense of homecoming.

Finally, he lifted his head just enough to murmur, “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere you want to go.” Emotion thickened his words. “Just be with me, Grace.”

If his arms had not been encircling her, she would have shattered into fragments of pure joy. “Yes. Oh, yes. Only . . .” She glanced at Mason, who still looked rather stunned by this turn of events. “I’m leaving you without a herpetologist.”

“Oh.” Mason blinked. “Right.”

She disengaged from Sebastian and spoke quickly. “This ship docks next in Reykjavik. I correspond with a herpetologist there. Mr. Mikkael Leifsson. When you dock, find him. He might join your expedition.”

Mason nodded. “I will.” He glanced between her and Sebastian. “It’s been him all along, hasn’t it?”

“I’m so very sorry,” she said.

He ducked his head. “Can’t say this doesn’t hurt—yet I’m glad. For both of you.”

“You’re a true gentleman, Fredericks.” Sebastian held out his hand.

“And you’re a son of a bitch, Holloway,” Mason replied, shaking Sebastian’s hand, “but I don’t hold grudges.”

“Fair enough,” Sebastian said.

“Beg pardon, my lady, and . . . Mister whoever you are,” Captain Collins interrupted. “But if you want off this ship, the time to do it is now.”

Chapter 27

It was no small job to lower Grace, her maid, her companion, and all their luggage onto the yacht, as well as Seb himself, but he’d gladly accept the effort if it meant that he and Grace could be alone. Together. Finally.

He hardly noted how his whole body protested the extreme effort he’d put it through—especially after nearly a month of poor eating—because he could only circle again and again to the fact that Grace loved him.

So he practically soared down to the yacht as it sailed beside the large ship. Once his feet touched the deck, he was met by many handshakes and slaps on the back from the passengers and crew.

“To the dock?” the captain asked him.

Seb looked at Grace, her face bright with excitement and adoration, and his heart jumped. She loves me.

What that meant, what followed, he’d no idea. But of a certain he damned well wanted to find out.

“To the dock,” he answered.

The ropes connecting the yacht and the ship were undone. Seb and Grace waved farewell to Fredericks, who stood at the railing and shook his head as if still attempting to understand what had just transpired. Then Fredericks waved back, which gave Seb some measure of peace.