She left the room just as quickly, for Anthony hadn't waited to start undressing George. In the corridor, she stared at the door to Anthony's room. This was what he meant for her to do, wasn't it? But then where else could she sleep? Jeremy and James probably weren't home yet, but they would be. And there were only the four rooms upstairs.

She entered the room hesitantly, expecting to find Willis waiting there for Anthony, even though the valet

had been scarce these past two weeks, coming only when Anthony summoned him. The room was empty, however. Either Anthony had planned this, or he hadn't yet told Willis to hold himself available again. Then, too, the hourwasearly, by London standards. Willis wouldn't expect Anthony home this soon.

Roslynn sighed, not knowing what to think. But she wasn't going to miss this opportunity. She couldn't have planned it better herself. She wouldn't have to sacrifice her pride and confess what a fool she'd been. She could simply show Anthony that she wasn't adverse to being here, that in fact she wanted to be here.

She began removing her evening apparel. She was down to her chemise when Anthony walked into the room. His gaze rested on her for several heartbeats before he went on into his dressing room. Roslynn hastily got into bed. She wished he had said something. God, how this reminded her of her wedding night. And she was just as nervous now as she had been then.

When he came out, he was wearing only a robe. She at least had thought to slip on a nightgown. She wasn't going to bethatobvious about what she wanted.

But it was obvious. While he moved about the room to turn down the lamps, desire lit the golden flecks in her eyes as they followed his superb form. She had had too much of him lately. She had found that it wasn't nearly enough. It never would be.

It was dark now, with only a silver stream of moonlight spilling in through the windows. Before her eyes adjusted, her other senses came alive. She could smell him as he drew near. When the bed dipped, she held her breath, waiting. She was experiencing that same giddy feeling she always felt when he was near.

He would lean toward her in a moment. His mouth would find hers in the dark, warm, demanding…

"Good night, my dear."

Her eyes flew open. Hell's teeth, he hadn't planned the eviction from her room, after all. He was holding to her own rules not to touch her once she had conceived. It wasn't fair. Howcouldhe, when she was lying right next to him, wanting him more than anything?

"Anthony—"

"Yes?"

His tone was sharp to her ears, killing her courage. "Nothing," she mumbled.

Roslynn lay there, counting her heartbeats, wishing she had drunk more than two glasses of champagne at Frances' party. But she had been thinking of tomorrow morning and the nausea she would have to fight to get to the wedding. She hadn't known sleep was going to be impossible. Just last night she had felt free to turn to Anthony, to rest her head on his chest, to counthisheartbeats. What a world of difference a single day made. No, not the day. Her cursed bargain.

This just wouldn't do. She was going to have to…

She heard the groan just before Anthony's hands reached over and pulled her across his chest. His kiss was wild, full of unleashed passion that set them both aflame. Roslynn didn't question it, she just accepted, so delighted and relieved that she abandoned herself completely, wantonly, to the moment.

Pride couldn't equal this. She loved him. She would have to tell him, but now was not the time. Later,

when she could think clearly once again.

Chapter Forty-three

Itseemed anything and everything was conspiring against Rosiynn to keep her from having a private word with Anthony, including herself. She had fallen blissfully asleep after they had made love the other night, and then the next morning Anthony had awakened her simply to tell her that George had left and she could have her room back. Just like that, as if the night had never been. And when she had been about to detain him, her stomach had erupted and she had made it to her room only in the nick of time.

Then there had been the wedding and the luncheon afterward that had taken most of the afternoon. But Anthony hadn't come home with her. He had gone off directly to spend this last evening with his brother, and Roslynn spent a tortuous night wondering what they were up to, because neither of them came home until the small hours of the morning.

And this morning she had been hurried out of bed for the ride to the docks to see theMaiden Anneoff, with the whole family showing up for the occasion. She stood off to the side now with Jeremy while James' brothers each embraced him and bade him a fair voyage. She had kissed him good-bye herself, a brief peck, what with Anthony's close attention, which James couldn't resist commenting on.

"I suppose you'll miss him terribly, Jeremy?"

The boy grinned at her. "Hell's bells, he won't be gonethatlong. And I doubt I'll have time to miss him.

He's laid the law down, don't you know. I'm to bury myself in studies, and get me no bast—ah, that is, I'm to stay out of trouble, mind Uncle Tony, and yourself, of course, and do him proud."

"I'm sure you'll be up to it." Roslynn tried to smile, but the smells of the wharf were doing her in. She had to get to the carriage before she disgraced herself. "I believe it's your turn to tell your father good-bye, laddie."

Jeremy was crushed not only by James but by Conrad as well, and had to listen to another long list of dos and don'ts from the first mate. But he was saved by the tide. It wouldn't wait, and both men were forced to board.

James could blame Anthony for the hangover that nearly made him forget. He called Jeremy up the gangplank and handed him a note. "See your aunt Roslynn gets this, but not when Tony's around."

Jeremy pocketed the note. "It's not a love letter, is it?"

"A love letter?" James snorted. "Get out of here, puppy. And see you—"

"I know, I know." Jeremy threw up his hands, laughing. "I won't do anything you wouldn't."

He ran back down the gangplank before James could take him to task for his impudence. But he was smiling as he turned away, and came face-to-face with Conrad.

"What was that about?"

James shrugged, realizing Connie had seen him pass the note. "I decided to lend a hand after all. At the rate Tony's going, he'd be floundering forever."

"I thought you weren't going to interfere," Connie reminded him.

"Well, he is my brother, isn't he? Though why I bother after the dirty trick he played on me last night,I don't know." At Connie's raised brow, he grinned, despite the slow throb in his head. "Made sure I'd be feeling miserable today to cast off, the bloody sod."

"But you went along with it, naturally?"

"Naturally. Couldn't have the lad drinking me under the table, now, could I? But you'll have to see us off, Connie. I'm afraid I'm done for. Report to me in my cabin after we're under way."

An hour later, Connie poured a measure of rye from the well-stocked cabinet in the captain's cabin and joined James at his desk. "You're not going to worry about the boy, are you?"

"That rascal?" James shook his head, wincing slightly when his headache returned, and took another sip of the tonic Connie had had sent from the galley. "Tony will see he doesn't get into any serious scrapes. If anyone will worry, it's you. You should have had one of your own, Connie."

"I probably do. I just haven't found him yet like you did the lad. You've probably more yourself that you don't know about."

"Good God, one's enough," James replied in mock horror, gaining a chuckle from his friend. "Now what have you to report? How many of the old crew were available?"

"Eighteen. And there was no problem filling the ranks, except for the bos'n, as I told you before."

"So we're sailing without one? That'll put a heavy load on yourself, Connie."

"Aye, if I hadn't found a man yesterday, or rather, if he hadn't volunteered. Wanted to sign on as passengers, him and his brother. When I told him theMaiden Annedon't carry passengers, he offered to work his way across. A more persistent Scot I've never seen."

"Another Scot? As if I ain't had enough to do with them lately. I'm bloody well glad your own Scot's ancestors are so far back you don't remember them, Connie. Between hunting down Lady Roslynn's cousin and running into that little vixen and her companion— "

"I thought you'd forgotten about that."

James' answer was a scowl. "How do you know this Scot knows the first thing about rigging?"

"I put him through the paces. I'd say he's had the job before. And he does claim to have sailed before, as quartermaster, ship's carpenter, and bos'n."

"If that's true, he'll come in right handy. Very well. Is there anything else?"

"Johnny got married."

"Johnny? My cabin boy, Johnny?" James' eyes flared. "Good God, he's only fifteen! What the devil does he think he's doing?"

Connie shrugged. "Says he fell in love and can't bear to leave the little woman."

"Little woman?" James sneered. "That cocky little twit needs a mother, not a wife." His head was pounding again, and he swilled down the rest of the tonic.

"I've found you another cabin boy. MacDonell's brother—"

Tonic spewed across James' desk. "Who?" he choked.

"Blister it, James, what's got into you?"

"You said MacDonell? Would his first name be Ian?"

"Aye." Now Connie's eyes flared. "Good God, he's not the Scot from that tavern, is he?"

James waved away the question. "Did you get a good look at the brother?"

"Come to think of it, no. He was a little chap, though, quiet, hiding behind his brother's coattails. I didn't have much choice in signing him on, what with Johnny only letting me know two days ago that he was staying in England. But you can't mean to think—"

"But I do." And suddenly James was laughing. "Oh, God, Connie, this is priceless. I went back to look for that little wench, you know, but she and her Scot had disappeared from the area. Now here she's fallen right into my lap."

Connie grunted. "Well, I can see you're going to have a pleasant crossing."

"You may depend upon it." James' grin was decidedly wolfish. "But we shan't unmask her disguise just yet. I've a mind to play with her first."

"You could be wrong, you know. She might be a boy after all."

"I doubt it," James replied. "But I'll find out when she begins her duties."

And as theMaiden Anneleft England behind, James contemplated those duties and how he would add to them in the coming weeks. This was indeed going to be a pleasant voyage.

Chapter Forty-four

"Yo're not going out again, are you?"

Anthony stopped in the process of putting his gloves on. "I was."

Roslynn left the parlor doorway, stepping closer to him. They had been home only a little over an hour.

It had taken her this long to get up the courage to approach him, but that courage was fast deserting her now that the opportunity was here. But she had to do it.

"I would like a word with you."

"Very well." He indicated the parlor.

"No, upstairs." At his sharply arched brow, she blushed and quickly added, "In my room." Jeremy was in the house somewhere, but this was one conversation she didn't want interrupted. "We can be private there—for what I have to say."

"Then lead on, my dear."

His tone implied indifference. God, he was not going to make this easy for her. And what if he didn't care? What if she succeeded only in making a fool of herself?

Roslynn hurried upstairs with Anthony slowly following. He was dragging his feet, afraid he wasn't going to like what she had to say. It was too soon for her to say what he wanted to hear. He had figured it would take at least several weeks before she would admit she didn't like sleeping alone. She wouldn't balk then when he put his foot down and demanded she honor her original agreement with him to be a wife in every way.

Roslynn was already seated on the chaise longue when Anthony entered her room. Since that seat was taken and the bed was out of the question, he sat down on the stool at her vanity only a few feet away.

He fiddled with the perfume bottles there, waiting for her to begin. The piece of paper was just something else to touch, but when he opened it, James' handwriting caught his immediate attention.

"Anthony, could you at least look at me?" He did, his eyes narrowed now, and she lowered her own. "I don't know how else to say this except… I was wrong."

"Wrong?"

"To put limitations on our marriage. I—I would like to start over.''

She glanced up then. The last thing she expected to see was anger, but there was no mistaking that he was angry.

"Could this have anything to do with your sudden change of heart?" The paper dangled from his fingers.

"What is it?" she asked warily.

"Don't play games with me, Roslynn! You know exactly what it is," he said tersely.

She matched her tone to his, forgetting for the moment all about reconciliation. "No, I don't! Where did you get it?"

"On your vanity."

"Impossible. I changed clothes when I returned from the docks, and that, whatever it is"—she pointed at the paper—"wasnoton my table."