Adele Ashworth by Stolen Charms Read Free Book Online Page B

board the ship with just his palm lightly clasping her fingers.
    He’d paid for her passage, she assumed, since she had yet to give him money. But she would. She’d been saving every last penny of her allowance for two years now and she had plenty, divided wisely between her trunks, portmanteau, and reticule. She’d even hidden some beneath the soles and hollowed-out heels of a select number of her seven pairs of shoes, where her grandfather, and then her mother, were known to have carried money for emergencies. Natalie didn’t know who originally thought of stuffing money beneath one’s feet, but she supposed if one were to cross the ocean or foreign land and be put-upon by pirates or gypsies, the hiding place would serve its purpose excellently.
    She felt Jonathan shift his body, moving slightly closer, and shyly she realized his gaze now fell on the side of her face, its warmth as stinging as the salty air.
    “It’s time for discussion, Natalie.”
    She knew he’d finally suggest a serious conversation. No need to draw attention to it, though. “A discussion?” she repeated coyly. “We’ve been talking all day—”
    “Where does everybody think you are?” he interrupted, ignoring her evasion by coming directly to the point.
    Nervously, she looked around. The deck had cleared of people as evening fell, although somewhere in the distance she heard laughter, the hearty laughter of a woman followed by the rumble of a man’s voice, words indistinguishable. It was then that she realized Jonathan Drake was her only connection to their homeland. They were now a team, like it or not, and they would need to rely on one another, although admittedly she more than he. She would also need to be a little more forthcoming.
    “Natalie?”
    Irritated, she turned to face him. He was watching her, smugly amused, and she wanted to snap at him. Every time he said her name it sounded like a silky caress, and she really wished he’d stop. But stop what? Speaking to her? That was silly.
    She crossed her arms over her breasts—a useless gesture because she knew her traveling cloak, buttoned tightly against her, really only accentuated them. Already several times that day his eyes had strayed there, lingering inappropriately.
    “Everybody thinks I’m visiting my great-aunt Regina in Newburn,” she revealed at last.
    He cocked a brow and leaned his hip on the railing. “You don’t think your lies will be discovered eventually?”
    “No. Aunt Regina is seventy-seven, and her mind doesn’t work very well. She’ll never remember whether I was there or not. And my parents will believe it without question when I tell them, upon their return from Italy, that I went there for a time to contemplate and decide upon whom I should marry.”
    “You’ve planned everything very well,” he praised her after a moment of thought.
    She smiled in satisfaction. “I think so.”
    He lowered his voice. “And are you?”
    “Am I what?”
    “Contemplating someone real to marry,” he clarified.
    She gazed up to him with a purposeful look of confusion. “You mean someone other than the Black Knight?”
    “You know exactly what I mean.”
    She hugged herself against the cool sea breeze. “If you mean a conventional Englishman, no.” With a small, impish laugh, she added, “But my parents will believe it, and that’s what matters. They’re desperate to have me married, since, at nearly twenty-three, I’m a frequent topic of conversation at parties. I’ve turned four respectable gentlemen down in as many years. Lots of people find that, if not amusing, a bit strange.”
    He waited again for a second or two, watching her closely. “What about Lord Richard Mydell or Geoffrey Blythe of Guildford?”
    She grasped a stray curl blowing across her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “Richard is a slob, and poor Geoffrey, sweet though he may be, has the personality of doornails. . . .” Her voice trailed off as she looked back to his face.