Addicted to the Duke (Imperfect Lords #1)(20)

There was movement on the deck. Men scurried like tiny ants over the two-hundred-foot hull with its double gun decks and intricate network of rigging that supported the three towering masts.

“Prepared for trouble I see,” she told Alex, who’d halted his steed by her side.

“You know better than anyone the pirates at work in the Mediterranean. If your father is in trouble, I thought it best to be prepared. Those waters are dangerous. I’m not taking any chances.”

A shiver danced like ice-cold rain over her skin.

“Let me help you down,” Alex said as he swung from his stallion as if their four-day journey had only been to the nearest village and back. She hated how he looked so fresh and relaxed, while she felt as if she’d been trampled by a herd of bulls. Bloody big bulls.

Too tired to care if she gave herself away, she simply let him lift her off the horse, and as she slid down the hard length of him, not even the feel of that muscled body could rouse anything other than gratitude for the fact he was holding her up.

“Can you make it up the gangplank?” he uttered quietly with no real concern in his voice, given she was dressed as a man and he was holding her.

“I shall try,” she said, the words themselves an effort. With that she let go of his shoulders and took one ginger step. Her bottom burned from saddle sores and her legs felt like they would give way at any moment. And then they did, and she dropped to her knees.

“Jacob,” Alex yelled. A man raced down the gangplank. “Send the lad to take care of the horses while I help Mr. Appleton on board. He’s had too much to drink.” His words were obviously a story for those listening.

“I’m not sure I can act drunk,” she whispered back.

“You’re doing a fine job of it. Just lean on me.” With that he pulled her to her feet, wrapped a strong, dependable arm around her waist, draped one of her arms over his shoulder, and half dragged, half carried her onto the ship.

As soon as her foot hit the solid planks of the deck, memories flooded her and tears sprang to her eyes. Her exhaustion fed her emotions and she hated how weak and fearful she felt.

She couldn’t quite believe she’d agreed to this journey. Lady Hestia Cary was about to set sail on the high seas with the Duke of Bedford to the one place that held terrible memories for both of them. Sometimes her father’s selfishness left little room in her heart for love.

Even in her exhausted state that thought was unfair, because her father had no idea what Fredrick had done. She just wished that for once she would matter to him—or to anyone besides her aunt. Since her mother died, Aunt Eliza was the only person who cared what happened to her.

Her aunt loved her, she was sure of that, but that was partly because Eliza had no one else. Hestia wanted to marry for love, but she prayed she would not end up like her aunt—all alone. Spending her life alone scared her even more than never finding love. Over the last twelve months she began to understand why her mother agreed to wed her father even when her mother was wealthy in her own right and they did not suit.

She wanted a family.

Once they were out of the view of the dock below, Alex swung her up in his arms and for one instant her troubles slipped away. She felt safe.

She breathed deep. He smelled of horse and stale sweat, but she didn’t care. This man owned her heart. Yes, when she was younger perhaps it was hero worship because he had rescued her, but as she watched him take on his father’s title, dedicate himself to his family, his tenants, and his duties to this country, the adoration deepened.

Half asleep, she jerked awake when he kicked open the door of a small cabin and laid her on the bunk bed.

“The ship’s surgeon, Mr. Foxhall, has vacated his cabin for you. It’s basic, clean, and has an opening porthole. It will also allow you a measure of privacy. I’d give you my cabin, but if anyone gets close enough to spy on us it would look strange.”

All she could feel was the soft mattress under her, and she could not keep her eyes open a moment longer. “Hmmm, it’s perfect.”

Silenced reigned, but she was too tired to care what he was looking at. She was a mess, but he’d never really noticed her when she looked her best, so why should she care what she looked like in his eyes?

For some reason, Alex went out of his way to ignore her whenever possible. As her aching joints and burning bottom began to fade to a soft throbbing, a smile curved her lips. He couldn’t ignore her now. Not stuck on this ship.

His lips pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You did well, Hestia. You’ve earned your sleep.”

And then she heard the cabin door shut and she was alone. She forced herself to stay awake long enough to take care of her personal needs. Then slipped out of her clothes and into the large man’s shirt she found at the end of her bunk.

Tucked up in bed, the gentle sway of the ship at dock adding to her need for sleep, she gave a satisfied sigh. She’d finally gained entrance to his world. Now she would perhaps begin to understand the man who confused her more than anyone she knew.

She’d just spent the last four days with Alex and he’d barely spoken a word to her other than to urge her to keep up. On the first night, when they had reached the Bracken estate, Alex’s sister, Therese, took her off to hear all the gossip from town. Then he’d ordered her to have dinner in her room, as she needed to retire early to be fresh for the long ride to Portsmouth. It had annoyed her that he’d been right. At the inn the following night she’d barely had enough energy for a bath before she’d fallen into her bed, bone weary.