Surrender of a Siren (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #2)(113)

Gray laughed. “Look at that ship. That clipper cost me a queen’s ransom, even with the Kestrel thrown in the bargain. But it was the fastest ship to be had.” He took her hands in his. “Forget money. Forget society. Forget expectations. We’ve no talent for following rules, remember? We have to follow our hearts. You taught me that.”

He gathered her to him, drawing her hands to his chest. “God, sweet, don

’t you know? You’ve had my heart in your pocket since the day we met. Following my heart means following you. I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth if I have to.” He shot an amused glance at the captain. “Though I’d expect your good captain would prefer I didn’t. In fact, I think he’d gladly marry us today, just to be rid of me.”

“Today? But we couldn’t.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Oh, but we could.” He pulled her to the other side of the ship, slightly away from the gaping crowd. Wrapping his arms around her, he leaned close to whisper in her ear, “Happy birthday, love.”

Sophia melted in his embrace. It was her birthday, wasn’t it? The day she’d been anticipating for months, and here she’d forgotten it completely. Until Gray had appeared on the horizon, she hadn’t been looking forward to anything.

But now she did. She looked forward to marriage, and children, and love and grand adventure. Real life and true passion. All of it with this man. “Oh, Gray.”

“Please say yes,” he whispered. “Sophia.” The name was a caress against her ear. “I love you.”

He kissed her cheek and pulled away. “I’ve been remiss in not telling you. You can’t know how I’ve regretted it. But I love you, Sophia Jane Hathaway. I love you as no man ever loved a woman. I love you so much, I fear I’ll burst with it. In fact, I think I shall burst if I go another minute without kissing you, so if you’ve any mind to say yes, I’d thank you to—”

Sophia flung her arms around his neck and kissed him. Hard at first, to quiet the fool man; then gently, to savor him. Oh, how she loved the taste of him, like freshly-baked bread and rum. Warm and wholesome and comforting, with just a hint of spice and danger. “Yes,” she sighed against his lips. She pulled back and looked into his eyes. “Yes, I will marry you.”

His arms tightened about her waist. “Today?”

“Today. But you must let me change my gown first.” Smiling, she stroked his smooth cheek. “You even shaved.”

“Every day since we left Tortola.” He gave her a rueful smile. “I’ve a few new scars to show for it.”

“Good.” She kissed him. “I’m glad. And I don’t care if society casts us out for the pirates we are, just as long as I’m with you.”

“Oh, I don’t know that we’ll be cast out, exactly. We’re definitely not pirates. After your stirring testimony”—he chucked her under the chin—

“Fitzhugh decided to make the best of an untenable situation. Or an unhangable pirate, as it were. If he couldn’t advance his career by convicting me, he figured he’d advance it by commending me. Awarded me the Kestrel as salvage and recommended me to the governor for a special citation of valor. There’s talk of knighthood.” He grinned. “Can you believe it? Me, a hero.”

“Of course I believe it.” She laced her fingers at the back of his neck. “I’ve always known it, although I should curse that judge and his ‘citation of valor.’ As if you needed a fresh supply of arrogance. Just remember, what ever they deem you—gentleman or scoundrel, hero or pirate—you are mine.”

“So I am.” He kissed her soundly, passionately. “And which would you prefer tonight?” At the seductive growl in his voice, shivers of arousal swept down to her toes. “Your gentleman? Your scoundrel? Your hero or your pirate?”

She laughed. “I imagine I’ll enjoy all four on occasion. But tonight, I believe I shall find tremendous joy in simply calling you my husband.”

He rested his forehead against hers. “My love.”

“That, too.”

EPILOGUE

LONDON, FIVE WEEKS LATER

Sophia did not expect anyone to come calling today. They’d made their quiet arrival at Gray’s town house just a few days ago, and the only two letters she’d posted—one to her mother, the other to her sister—had thus far gone unanswered. It was too soon to hope for a reply.

Yet there Hurst stood in the doorway, a card on his salver. “A caller for you, ma’am. Lady Lucinda Trescott, the Countess of Kendall.”

“It is you!” Lucy angled around the manservant, pushing her way into the salon. “I heard you were back, but I couldn’t believe it until I saw for myself.”

“Lady Kendall.” Astonished, Sophia rose to her feet, as did Bel. “Allow me to introduce my sister-in-law, Miss Grayson. However did you know I was here?”

“Are we to be so formal then? Must I call you Lady Grayson?” With a polite nod to Bel, Lucy crossed the room and caught Sophia in an exuberant hug. “Jeremy heard word of your husband’s commendation. That’s how I knew you were here.” She surveyed Sophia from head to toe. “Now tell me, wherever have you been?”

“To visit your cousins, actually.” Sophia’s attention shifted to the strange bump obstructing their embrace. “Lucy, you’re with child!”