Chapter One
London Harbor – Late June, 1817
“Nooo…”
The strangled cry startled Yvette awake. Chest heaving, she choked on dry, rasping sobs, grasping for the folding dagger beneath her pillow. Gulping against the lump wedged in her throat, she fought to draw air into her lungs and calm her stampeding pulse.
Lord, another nightmare about Edgar.
Eyes wide, she peered into the darkness. A sliver of light peeked in the ship’s porthole. The moonbeam illuminated the cramped, airless cabin and the occupants of the equally uncomfortable berths. Though meager, the glow allowed her to see the shadowy interior of her tiny stateroom.
Closing her eyes, she sagged against the bedding in relief. She swallowed again. Finally. The stranglehold of fear evaporated. Well, not entirely. Truth be told, the suspicious deaths of her parents, her own mysterious riding accident, and Edgar’s attempted rape still haunted her. Though there was no proof, she suspected Edgar might be responsible for the latter two as well.
The air above the upper berth was hot and thick. Sticky with sweat, Yvette kicked off her coarse blanket and reached to push a damp curl off her face. Her hand froze in midair.
Before the nightmare, she had been dreaming of him.
It was uncanny, but Yvette knew him almost as much as if he had been a flesh and blood man. She recognized his spicy, male scent and the feel of his firm lips on hers. His powerful body and his sinewy embrace holding her close, keeping her safe, had become familiar to her. That’s what she cherished the most. The safety of his arms.
Yvette touched her lips. They throbbed beneath her fingertips. He had been kissing her. Keeping her eyes closed, she furrowed her brows, and tried to summon his face. Skittering across the fringes of her memory, like some elusive phantom, the image lurked beyond the reaches of her consciousness, then, flitted away.
His eyes, though, she remembered his eyes.
