Page 36 of Good Duke Gone Wild

Next only to that was her commitment to be faithful to him. No experiences with other men were to be had. Only him.

Well, that of course was only if the wedding was real. Which it wasn’t. At all.

Chapter 19

“PUT ME DOWN,” AGATHA shrieked in a knowingly futile attempt. Currently being lugged up the ship over Jude’s shoulder was uncomfortable on a number of levels. First, she was being lugged on a man’s shoulders as if she were a sack of potatoes. That was the obvious one. Second, though his shoulders were broad and beefy, his rugged march and accompanying jolt with each step bounced her in a way that a lady should never bounce in public. And third, despite all of this, including his rudeness, she was aroused.

His closeness. His ocean scent intermingled with the fragrance from his fresh soap. Her nostrils, of all parts, were the first to jump onboard the Jude ship.

Damn him, but she still wanted to be writhing underneath him seeking her pleasure. Perhaps it was that swat to her bottom that had put her over the edge, but she could feel the wetness between her legs and it wasn’t going away.

Once they were aboard, Jude didn’t stop until they were alone in his cabin. Tossing her on the bed, he pointed at her and said (as only a captain could say), “Let’s get one thing straight. We’re not married. You’re not my wife. Whatever happened just now won’t be legal inBritain.” Like an ogre, he held up his palm to cut her off, “And the only reason I didn’t argue with you back there was because I didn’t need you getting hysterical in front of the vicar. On foreign soil, no less.”

Oh, this man. He thought he controlled everything, didn’t he? And hysterical? He was worried she would have gone hysterical back in France if he didn’t marry her? (Yes, she would have.) But he hadn’t seen anything yet. If he thought he could lock her up in his cabin and pretend that their marriage was fake, she was about to show him all the worst kinds of hysterical that he could imagine. And some he would never be able to, no matter how long he lived.

Damn it, she had had about enough of him.

The only problem was…well, him. And she needed time to think. She inhaled deeply and breathed out some of her mounting frustrations. Hysterical sounded amazing, but perhaps she needed her head about her. Needed to make a plan. Needed a clear headspace to scheme without him getting in the way. There was no way to make that happen, enclosed on a ship.

Unless…

Well…

There was one surefire way.

But…

No…

She shouldn’t. She really shouldn’t. What kind of conniving and controlling-yet-out-of-control hellion would that make her?

Whatever. She didn’t care. She couldn’t care. It was her life. It wasn’t just about him. She had a life to live. Dreams to fulfill. Days to enjoy in wonder and delight. She had to have a life that she was proud of, knowing she had done everything she could do to be her best self. Might as well risk everything because all would be lostin a day anyway, unless she took action and made something happen. Something out of nothing. But she could do it.

And all she had to do was plan her actions. The outcome would be out of her hands.

“Fine. You’ll be my husband for a day.” She mustered as much dignity as she could clad in a frumpy frock, awkwardly trying to sit up straight without leaning on the headboard yet sinking into the mattress.

Coming closer with that irritating index finger in her face, he growled, “Not even for one day.”

“Your loss, then.” She made to undo her buttons.

“What are you doing?” His eyes flared in anger…and hunger. Just as she suspected. She knew he wanted her, at least physically. That much was certain. And really, how much of a leap could it be from wanting someone physically to wanting them wholly? She was pretty sure she could sway him. And if she had to use her body to do it, she would. She was willing to do anything at this point to get the life she wanted.

Moving her fingers deftly down a few more buttons, she said, “Im disrobing.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

No answer. He was just spluttering again. Which was almost adorable, except that she was annoyed with him. But she had to admit that for some reason his flustered state gave her hope. Mostly because it seemed to be the most tangible proof that he quite possibly did have deeper feelings for her. All she needed to do was get him to admit them.

“It’s not time to sleep.”

“What time is it then?”

His eyes darted around. “It’s time for tea.”

She thought her eyes would nearly pop out of her head at the mention of tea, but come to think of it, she could use a good cup. And so could he. He might be a more willing accomplice in her plan than she could expect. Tea, of all things, though. Of course it would do the trick.

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