Page 26 of I Do, I Do, I Do
“Ready?” Mr. Dare inquired.
“Actually, no,” Clara said, releasing Bear’s hand and leaning back in her chair. “It’s very warm in here, and this cape feels restrictive.” Pulling open the ribbons that tied the cape in front, she smiled up at Ben Dare. “Would you—?”
“It would be my pleasure.” Stepping behind her, Ben lifted the cape from her shoulders.
The audience released a hissing noise like the sound of escaping steam, followed by stunned silence. Bear’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped and he didn’t even try to disguise the direction of his gaze.
The bodice that she and Juliette and Zoe had all taken a hand in altering now scooped so indecently low that it skimmed the tops of her nipples. Even to her it seemed that acres of full creamy skin lay thrust up by her corset and exposed to view. And she knew she had skin as smooth and inviting as a peach. Big beautiful breasts that begged to be stroked and kissed. Jean Jacques had said so a hundred times.
Leaning forward, giving Mr. Barrett a full heart-stopping view, she planted her elbow on the book again, and clasped his limp hand. His bones appeared to have dissolved.
“Oh—my—God,” he whispered hoarsely, staring down into her cleavage. It was impressive cleavage indeed. The good Lord hadn’t given her big hips without balancing her out with big glorious breasts.
“We’re ready,” Clara said pleasantly, nodding to Ben Dare.
With great effort, Ben wrenched his gaze up from her bosom, checked their elbows, then swallowed hard. “On your mark.”
Looking dazed, Bear blinked and stiffened his wrist. “The match is starting?”
“Almost,” Clara murmured, fluttering her eyelashes.
“Get set.”
“That perfume is making me…and those…”
“Go!”
Clara gripped his hand hard, putting her strength behind the clasp. They leaned into each other over the corner of the table, gazing deeply into each other’s eyes. Then Clara slowly and deliberately licked the tip of her tongue around the edges of her parted lips.
Bear sucked in a sharp breath, stared hard, and a drop of sweat rolled down his temples. But Clara wasn’t finished with him. She inhaled, letting her breasts swell and swell until he couldn’t resist, and he dropped his gaze down the front of her dress for a direct look.
And bang, she had him. Seizing the exact moment, she slammed his forearm down on the table and held it there until he looked up into her eyes with a hot brown gaze that set all her exposed skin aflame. A searing gaze that made her tingle where decent women weren’t supposed to tingle. Nose to nose, eye to eye, neither of them made a move to unclasp their hands.
Later, when she thought about every little detail, Clara supposed there must have been an uproar from the audience. But she didn’t hear a thing except her pulse roaring in her ears as she and Bear leaned toward each other, hands locked, faces close enough to feel the warmth of each other’s rapid breath. It was like they were utterly alone in a bubble of scents and gazes and heat and pulses racing where their wrists met. He ravaged her with a smoldering stare and she ravaged him right back.
Heaven help her, but if Jean Jacques had walked into the mess hall, she wouldn’t have given that Frenchman a second look.
“For heaven’s sake, get out of that dress. You’re practically naked!” Juliette snapped, while Clara counted eighty dollars into her outstretched hand. According to Clara’s triumphant account, the extra money came from the wagers Clara had placed on her succeeding matches. “I still can’t believe you exposed yourself to a roomful of men. It’s indecent.”
“It was practical. A person does what she has to do, and I won the tournament, didn’t I?” She started to relate the story again, how she had pinned five other male arms after beating Bear and had won each match in under thirty seconds.
“It’s disgraceful what you did,” Zoe interrupted, thrusting her arm past the edge of the bottom bunk to receive her share of the win. She managed a wan smile. “And very clever.”
Juliette tucked the money into her wrist bag. Clara had left her all morning with Zoe, and she was desperate for some fresh air and an escape from the fetid atmosphere of their cubicle. After glancing into the mirror at the tired dark circles under her eyes, she pinned on her hat and took the cape Clara returned.
“Her majesty is in particularly bad humor today,” she warned, marveling that she could refer to Zoe so rudely. But after living in cramped quarters for three seemingly endless weeks, they were no longer strangers and no longer polite.
“Well damn it, you’d be in a temper, too, if you were dying!”
Juliette ground her teeth. Zoe had picked up bad habits while growing up with six brothers. She considered pointing out that swearing was unbecoming behavior, but her advice would only fall on deaf ears. Instead, she silently glared at the two of them, then sailed out the door and up the staircase into cold clean air that smelled and tasted like ambrosia.
The coastline caught her by surprise. Though she should have, she hadn’t anticipated the mountains. Even when she was purchasing heavy woolen underwear, she hadn’t been able to imagine snow and cold. Well, here was her first glimpse of snow, and the afternoon air was cold enough to pink her cheeks.
And there was Mr. Dare, loitering beside the railing within view of the staircase as if he’d been waiting for her to emerge. A tiny frisson of pleasure skittered down her spine, accompanied by a damper of guilt.
Thank goodness the voyage ended tomorrow and with it her great pleasure in Mr. Dare’s company. She and Mr. Dare would go their separate ways and she could stop lying awake nights listening to Aunt Kibble and her mother lecture about the dangers of married women spending time with handsome, engaging single men. Aunt Kibble muttered about playing with fire. Her mother reminded her that a respectable lady would rather die a painful lingering death than open herself to the slightest suspicion of impropriety.
“Good afternoon, Miss March.” He removed his hat with a smile. “May I accompany you on your stroll?”
