Page 54 of Across the Star-Kissed Sea (Proper Romance Regency #1)
Nine months later
May
E lias sighed that slow, resigned sound that signaled he knew he needed to rise for the day.
Without opening my eyes, I rolled toward him and buried my toes under his calf.
Never mind that it was August and the humid island air foretold a hot day ahead.
My toes had never recovered from the cold damp of living on a ship.
I hugged his arm under the thin blanket and nuzzled my head against his shoulder.
He’d never be able to resist, and I’d get a few more moments with him before he left to perform his duties on the Marianne .
“You remember we’re leaving this morning,” he said softly.
I groaned, hugging his arm tighter. Those stupid patrols.
I should be grateful. Most women married to men of the navy rarely got to see their husbands in times of war.
I had to let mine go frequently, but I always knew he’d be back in days or weeks rather than years.
That didn’t make me enjoy the many goodbyes, however.
I loosened my grip on his arm and pulled my toes back.
He chuckled softly. His weight shifted on the bed, and I finally opened my eyes to watch him stand and stretch.
The summer sun had already risen enough to shoot a few bright rays into the attic room we shared on the topmost floor of the Peytons’ rented house.
The open windows let in the sound of birds trilling their morning tunes and carts rolling along the streets below on their way to pick up the morning catch from the harbor.
Elias pulled the curtains closed, and they danced lightly in the breeze.
Even in the dimmer light, I could make out the lean lines of his chest through the open neckline of his nightshirt.
I didn’t know if I’d ever grow tired of seeing him in the morning, his hair mussed and eyes blinking sleepily as they adjusted to the light.
He opened his trunk and pursed his lips as he silently debated which pair of breeches and waistcoat he’d wear that day.
I pushed myself up on one elbow to watch.
He chose so carefully each morning. I’d laughed at this ritual the first few weeks of our marriage, as he’d even done it the first day when we’d stayed at the inn on Malta, but eight months later, I appreciated the moment to watch him without his notice.
Sometimes I hardly thought myself a good match for him in both looks and fashion, but he always protested without hesitation whenever I mentioned it.
He was a good man. I hoped to deserve him one day. The congratulatory letter we’d received last week from my father in Port Jackson had said the opposite, that he hoped my chosen was worthy of me. Little did he know how it really stood.
An irritated cry from below announced that I shouldn’t linger in bed. I sat up with a yawn.
“You don’t have to get up,” Elias said, pulling on his breeches.
“I should help Georgana with Alfie. He always knows when his papa is leaving.” I swung my legs out from under the blanket and pulled my shift down over them.
Eight months and I still sometimes felt self-conscious.
Being married took getting used to, even when you shared a room.
Many, perhaps most, couples in Elias’s ring of Society didn’t.
While it would be nice to have the space, I secretly hoped that whatever little vicarage was in our future after the wars ended would not have enough space to warrant separate rooms. I’d grown to appreciate his calming presence through the night long before we’d married.
Instead of going to my trunk for clothes, I scurried toward him and slipped my arms around his waist, interrupting his task. The soft linen of his shirt was cool from the slight morning breeze. “Must you go?”
He laughed, embracing me and kissing the top of my head. “I wish I didn’t have to.”
“I hope you don’t run into any Frenchmen, besides étienne.” I always prayed fervently while he was away that they’d return empty--handed. Almost as hard as I prayed for Sanchez’s safety so he could continue to steer the ship as helmsman and allow Elias to stay below.
“We’ll never make our fortune if we don’t take prizes,” Elias said.
I leaned my head against his chest, listening to the reassuring beat of his heart and relishing the warmth of his skin. “I don’t care about prizes. Just your safety.”
“I have a feeling you’ll care a little more when we get back to England.”
I let him get back to readying for his departure and reluctantly pulled out my stays. Someday, I’d wish for the return of these early months, when so few things bogged down our thoughts. I tried to remember to relish them, even if Elias had to leave so frequently.
Before I could finish lacing, Elias caught my hand and pulled me back into his arms. He’d put his ensemble together quickly and only needed a particularly fine straw hat to complete his dandy look.
We’d have to wait to return to Malta, or even England, before he could get another. “I love you, May Doswell.”
How I loved the sound of that name. “Aren’t you glad I ended up not being who you imagined I was a year ago?”
I thought he’d laugh, but instead, he kissed me long and slow. “I’m simply glad the girl who walked up the gangway was you.”
And as he kissed me again, I had to admit I was very glad of that too.