The Bride Ship. Regina Scott
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How silly! She wasn’t a debutante meeting the mighty Clay Howard for the first time. She squared her shoulders and marched toward him.
He met her halfway. “Good morning, Allegra,” he said with a nod of welcome. “How did you and Gillian fare your first night aboard?”
One of the older women nearby cast them a look with raised brows. She couldn’t know their past history and family connections gave him the right to use her first name.
“Tolerably well, Mr. Howard,” Allie said, making sure to use his last name. She took his arm and drew him a little farther away from the others toward the deck chairs that rested along the wall of the first-class quarters. “And you? Ms. O’Rourke wondered whether you had all you needed.”
She couldn’t confess that she’d wondered, too, but he didn’t question her. Instead, his smile deepened, showing a dimple along the right side of his mouth. “Give her my thanks, but tell her not to worry. I’m set up fairly well. I’m bunking with Mr. Conant, a reporter from the Times, and he was kind enough to offer me the lower bunk so I can stick out my feet. And Ms. Stevens and the widow Hennessy provided me with sheets and blankets when they heard I had none.”
She should be relieved that he had been so well supported. Yet some part of her was disappointed she hadn’t been the one to make sure he was comfortable.
“Well, then,” she said, removing her hand from his arm. “It seems you have no further need of us. Answer me one question, if you will, and I’ll leave you to your promenade.”
He cocked his head. The breeze pulled free a strand of red-gold hair, and she had to fight the impulse to smooth it back from his face. “And what question would that be?” he asked with a smile, as if confident of his ability to answer it.
“Why did you join us on this trip? You can’t have been planning on spending three or more months at sea.”
“No, indeed,” he said with a chuckle. “But make no mistake, Allegra. I joined the company of the Continental because of you.”
There went her stomach fluttering again. “Because of me, sir?” Her question sounded breathless, and she cleared her throat.
“You and Gillian,” he clarified. “It’s a long way with more dangers than you can know. Someone has to protect you.”
Oh, but he was impossible! “Did it never dawn on you, sir, that I might be able to protect myself?”
His shrug did nothing to stem the rise of her frustration.
She stepped back from him. “I will have you know that I’m fairly self-sufficient. Should you need our help on this trip, you can find Gillian and me in stateroom thirty-five, on the port side of the lower salon. We’d be more than glad to protect you.”
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