A Touch of Passion by Bronwen Evans Page B

she’d have been tempted to seek a liaison with the sexy devil. The rumors of Grayson’s bed skills were legendary, as was his weakness for a voluptuous bosom and a pretty face, both of which she possessed.
    She had until they reached England to make him see her as a woman who could add to his enjoyment of life, not ruin it. A vibrant, desirable woman who would bring back his joy for living, make his existence fun and interesting. The Grayson from before the war was a man she knew could come to love her. The war and the horrors he experienced had sucked all the joy from his life. He’d become so staid and sensible.
    Unless she could make him grow to admire her spontaneity and passion for life, they could never marry. A lifetime of enduring an empty marriage was too long. She hadn’t fought off death at sixteen to end her days a bored and neglected wife. She would not be a wife in name while mistresses shared his bed.
    She needed time to think and plan her first move. If only Rose were here—she would have known how to proceed. Rose would simply grab the bull by the horns … or by another body part.
    With sudden inspiration, she decided there was no time like the present. She stepped closer and rose up on her toes. With a deep breath she pressed her lips confidently to his, her hands seeking the lapels of his jacket. She probed his lips with her tongue until she gained access to his hot mouth. Her tongue explored provocatively.
    She heard his low groan, and her hands spread over the hard muscles of his chest, feeling his heart pound while she registered, absorbed, and explored the sensuality of his mouth. The way he tasted was addictive.
    To her disappointment, he didn’t return the kiss, but he did respond—his groan had been audible and she could sense him holding back. She could all but feel the battle he waged to keep his emotions in check. He kept a distance between their bodies, and his fists were clenched at his sides as if he was trying not to pull her into his arms.
    With a heavy heart she realized one kiss was not going to do it. With a sigh she drew back and forced her breathing to become even.
    “What on earth was that for?”
    She raised a haughty eyebrow. “I would have thought it obvious. If you can’t even kiss me, you’re hardly likely to be able to bed me. I cannot speak for you, but if and when I marry, I’d at least want my husband to want to bed me.”
    He frowned down at her as her eyes searched his. “We are not married yet. And never fear—I will bed you.” At her slow curving smile he added, “I want children,” and her smile disappeared.
    “Ooohh, you, you …” With that she spun on her heel. With a sway to her hips and head held high, she walked down the companionway.
    Grayson watched her disappear down the steep stairs, leaving him with her taste on his lips. He ran a finger over them, trying to stop the tingling. He’d wanted to wrap his arms around her and deepen the kiss, but that would have led to disaster. If he was to marry Portia, he had to maintain control. Give her an inch and she would see to it that their married life was an emotional whirlwind. He was determined to maintain the upper hand in this relationship, and giving in to Portia Flagstaff, no matter how his body yearned for her, was not an option.
    Grayson spent the afternoon with the captain, going over the route they would take. He needed to get them back to England as fast as they could, while staying safe from further attack. He had no idea what to expect next, and he was determined to be ready for any eventuality. He hoped the scheduled stop at Gibraltar in a few days was not a mistake. It could be a great place to attack the ship.
    Grayson pulled his pocket watch out and checked the time. He was late for dinner, having spent far too long trying without success to figure out who would bear him such a grudge that he would be willing to ruin many lives. When he entered the captain’s stateroom for the meal,