His Californian Countess by Kate Welsh Page B

from physical need. She couldn’t forget the man she’d come to know when he’d been at his most vulnerable. A good man when delirious was the same fully aware.
    She still didn’t know what to do about it all. Doing nothing had seemed the best course. She’d clearly been wrong. “I don’t know what to do.”
    “Do you want to go on punishing us both for a situation not entirely of our own creation?”
    Was she doing that? She honestly wasn’t sure, but wouldn’t admit that. “I am not trying to punish you or myself. That would be foolish. May we just take it a day at a time?”
    He tilted his head as if considering her request, thenhe smiled, and her heart skipped several beats. “As long as tomorrow is one of those days,” he said, the moon and wind in his hair making it shine almost as much as the light from within that she always saw sparkling in his striking violet eyes.
    She nodded.
    “Then may I walk you to your cabin, my lady?”
    Again she nodded and he took her hand, placing it tenderly on his forearm and covering it with his own hand. “I worry about you topside all alone,” he said, bending his head to hers. “Please don’t come up here this way. Tap on my door any time you feel the need to take air. I’ll be available.”
    They’d reached her door and her heart began to hammer again. Would he try to kiss her? More important—did she wish him to?
    Amber looked up and could see it was what he wanted, but after a protracted moment, he let her hand go. “I’ll see you in the morning then. Sweet dreams, Pixie.” Then he turned away, but not before she saw the longing in his gaze. She went in and leaned against the door, a bit sorry he’d shown such restraint.
     
    Amber walked hesitantly to the door to answer the knock she’d awaited with equal parts dread and anticipation. Stop it! He’s just a man. The admonition did no good. She’d been telling herself the same thing for days—and nights.
    Because he wasn’t just a man. He was her man.
    Or at least he could be.
    All she had to do was let go of the hurt. Let go of her fear. Fear of losing him. Pushing him away had seemed safer.
    She’d agreed to spend time with him, though she wasn’t yet sure if she dare open her heart to the possibilities time with him opened to her.
    The knock came again. It sounded a bit more impatient this time. She smiled, hopeful. Restrained restlessness was so very Jamie, whereas the starchy manners and slightly imperious requests were all lord of the realm. Now to discover which man stood at her door.
    She opened it and caught him just about to knock again. “Goodness, you must be starving,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Do they often run out of food even this early?”
    “It isn’t missing the breakfast I’m worried about, but the company I feared missing out on. And that I have missed.”
    What drivel. “I don’t see how you could miss me when you only met me on this misbegotten voyage.”
    “Haven’t you ever missed what you’ve never had? I greatly missed having a mother, though I don’t remember mine. I had a nanny who was like a mother, but she didn’t have the power of a real mother.”
    “And that nanny was Mimm?” she asked, remembering the name from the time of his illness.
    He nodded. “And in that same manner it’s all the possibilities of you I’m impatient for.”
    It was definitely Jamie awaiting her company. Relieved, she smiled. “Suppose we just begin with the meal? The rest is overwhelming to me at this hour.”
    “Then let us retire to the dining saloon and see what the cook has prepared.” He reached out a hand.
    She took it and they walked in silence toward the dining saloon along the outside deck. The closer she gotthe more apprehensive she grew. The scent of frying bacon wafting into the small hallway didn’t help. “Actually, the meal itself is a bit much this early,” she told him, not at all ready to face eating, especially with witnesses to their first