Silent Surrender by Abigail Barnette Page A

over the empty decanter and there was no possibility of her missing it.
    “You upset.” She wasn’t asking a question, but indicting him.
    He nodded, his gaze never wavering. He prayed that she would ask him why, and then he could tell her the truth, that he didn’t want her to leave, no matter what her father and his solicitor had decided upon.
    But then she asked, “Why,” and he couldn’t make his bravery travel down his arms, and he wouldn’t say it out loud, for fear of being misunderstood.
    So, he settled on a version of the truth that did not make his hands shake. “In the future you leave, I miss you.”
    She nodded, her hand gliding in the vast space between them to say, “Same.”
    Slowly she wandered to the mantle, trailing her hand along the smooth surface. She didn’t face him and he knew it was because she disliked drunkenness, and then he felt even more a fool. So he watched her, watched her bare feet and heard them whisper on the marble hearth. And he realized that without his jacket, without his shoes…he and Honoria were together, alone, as undressed as they ever had been in each other’s company.
    When she turned, tears glazed her eyes. “I want see ocean.”
    “You will,” he signed. “On boat.”
    She nodded, and her small smile was tinged with sadness that broke down all the barriers of propriety in his drunken mind.
    He got to his feet, forcing himself to feel courageous as he crossed to her. Though his stomach nearly turned from his nerves and the brandy, he came up beside her, put out his hand, and when she looked up, he searched her eyes for only a blink before he lowered his head and kissed her.
    Her hands flew up to his shoulders, and for a nauseous moment he feared she would push him away, but her fingers curled under her palms and she sagged against him. She smelled of sweat and sex, and he had the fleeting thought that it should have disgusted him, knowing she’d been with Esau, but it did not. She was in his arms now, her sweet, small body pressed to his, and she was not thinking of the dock worker.
    She moaned against his mouth, her head tipped back, and Jude thought, this is wrong . Did he really want it to be like this, him drunk and clumsy, and her fresh from another man’s bed?
    Carefully he released her, stepping back. “Sorry.”
    He didn’t have to explain further. It was a rejection, and she would not accept any other explanation, even if he gave one. The hurt in her expression was enough, and she nodded quickly and excused herself. He could only watch her go, feeling as hopeless and wounded as she looked.
    * * * * *
    The next morning came with a stab of pain and a weariness Jude could not shake from his bones. But his uneasy sleep had at least clarified his position on the matter. He would speak to Honoria after breakfast, and he would lay the subject of France to rest once and for all.
    Esau already waited at the breakfast table, sipping a cup of tea. “Morning,” he said cheerfully.
    “Good morning.” Jude cleared his throat as he went to the sideboard. “Did you sleep well?”
    “Like a dead man,” Esau said with a noise of profound satisfaction. “She can tire a man out.”
    “That…isn’t something I want to discuss with you.” Jude poured himself a cup of tea and added two lumps of sugar. He stirred deliberately and loudly to fill the silence.
    “My mistake, mate,” Esau said with a cheerful smile. Of course he was cheerful. He had spent the night making love to Honoria, holding her in his arms.
    Jude had run from her, and nothing would cheer him today. Last night had been one golden chance to stand up for what he wanted for himself, and he’d been unable to, crippled by the uncertainty of the future.
    “Do you think…” Esau stopped himself. “Nah.”
    With a pained sigh, Jude asked, “What is it?”
    “I just…” For a man with no apparent shame, Esau flushed a bit as he asked the question. “I was wondering if it would be possible