He checked a grin. "I need to change."
"There's nothing I haven't seen before."
Saucy little--Wait..."You watched me at the falls, didn't you?"
As she did whenever she didn't want to answer a question, she ignored him, flopping onto his bunk and facing the wall. "All right, I won't look."
He hesitated, then rushed through washing and dressing. When he stomped into his boots, she rose, grabbed his captain's log, and sank back into the bunk.
"I didn't give you permission to read that."
She continued flipping through. "Your entries are so precise, so meticulous in the beginning. But after the island, they're less"--she stared at the ceiling, obviously thinking of the word--"exacting! Yes, less exacting and less thorough." Her brows drawn together, she turned the log clockwise. "In fact, some of these entries don't even make sense."
He snatched it from her hands, then tossed it atop a set of high cabinets where she couldn't reach it.
When he turned back, she sat in front of his trunk, her hand diving down among the organized layers of his clothes. Investigating, always investigating. "Are you having difficulty concentrating?" she questioned without turning. "It's because of me, isn't it?"
Arrogant chit. "It's because I'm still bloody exhausted."
Finally, she faced him. "You could be exhausted. That's true. But I like the idea of you unable to stop thinking of me to attend anything else."
She has the right of it. She pulled out a folded shirt, then flipped it over her shoulder, preparing to take it. At least now he knew where they'd been going.
"Just go, Victoria. And leave the shirt."
Her eyes narrowed as she stood. "I'm going to make you like me. That's what I'm going to do. Like me so much you can't bear it." With that, she sashayed out the door, shirt over her shoulder--a picture of perfect assurance, readying for a battle she'd already won.
What is happening to me? Tori wondered, unnerved by her feelings. Just now, the urge to press her cheek to Sutherland's wet chest, to turn her lips to him, had been nearly overwhelming. How could he have become even more attractive to her? Tori hadn't thought there was room for escalation there. Though the captain was arrogant and infuriating, she'd ached to touch him. She wanted to know why he was so grave, so somber. She wanted to smooth the line between his brows.
She shook her head sharply, then found her accustomed seat on deck, sitting dazed for several moments. When he'd looked at her this morning, when his eyes met hers, she'd seen something more in him. Certainly she saw want. Even she could recognize that. But he'd also looked lost....
A sharp snap of fingers an inch from her forehead yanked her from her thoughts. Apparently, Ian was finally joining her.
He opened a deck of cards for a game of German whist for two. "I take it you and my cousin are getting on well?" he commented dryly.
She felt her skin flush. What was happening to her?
As he dealt their hands, she changed the subject. "Cammy told me a few days ago that your heart's taken. So why aren't you with her?"
He exhaled loudly as he fanned and sorted his hand. "I needed to get out of town in a hurry, and thought Grant was only going to America or something. Not the bloody South Pacific."
"You're not serious! You've been trapped on this ship?"
He nodded. "But maybe all this is for the best," he said, more to himself. "I'm only twenty-six--I didn't need to settle down so soon."
Tori folded her cards and clapped happily. "You were thinking of getting married?"
"Well, when you meet the one--"
"What does Grant think about this?" Tori wondered.
"He doesn't know. Not a lot of people do. He'd lecture me on how unfit I am to be a husband and take on the responsibility of a family."
"What's her name?"
"Erica," he murmured with a wistful smile.
Tori chuckled at his obvious infatuation. "Do you think she'll have sent word to you? Perhaps when we stop in port, you could see if she's written. I bet she was heartbroken that you had to leave so fast."
He shrugged.
"Is she waiting for you in London?"
He drew a card and strove to say nonchalantly, "I don't know that she'd wait this long."
"Oh, Ian, you underestimate yourself--"
"I'm not entirely sure she knows what happened to me," he admitted, his face tight. "If she hasn't gotten my letters, then she most likely will think I disappeared. Or worse."
"Or worse?"
Raw pain flashed in his eyes. "That I left her."
Tori sucked in a breath. "She might not know? She'll be sick with worry."
"Worry? Or would any woman who knew my reputation just assume I'd run off?"
He had a point, but he looked so stricken that she said, "When you get home, you'll have to make it up to her."
Ian nodded absently. "I just want to be with her. Do you understand what I mean?" He looked out at the ocean. "I just want to be near her."
As it did a thousand times a day, Tori's gaze rested on the captain.
Thirteen
Since the beginning of the voyage, Grant had extended invitations to dinner to his passengers, as was his duty as captain. Victoria and Miss Scott always declined. Ian never missed a dinner. Today, Victoria was the only one who accepted.
Grant waited for Victoria to visit Miss Scott, then approached Ian on the deck. "Any reason you're not attending?"
"I would like to--hate to miss it--but I'm exhausted."
"From what?" Grant asked incredulously.
"Entertaining," he said smoothly. When Grant stalked off, Ian called, "And by the way, I heard Victoria say she would dearly love a bath."
Without turning, Grant held up his hand, indicating that Ian should shut up. Yet when the seas calmed by midafternoon, Grant called Dooley to the bridge and, like a fool, said, "Will you set up a bath for Lady Victoria?"
"A hip bath?" Dooley asked.
Grant resisted the urge to run his hand over the back of his neck. "No. Full."
Dooley raised his brows. "With fresh water, sir?"
When he nodded, Dooley rushed to fill the order. Grant almost called him back. Why was he giving her an extravagance? Because she wants it, was his alarming answer.
Oddly nervous throughout the day, Grant was relieved when the hour finally arrived. He stood when she appeared at the table, and his breath whistled out. She was exquisite. A vision dressed in jade silk with her shiny hair braided atop her head. She smiled up at him when he seated her. Christ, he liked it when she smiled at him like that.
When they began dinner, he was surprised to see she knew exactly which utensil to use and when. But the way she used them...The tines clanged loudly against the china with each attempt. She would knife much too hard against butter as though she'd forgotten its consistency.
She could have learned everything, but without the tools to practice, the knowledge diminished. She adjusted to soften the sounds, but then the food would slide off the fork. He frowned, thinking of how much could be forgotten. It was like knowing archery, but being out of practice shooting an arrow. Targets were bound to be missed.
When she glanced up and found him watching her, she colored and pushed her plate away, though she was obviously very hungry. She was always hungry, especially for new foods, yet tonight she drank copious amounts of wine instead.
After a crewman cleared the dishes away, and pained silence stretched between them, Victoria said, "Your crew is wonderful."
He nodded, knowing he had a choice crew.
"Some of them I have to avoid, but only because they'll talk my ear off about their children."
When he nodded again, but added nothing, she tried several times to start a conversation to fill the quiet: "What's your favorite season in England?" "Do you have a dog?" "Do you like to play cards?" "What's your favorite number?"