When Two Hearts Meet (Brightmore #2)

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter 21

Extract from Oriana Harmony Brightmore's Journal

Oriana Harmony Brightmore's Inventory of Favourable Qualities One Should Expect in One's Husband

Taken from the section noted as Amendments & Additions:

Final Entry: foolishness and love, it seems, go hand in hand. This should be endured.

"You are lying to me."

"Upon my honour, I am not, Ori."

"It is evident that you have very little honour to swear upon if the past several hours were anything to go by."

"If it is my honour that is called into question, then yours should be too, lest I remind you who was the one begging-"

"No need to be crass." Oriana stirred restlessly and propped herself up on her elbows, giving him a glower to emphasis her stance on the matter. The white sheet dipped low over the rise of her backside, allowing Cole the opportunity to admire different angles of her form in the crisp morning light that was filtering into the cabin. Her skin, he thought, was flawless- creamy alabaster. He only just resisted the urge to run his hands over the curvature of her back. "I simply do not believe you," she said pertly, nose in the air, hair in disarray.

"Oriana, it is called a poop deck," Cole told her seriously.

Her nose scrunched up adorably. "You must be misinformed."

"I have been at sea for twenty years!" he said incredulously. "Yet you believe I am the one who is misinformed."

"But I can hardly imagine you outright saying this in your conversation with another crew member, can I?" She made a vague moue with her hand, a glimpse of her cleavage being revealed to him on tantalising display. He was on his side beside her as she sidled down into the mattress while they spoke, affording him the perfect view of her animated countenance and more desirable attributes. She was, he thought, simply perfect after hours of lovemaking. There was a pinkish glow to her cheeks, an altogether different light in her eyes, and her lips were swollen from being well and truly plundered with kisses. "Do you honestly mean to tell me that you these words leave your lips: 'Mr Smith, will you not please adjoin to the poop deck?'"

"But they do." Cole chuckled. "It is an observation deck, Oriana. Most of the work and overseeing of tasks takes place there. It is hardly as absurd as you are making it out to be."

She made a disparaging sound, and then a smile curled the corners of her lips up. "Obviously, a man came up with the naming of different parts of a ship. No woman would ever conceive of such ridiculousness."

He rolled his eyes and flopped onto his back. They had been talking for most of the night, neither of them sleeping. Mostly, amid another bout of lovemaking, Oriana had pressed and prodded him for details about his life at sea. Her mind was a curious well, eager to learn more and adsorb all that she could about his world.

It was a couple hours past dawn and soon they would be close enough to England's shore to make use of the rowboats, and their closeness would come to an abrupt end, rules governing their behaviour firmly back in place. He wasn't looking forward to it while he had spent the last hours revelling in her unabashed openness with him. Though he was still somewhat furious at her foolish actions following him here, it was more directly at the possibility that she had done irreparable damage to her safety and reputation. No, Cole mused silently, he didn't mind in the least that his final voyage had been turned on its head.