Page 15 of Lady Tempts a Rogue
Trinity swept him a sideways glance from beneath the dark fringe of lashes framing her pale blue eyes. Tied back by a pink ribbon, her wealth of shiny hair hung down her back.
Devin curled his free hand into a ball against the urge to tangle his fingers, or his face, in the satiny curtain.
The pretty pink calico gown she wore, covered with a woolen cherry-toned spencer, edged in matching braid and fastened down the front, suited her far better than the insipid slate affair she’d worn the previous three days.
In short, she was utterly fetching and a welcome breath of fresh air in his stale cabin.
Devin did not miss how her curious gaze skidded over his chest and shoulders, then followed the trail of dark, curly hair to his waistband. A healthy, virile male, he could not help the primal satisfaction that sluiced through him at her covert feminine inspection.
Nevertheless, he snatched a towel and draped it around his shoulders. It was wholly inadequate, but he could not pull his clean shirt over his lathered face. He lifted the razor.
“I shall try the gruel when I have finished shaving. I do not want to overtask my stomach just yet.”
Nodding, she edged toward the door.
“Where is Mrs. Peagilly?” he asked, reluctant to have Trinity leave so soon, despite the impropriety of her staying.
For decorum’s sake, the widow had always accompanied Miss Ablethorne to his cabin.
“The poor dear awoke with a megrim. Mrs. Peagilly says they are rare for her, but they leave her bedridden until they pass. She says something to do with the atmospheric pressure brought the vile thing on.”
Devin gave her a side-eyed glance. “You have not been her companion for a long while?”
Trinity shook her head.
“Only a week. I was a traveling companion to a dear woman for several years. When the opportunity arose to travel again, I applied for the position. This is our first voyage together. We shan’t return to England for over a year. Mrs. Peagilly has our itinerary planned. Quite honestly, I am not sure where we are going or who our contacts are.”
She gave a little self-conscious laugh.
“Ah, I see. And you enjoy traveling to all sorts of new places? Do you not miss your family?”
“I do enjoy traveling, and I am an orphan.” She quirked her brow and gave that little shrug he had come to know as hers. “I think myself fortunate, and I am grateful. There are far fewer desirable positions for a young woman.”
She stopped, appearing a trifle chagrined at speaking so freely.
How extraordinary.
Orphaned with no family, compelled to work for her existence, and she believed herself fortunate? Miss Trinity Ablethorne was quite the most intriguing woman he’d ever met.
Biting her lower lip, Trinity shot a glance behind her into the vacant passageway. “I must return to Mrs. Peagilly. She looked most unwell. Feeble even. I confess, I am quite worried about her. I suggested the ship’s surgeon see her, but she scoffed at my concern.”
“You have missed your calling, Miss Ablethorne. You have a propensity for nursing.”
Shaking her head, she wrinkled her nose. “I thank you for your kind words and confidence, but nursing is not my calling. I do not mind tending to someone who is ill, but I cannot abide the sight of blood, gashes, or other wounds. I fear I might swoon, and I heartily despise female theatrics.”
“As do I.”
A woman possessing common sense and lacking artifice?
Would wonders never cease?
Lifting an eyebrow, Devin gave her a cocky grin before turning his attention to the small mirror.
“Swoon?” He paused in scraping the razor across his jaw to view her in the mirror. “I have not known you long, Miss Ablethorne, but you do not strike me as the sort of young lady who faints.”
“True, I have not as yet.” Ah, there it is. “And I do pride myself on being stoic.” Head canted, she fiddled with the braid at her cuff, then shrugged. “But everyone has their weaknesses and flaws. Yes?”
“Indeed.”
