Page 53 of Lady Tempts a Rogue

It simultaneously terrified him and left him giddy as a lad.

Look what had happened to Father.

Yes, but Trinity was not like Devin’s mother in any fashion. She did not care about rank and status. About le beau monde and blue blood. About wealth and power and prestige.

Thank God.

Today, she wore her pretty pink gown again. However, instead of the heavy spencer, she had draped a light shawl about her shoulders and wore a wide-brimmed straw bonnet to protect her face from the unrelenting sun.

She was a breath of fresh air in the stifling heat, and she was his.

Devin had not told her he was falling in love with her.

He was not quite ready to make that confession.

Instead, he savored the knowledge and pondered the wonder of it in his heart. Primal instinct told him she wasn’t ready to hear his declaration yet. He needed to build her trust first.

Trust and love: a solid foundation for a marriage and a future.

Then when he became confident that she felt the same way, they’d consummate the marriage. Celibacy wasn’t new to him, though he had not been a monk. Waiting until Trinity was ready was another method of gaining her trust.

He would wait as long as necessary.

No one suspected they had not completed the act yet. Devin endured the sly winks and crude jokes from the male passengers and crew in his stride. He’d also explained to Trinity that they’d need to share a cabin at night for the rest of the voyage to secure the illusion of intimacy.

An intelligent woman, she had understood the necessity and agreed without a fuss.

At night, when they lay together, arms round one another, and spoke of their pasts and hopes and dreams for a future—those were the hours Devin most cherished and looked forward to.

One of the official-looking men, a tall, thin chap with a wizened face above his kerchief, stopped six feet from Captain Breckett and extended a packet, forcing the captain to stretch his arm to accept the neat bundle.

Most peculiar.

The other gentleman, skin as smooth and dark as molasses, did the same with Mr. Compton, handing him a short stack of letters tied together with a string.

No doubt correspondence for those aboard the ship—crew and passengers alike.

That officer made a smart bow before turning on his booted heels and retreating with great alacrity. The gangway jostled with each precise step he took in his hasty return to the dock.

Compton untied the string and flipped through the top few letters.

A frown skewered his brow before he glanced up and glared at Devin, then shifted his peeved gaze toward Trinity, still enthralled with the port activity.

Presenting his back to the curious onlookers aboard the ship, the other man spoke to Captain Breckett and Mr. Alderton in subdued tones.

Mr. Compton stomped across the deck, his boots clumping loudly with each angry step. He shoved two letters toward Devin.

“These are for you, Everingham.”

He extended another toward Trinity.

“This one is addressed to Mrs. Peagilly. You might find it helpful.” At her hesitation, his features softened. “There is no harm in opening it now.”

“Thank you.” She turned the neatly folded rectangle over but did not crack the coffee-brown wax seal.

Without another word, Compton marched toward the McKinnicks.

Devin expected his correspondence to pertain to his reasons for coming to Morocco. Indeed, the first was from Jalil Dhabi, the overseer of the Chouara Tannery. However, rather than news of the leathery, the contents were short and disturbing.