Chapter 19

" P UT ME DOWN," AGATHA shrieked in a knowingly futile attempt. Currently being lugged up the ship over Jude's shoulder was uncomfortable on a number of levels. First, she was being lugged on a man's shoulders as if she were a sack of potatoes. That was the obvious one. Second, though his shoulders were broad and beefy, his rugged march and accompanying jolt with each step bounced her in a way that a lady should never bounce in public. And third, despite all of this, including his rudeness, she was aroused.

His closeness. His ocean scent intermingled with the fragrance from his fresh soap. Her nostrils, of all parts, were the first to jump onboard the Jude ship.

Damn him, but she still wanted to be writhing underneath him seeking her pleasure. Perhaps it was that swat to her bottom that had put her over the edge, but she could feel the wetness between her legs and it wasn't going away.

Once they were aboard, Jude didn't stop until they were alone in his cabin. Tossing her on the bed, he pointed at her and said (as only a captain could say), "Let's get one thing straight. We're not married. You're not my wife. Whatever happened just now won't be legal in Britain." Like an ogre, he held up his palm to cut her off, "And the only reason I didn't argue with you back there was because I didn't need you getting hysterical in front of the vicar. On foreign soil, no less."

Oh, this man. He thought he controlled everything, didn't he? And hysterical? He was worried she would have gone hysterical back in France if he didn't marry her? (Yes, she would have.) But he hadn't seen anything yet. If he thought he could lock her up in his cabin and pretend that their marriage was fake, she was about to show him all the worst kinds of hysterical that he could imagine. And some he would never be able to, no matter how long he lived.

Damn it, she had had about enough of him.

The only problem was…well, him. And she needed time to think. She inhaled deeply and breathed out some of her mounting frustrations. Hysterical sounded amazing, but perhaps she needed her head about her. Needed to make a plan. Needed a clear headspace to scheme without him getting in the way. There was no way to make that happen, enclosed on a ship.

Unless…

Well…

There was one surefire way.

But…

No…

She shouldn't. She really shouldn't. What kind of conniving and controlling-yet-out-of-control hellion would that make her?

Whatever. She didn't care. She couldn't care. It was her life. It wasn't just about him. She had a life to live. Dreams to fulfill. Days to enjoy in wonder and delight. She had to have a life that she was proud of, knowing she had done everything she could do to be her best self. Might as well risk everything because all would be lost in a day anyway, unless she took action and made something happen. Something out of nothing. But she could do it.

And all she had to do was plan her actions. The outcome would be out of her hands.

"Fine. You'll be my husband for a day." She mustered as much dignity as she could clad in a frumpy frock, awkwardly trying to sit up straight without leaning on the headboard yet sinking into the mattress.

Coming closer with that irritating index finger in her face, he growled, "Not even for one day."

"Your loss, then." She made to undo her buttons.

"What are you doing?" His eyes flared in anger…and hunger. Just as she suspected. She knew he wanted her, at least physically. That much was certain. And really, how much of a leap could it be from wanting someone physically to wanting them wholly? She was pretty sure she could sway him. And if she had to use her body to do it, she would. She was willing to do anything at this point to get the life she wanted.

Moving her fingers deftly down a few more buttons, she said, "Im disrobing."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

No answer. He was just spluttering again. Which was almost adorable, except that she was annoyed with him. But she had to admit that for some reason his flustered state gave her hope. Mostly because it seemed to be the most tangible proof that he quite possibly did have deeper feelings for her. All she needed to do was get him to admit them.

"It's not time to sleep."

"What time is it then? "

His eyes darted around. "It's time for tea."

She thought her eyes would nearly pop out of her head at the mention of tea, but come to think of it, she could use a good cup. And so could he. He might be a more willing accomplice in her plan than she could expect. Tea, of all things, though. Of course it would do the trick.

"What are you grinning about?" he demanded. Did the man have any other tones besides angry, irritated, or demanding? Those were his three defaults.

"Nothing. I'm just glad you suggested it. I'll even pour." Since there was no point in redirecting him, she would play along with the offer for tea. As strange as it was, it would work.

"Fine. I'll be back shortly." Grumbling, he quit the room, giving her plenty of time to execute her plan.

A knock sounded.

Odd. Jude obviously wouldn't knock.

Agatha approached the door and pulled it open to find Princess Amalie in the corridor. Looking just as beautiful as before, not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle in her skirts, not a fleck of dirt dress. Priceless. Perfection. Cringe.

"Can we talk?" she asked brightly. Though somewhat fakely.

"Come in." This was not great timing. Agatha had a plan that she needed to execute, and with the princess here, she couldn't do anything that she needed to do. But perhaps if she placated the princess quickly enough then she could escort her out before Jude returned.

"I have to say this quickly. There's no time."

Well now, that was the perfect thing to say. No shooing would be necessary .

"I know we don't know each other, but you're the only one I can trust. Is there any way you can convince the captain not to take me to England?"

Agatha took a step back from the heavy load placed in her hands. "What?" She had so many questions, she wasn't even sure where to begin. "What makes you think I could convince the captain of anything?" Especially something of such magnitude.

"I see how he looks at you. How protective he is of you."

"He doesn't look at me in any particular way." Agatha refuted the claim meanwhile hoping it to be true.

"Oh, but he does. Maybe you can't see it."

"Well, pfft…he's not protective of me." Had she really just pfft at a princess? God, one day on this ship and she had lost all her manners.

"To the contrary. He's quite protective of you. Trust me. I would know."

"You would?"

"Yes. And…well, I just assumed you were together. Is it not true?"

"It's not not true." At Amalie's perplexed stare, Agatha explained, "It's complicated."

"Men always overcomplicate things, don't they?"

"That they do." Agatha found a seat and a smile on her face. Perhaps the princess being a kind person was going to be a good thing. She seemed to have no interest in Jude. And of course her observations of Jude's attention to Agatha had her heart (and ego) inflated. "But even if I could change the course of the ship, why would you want me to do that?"

"My father has arranged a marriage for me, but I'm not in love with that man. If I'm delivered to Dover, my life will be over. I'll be forced to marry a man I do not love. I just need you to convince him to dock in Folkestone, just west of Dover. I've already sent a missive to my lover to meet me there. Please, Agatha. Can you help me?"

"How very interesting. You need my help…" Agatha tapped her fingers against her thigh. "This might just work out perfectly."

And that's when the plan fully formed in her mind. To set everything in motion would be easy. It merely required an accomplice. And she knew the perfect one.

"Yes. I can help you, Amalie." She patted her hand. "If you can help me."