Chapter Twenty
“So,” Michael said cheerfully as the last strawberry disappeared from his plate, “is this how it’s always going to be between us?”
Phylis smirked from the opposite side of the table, then shrugged nonchalantly, as though she had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. “What do you mean?”
“You stealing my strawberries from my plate,” he clarified, trying not to chuckle as he saw her mock-outraged face.
“Your strawberries? I think you’ll find that you promised me the world last night,” she said, a wicked smile curling her lips. “I remember it most definitely. You were lying on your back, utterly naked—”
“Yes, thank you,” Michael said hurriedly, heat pinking his face even though they were the last two at the table and therefore thankfully had no audience.
His lover’s giggles filled the room and could not help but make him smile too.
“Well, there you are, then,” said Phylis finally, throwing back her fiery-red curls. “If you are happy to give me the world, then a few strawberries won’t make much difference.”
Their laughter filled the dining room, and Michael could hardly believe that a week ago, they had been apart—perhaps never to be reunited again.
Even at this short distance, he could hardly believe it. Why on earth would he risk, even for a second, the opportunity to be with Captain Phylis Seaton for the rest of his life?
He had been a fool. Worse, he had known himself to be a fool and yet he had still walked away for a moment from the most beautiful, most intelligent, most brilliant woman he had ever met.
Dear God, to think he could never have seen her face again.
Phylis’s smile faded, or at least became a tad less certain. “What are you looking at?”
“You,” Michael said easily, leaning back in his chair.
“You filthy bilge rat,” she said conversationally. “You always were a charmer.”
“I think there are certain members of my family who would disagree with you there,” he retorted, trying not to think what the responses were going to be when he eventually wrote to them. “But then I guess as they don’t know I left London—”
“You—You did not tell them?”
For some inexplicable reason, Phylis was staring at him over her wineglass with something akin to horror in her eyes.
Michael swallowed. “Well…no.”
There had not really been time. The moment he had gained his father’s blessing to race after the woman who had entirely stolen his heart, Michael had not thought about details such as leaving notes or giving explanations.
He’d known if he was going to sneak aboard, he’d have to do so early—twelve hours before he’d been discovered, in the end.
Though sod’s law, he had run into his sister Gwen in the hallway and shouted something about leaving forever.
Now that he came to think about it, that might have confused matters.
“Well, they know about my plans to immigrate. They figured it out months ago—though now that I think back, I never asked how.”
“Oh,” said Phylis softly. “But they don’t know you left?”
“There wasn’t time to worry about that. To plan. I had to catch you before you left.”
She rolled her eyes. “It must have made for a very uncomfortable night. You’re lucky you didn’t come down with a cold.”
“I used that old sack I found as a blanket,” he explained, not for the first time.
It had been very itchy. “It’s possible my parents will think I am staying with my cousin Percy,” Michael said aloud, bracingly and in all hope that they worked it out between them.
“He and my cousin Benjamin, they’re… Well, I suppose they’re like the brothers I never had.
Whenever I venture off, I’m usually staying with one of them.
Though I guess…they likely would have written them and asked if I was with them by now. ”
“So, despite finally talking about immigrating, you did not actually tell them where you were going?” asked Phylis in a half-stunned tone that made Michael shifted awkwardly in his chair.
“Well…no,” he said with a shrug. “I was too busy thinking about you.”
That was evidently the correct answer, for Phylis’s frown melted into a smile that could have removed all his clothes from his body, if Michael thought he was likely to entice her to remove her own.
As it was, they had ravished one another in the captain’s quarters an hour ago, and he had brought her to a bone-achingly loud ecstasy here at the table before the first course had been served.
Surely, she wasn’t ready quite yet for a third round…
“You are incorrigible,” Phylis said with a shake of her head, placing her empty wineglass on the table.
Michael lifted the bottle of red and began filling it. “Perhaps. But I love you.”
It was the way her cheeks pinked as he said it that was one of the many reasons why he kept saying it. To see the reaction in his lover’s face, to know she relished being adored…how could a man hold himself back?
“Well, I can’t imagine the sort of reception you’re going to get when you eventually turn back up in London,” Phylis said dryly, sipping her wine with an odd expression. “Have you thought about it? Going back?”
Michael cleared his throat and said nothing.
Well, yes, he had. He had thought about never going back at all.
He had thought about writing and asking them to meet him on the Continent—something his mother would probably adore, and his father probably dislike.
He had thought about going back alone, though the idea of returning to England without Phylis at his side made his stomach twist.
“We will have to talk about it at some point, you know,” Phylis said quietly, evidently able to read the plethora of thoughts in his face. “What your future is. What our future is.”
‘Our future.’
That was the only future that mattered to Michael. A future that encapsulated the two of them together. The conception of a future where they were apart was absolutely nonsensical.
The trouble was, of course, that Michael had never had to think of a future in his life that didn’t include the words ‘viscountcy’ and ‘responsibility,’ and the one time he had attempted to think of a future of his own, the only word he had been able to consider was ‘immigrate.’
He would be the first person to put his hand up and admit he wasn’t a particularly good thinker.
“First of all,” Phylis said, a smartness appearing in her voice that told Michael she had shifted, perhaps even unconsciously, into captain mode, “we need to consider what we are to each other.”
Michael had just put down his wineglass, which was a relief, for it certainly would have slipped from his hands if not and smashed all over this delightfully lovely table.
What they were to each other?
Why the hell did that need to be discussed? Surely, they were… After all, wasn’t it obvious?
They loved each other. They would be together, forever, committed to each other and no one else.
Wasn’t it clear what should come next?
“Now, I am perfectly happy to stay as we are,” Phylis was saying quietly, not quite meeting his eye. “After all, I have gone by the name Mrs. Seaton for a few years now, and most people I encounter know me as Captain Seaton, anyway, so that doesn’t matter.”
Michael could do nothing but blink. What on earth is she talking about?
“And you are under no obligation—I mean, we never discussed—and you don’t have to…”
Slow, dawning comprehension was starting to appear on the horizon, but Michael could hardly believe what he was inferring. Surely, she didn’t think…
“—because I have always managed on my own, and it’s my ship, so after all—”
“Phylis Seaton,” Michael said slowly, cutting across her flurry of words with his slow intonation. “You do know I am going to marry you, don’t you?”
Based on the flushed pink cheeks and astonished widening of her eyes, she had not. “But you don’t have to.”
“‘Have to’? ‘Have to’?” It was all he could do not to laugh in disbelief. “You old sea dog, I would be the most fortunate man in the world with you by my side—but surely, you know that!”
Even as Michael said the words, his mind was frantically scrambling back through their conversations over the last four days.
Yes, they had talked about how much they loved each other, and yes, they had talked about how devoted they were to each other, and yes, they had ravished one another at least twice a day, if not more, each time more spectacular than the last…
Well, damn. How had he never mentioned marriage?
Rising swiftly to his feet, Michael immediately stepped around the table and dropped to his knees. “Phylis Seaton—”
“Michael!”
“—you are the most spectacular captain I have ever met,” Michael said earnestly, his heart swelling with all the affection he felt for her.
Phylis raised a sardonic eyebrow. “I’m almost the only captain you have ever met. Pelham would make anyone look good.”
“Look, I’m trying to propose here,” he pointed out, exhaling a laugh as unexpected nerves poured through him. “Do you think you could listen?”
“I suppose so,” she said, her lips curling into a smile of wonder.
Michael took a deep breath as he hesitated.
Well, God and all his saints, he had thought they had agreed this before, though now that he came to think about it, he had never actually said the words.
And words were important, weren’t they? Words stated just how important it was to cling on to each other through the—
Hang on. He should be saying this out loud.
“Phylis,” Michael said quietly, looking up into the green eyes of the woman he loved.
“I want to cling to you in every storm. I want to ride the waves of life with you. No matter where we go, I want you by my side—preferably at the front leading, to be honest, because you are infinitely more qualified than me to do—well, anything.”
She laughed, blinking sparkling eyes that may or may not have been filling with tears.
Michael reached out and took her hands in his as he continued. “Phylis, I adore you. I love everything about you. Your passion, your temper—”
Her brow furrowed. “I do not have a—”
“—and your patience. I mean, if you can teach me how to row like a seasoned sailor—”