Regency: Innocents & Intrigues. Helen Dickson

all right now. You must think I’m very foolish.’

      ‘No, Maria. To be afraid is nothing to be ashamed of. It often takes courage to admit it.’

      Charles was not immune to the unresisting woman he had held close. He was a virile man, a very masculine man, who was accustomed to the women in his arms allowing him whatever he asked of them. He was well used to the lusting pleasures that were always available to him. He had not, until he’d kissed Maria, held a woman in his arms who was not only young but innocent. Not until she had met him had she encountered the closeness, the intimacy and power of a man’s body close to her own, of desire that inflamed the flesh and confused all coherent thought.

      The vessel slipped slowly out of the harbour and bounded forwards running into the Channel. On a word from Jaques, those below were told it was safe to come up on deck.

      Clinging on to the rail next to Charles and with Jaques at the helm, as the vessel rolled on the swell already making itself felt in a choppy sea, the waves capped with curls of foam, Maria was filled with confusion. She could not understand herself. She realised that Charles was becoming very dear to her, but how could this be when she didn’t really know him? Just a few moments ago, if he had made the slightest movement towards her she would have been in his arms.

      Breathing deeply of the night air she looked back at the receding French coast shrouded in early morning mist. The wind was getting stronger, causing the sail to crack and the little vessel to lurch alarmingly.

      ‘We’re running right into a storm,’ Maria gasped fearfully.

      ‘This isn’t a storm.’ Jaques laughed, his voice booming over the noise of the wind. ‘If you saw a real storm, you’d never forget it.’

      ‘Get back from the rail,’ Charles ordered, taking her arm and almost dragging her away. ‘I’d hate to see you tossed overboard. I’d be forced to jump in to rescue you.’

      ‘And I would expect nothing less,’ she laughed, glad to be out of the claustrophobic confines of the cabin and the threat of being in such close proximity to him always posed to her susceptible heart.

      ‘Are you all right?’ he shouted above the wind.

      She nodded. ‘Yes. I am now. Don’t worry about me. I’m going home and that’s all that counts.’

      Drawing her cloak tightly about her, she looked up at Charles, at his profile etched against the lightening sky. Indomitable pride was chiselled into his handsome face, determination in the arrogant cut of his jaw, intelligence and hard-bitten strength etched into every feature of his face. There was an aloof strength, a powerful charisma about him that had nothing to do with his tall, strong-shouldered physique or that mocking smile of his. There was something else, a feeling she got that he had done and seen all there was to do and see, and that all those experiences were locked away behind an unbreachable wall of charm, a handsome face, and piercing light blue eyes. Beyond any woman’s reach.

      Daylight had broken as the boat gently nosed its way towards the English coastline. It was a sight Maria would never forget. The boat was rolling gently now, the wind having dropped mid-channel. Gradually the land came more clearly into view, with its white cliffs and the castle overlooking the harbour. What a relief it was to see England again.

      Ever since she had left she had wished to return. Now there was no need to wish any longer. At that moment she saw the sun rise in a ball of crimson on the horizon—just like an omen, she thought, marking the start of a new life, a happy life. Would Henry be a part of it?

      Before Charles had arrived at Chateau Feroc she had had her doubts about marrying Henry, and now, after the short time she had spent alone with Charles and the sensations he had awakened inside her, sensations and womanly desires far different from anything she had ever experienced before, as arduous as the task promised to be, she saw no help for it. Already the decision was beginning to form in her mind that she would have to tell Henry she would not marry him.