Iris Johansen - The Beloved Scoundrel

“Good God, a chaperon?”

“Of course, and then we can all live in peace and tranquillity.” He shot him a sly look. “And your sudden virtue will redeem you in the eyes of the dowagers at Bath.”

“I would have to become a monk to accomplish that feat.”

“It is true they consider you lost to sin, but anything is possible.” The captain was coming down the steps from the bridge, and Gregor said quickly, “It is only a small thing. It will do you no harm to protect the girl.”

“What if she doesn’t want to be protected?”

“She will accede to anything for the sake of the boy.”

That was true enough. The girl had demonstrated she would walk through fire to safeguard Alex. “I still don’t like it.”

“I know,” Gregor said. “And I think it is not because it will make you a favorite among the dowagers. You do not want her protected. Why?”

“She’s a hostage of war.” He smiled cynically. “It’s going to be difficult enough winning what I want from her. Why should I let you strengthen her position when I prefer her vulnerable?”

Gregor’s gaze searched his face, and then he slowly shook his head. “I do not think that is the complete reason. You may want her weak and vulnerable, but-”

“I didn’t say weak,” Jordan said sharply.

“No, that would be a blasphemy in one so strong and bold,” Gregor murmured. “Ah, and you admire strength. It attracts you like a glowing fire. Perhaps you want to-”

“I want you to stop making surmises that have no basis in fact.” Jordan turned and walked toward the captain.

“I will see you tomorrow morning at breakfast,” Gregor called after him, and then added even more loudly, “I must take these packages to your poor wards.”

He had made sure the captain heard his words, Jordan thought with annoyance. Whether he liked it or not, Gregor was trying to make sure his dove was settled safely in the niche he had placed her.

The sun shone on the water, turning it a silvery blue so brilliant, it hurt Marianna’s eyes to view it.

“Good morning. I hope you slept well.”

Marianna turned to see Jordan Draken walking toward her. He was dressed in severe black and white, a stark contrast against the blue of the sea. “Well enough.” She paused before adding deliberately, “Your Grace.”

He smiled. “There’s little enough grace in the way you say that. I think you must call me Jordan instead.”

“I wouldn’t think of it, Your Grace.”

He studied her. “You’re more annoyed with me than usual. I didn’t think it possible.” He leaned one elbow on the rail. “Why?”

“I have no liking for dukes.”

“A natural enough reason. In your place I would feel the same. But I assure you I am no Duke of Nebrov.”

“You are not in my place. You cannot know how I feel.” She added fiercely, “And how do I know you’re not the same? You want what he wants.”

“What is that?”

“Power. Do you deny it?”

“Yes, I already have more than enough power to suit me.” He saw the flicker of expression on her face. “That’s what you fear, isn’t it? You think I’ll use my power to make you give me the Jedalar.”

“I’m not afraid.” She met his skeptical gaze and said, “And of course you will use any weapon you have. Mama told me there would come a time when everyone would do whatever they had to do to claim it. She said that unless I-”

“What?” he asked after she broke off.

“Never mind. It’s of no consequence.”

His gaze narrowed on her face. “I believe it may be of the utmost consequence.”

She tried to distract him from that slip of the tongue. “She was right, wasn’t she? There’s nothing you wouldn’t do to get it.”

He nodded wearily. “Yes, she was right.” He changed the subject. “Where’s Alex?”

“Gregor took him to meet the captain.”

“Have you both had your breakfast?”

“Yes.”

He smiled mockingly. “You see how concerned I’m being? The perfect guardian of innocent children.”

“I told Gregor it was a ridiculous idea. You have none of the qualities of a guardian.”

“I agree, but Gregor is adamant. So it seems we must all comply.”

“Why?” she asked with sudden curiosity. “What is Gregor to you?”

“My friend.”

“He says he takes care of you.”

“He did at one time. But then, Gregor takes care of everyone. It’s his nature.” He looked out to sea and asked suddenly, “Do you play chess?”

She looked at him in bewilderment. “Yes, I used to play with my father.”

“And are you adequate at the game?”

“No, I’m not adequate. I’m very good.”

He laughed, his face alight with amusement. “My apologies. I meant no insult. It’s my curse that I cannot bear to play with novices.”

“I’m not a novice. After the first year of play I bested Papa all the time.”

“Let us hope I’m better than Papa.”

“You wish me to play chess with you?”

“It will while away the time. It will take us weeks to get to England, and sea voyages can be stultifying.”

“Then play with Gregor.”

“Gregor refuses to learn the game. He gets too restless.”

“I’d think you would suffer the same malady.”

“On the contrary, I can be very patient-if the prize is worth the game.” He said softly, “And I think you would be an excellent opponent. You have a single-mindedness that bodes well for the match.”

“I have no time for games. I have to take care of Alex.”

“Ah, yes, your duty to the men of your family. I believe Gregor would be willing to watch over the child.” He shifted his gaze to her face. “Doesn’t the idea appeal to you? Think of it. You have a chance of humiliating me over the board and seeking out every weakness.”