“Did I say that your skin is softer than …” Patrick couldn’t think what he was going to say. He’d reached a nipple of the palest, sweetest pink. With a silent groan he bent over and pulled it into his mouth.

When he raised his head, his wife was looking at him, her eyes slightly wild, small pants coming from her lips.

“Now,” Patrick said, his voice deep with desire. “Now we have to anatomize the other breast, don’t you think?”

Sophie’s response was fierce and immediate. She reached out and dragged his shoulders up until he was kneeling on the bed, ignoring his laughing protests.

“Wait, wait, O impetuous wife! I just remembered precisely what I said.” His eyes had a wicked twinkle as he pushed her back down on the bed. “You seemed to be curious about my anatomy when I woke up this morning. I simply offered you the chance to satisfy your quest for knowledge.”

Sophie blushed—but she obediently lowered her eyes, looking down her husband’s chest to the planed lines of his stomach and even farther. A mischievous gleam lit her eyes. She trailed a finger over Patrick’s muscled skin, tracing the path her eyes had taken.

“Hmm,” she said, her voice husky.

Patrick’s eyes narrowed. His voice emerged half strangled. “What does that mean? Hmm?” His skin was marked with fire where her finger had lingered, let alone what she was doing now with that innocent expression on her face.

Sophie found that her breath was coming quickly and she’d lost the thread of the discussion.

“In order for me to finish my investigation,” she whispered, “I need to do some research.” A trail of kisses retraced the path of her finger.

Patrick gasped and then groaned. His heart raced to a brutal drumming in his chest.

“No research.” Patrick didn’t sound like himself. His muscled arms braced as he provocatively drove Sophie toward the same flaming passion that had conquered him.

“We’ll discuss it later,” she managed, and then the time for talking was over.

When Patrick and Sophie Foakes finally emerged onto the deck of the Lark, the sun was high in the sky.

Sophie blinked at the chilly, bright quality of the air. As far as she could see there was nothing but foam-tossed waves and swooping gulls.

“How far are we out to sea?”

“Not far,” Patrick replied. “As long as these seagulls stay with us, we haven’t gone far out. And we won’t ever leave the shore far behind on this trip. We’ll round the tip of Cornwall and then pull into the coast of Wales whenever we please.”

Patrick thought of telling Sophie about the fortifications he was to inspect, and then dismissed it. He could tell her about it later. It wasn’t exactly romantic talk.