“Perhaps you’re right.” Braddon rubbed his hands up and down her back in a comforting manner, hoping that Madeleine wouldn’t notice how his hands trailed over the delicious rise of her bottom. “Let’s get married tonight, Madeleine. The scheme will never work. We’ll go to the border.”

Madeleine twitched herself away from his straying hands and frowned, an adorable line appearing between her brows. “You are a reprobate,” she snapped. “Lord only knows why I want to marry you.”

Braddon snatched her up the minute the words left her mouth. “You do? You will? You want to marry me? Oh Maddie …” He bent his head and ravaged her mouth.

Madeleine shivered as a wave of heat rose from her knees to her breast. He might not be the brightest in the world, her Braddon, but there was something about his kisses that turned her into a puddle of jelly.

As the Lark headed to its first port of call on the Welsh coast, Sophie and Patrick were sitting on the deck, enjoying a bout of unusually temperate afternoon sunshine. Sophie was soundly beating her husband at backgammon.

“It’s not fair,” Patrick said moodily. “You’ve no strategy at all, other than throwing those bloody doubles every other turn.”

Sophie smiled as she gleefully scooped up two of his pieces, sending them back to the beginning.

“My grandfather used to say it was my only skill at board games.”

Patrick cast her an unwilling look of admiration. “I wouldn’t say you’re a peagoose at the chessboard, m’dear.”

“Pooh! You’ve beaten me two out of three times.”

“Yes, but normally I can’t be beat at all,” Patrick pointed out. “And never before by a female,” he added, with just a trifle of an edge in his voice.

“Dear Patrick. It quite wrings my heart to see how much you are suffering.”

Patrick bared his teeth at her. “You’re a witch, wife. A witchy wife.”

Sophie delicately licked her lips. “Hmm … I wonder what spell I might cast on you?”

Despite himself Patrick leaned forward, a finger tracing the dainty outline of Sophie’s lips. “You have the most kissable lips in the world, witch.”

Her eyes glinting, Sophie touched his finger with her tongue and then drew the finger into the warm recesses of her mouth. “Perhaps you have cast a spell on me,” she whispered.

Patrick was just rising from his chair when an awkward cough sounded at his left ear.

“Excuse me, sir.” Captain Hibbert was standing, cap in hand, looking a bit worried. “I wonder if you’d cast your eye to the east and let me know what you think. Begging your pardon, madam.”

Sophie smiled at him. She liked the tongue-shy captain, with his clumsy manners and bashful looks.

“Please, Captain Hibbert, don’t let me interrupt your discussion,” she said, rising from her chair. “I was about to retire to my cabin.”