Ship of Dreams Read Online Free Page B

to improvise so thoroughly or so quickly. Mr. Bradford had been no help, other than filling in a few details about his shipping business. He'd left the entire burden of describing their meeting and courtship to her.
    "An occasional comment from you might have made the story more convincing," she murmured as they moved away from the others to climb the stairs to the promenade deck.
    "You seemed to have the whole matter well in hand," he replied. "I was agog to hear what you would come up with next." He carefully did not touch her, she noticed—as though she were slimy, or contagious.
    Reaching the railing, she turned to face him, suddenly angry. "It was your idea—no, your command —that I continue in this role, if you recall. What else was I to do when they began asking questions? I only did what you demanded, and now you despise me for it."
    Surprisingly, he smiled. "I'm being most unfair, am I not? You're right, of course, but I'd have been little help even if I had tried. I fear I have nowhere near your, ah, skill in such matters. It's not something I've been used to."
    He was still mocking her, condemning her. "You'd best develop such skills, then," she snapped, "if you insist we play these parts for the next two weeks."
    "Don't forget—don't ever forget—that you brought this upon yourself, Miss Gilley." The smile was gone now, his voice low and dangerous. "I'm merely trying to minimize the damage you've already wrought."
    It was true, she knew, but she tossed her head and stared out at the sparkling water rather than meet his gaze. "Then you'll have to play your part as well. Behaving as if your new wife has the plague will hardly convince anyone that our story is true."
    He was silent for such a long time that she finally risked a quick glance to make sure he hadn't left her standing there alone. But no, he was also staring at the sea, his brow furrowed.
    "This whole thing is alien to my nature," he said at last. "But I see no other way now. I'll endeavor to do better."
    It pricked her pride that he should so obviously regret being thrown together with her, but she could hardly blame him, under the circumstances. "If it helps at all, I'm truly sorry I've forced you into such a situation," she said softly.
    He turned to look at her, his expression enigmatic. "Thank you. It does. But I imagine that before all is over, you'll be sorrier still."
    She glared at him, her sympathy abruptly evaporating. "And you plan to make sure of that, don't you? It appears I made a poor choice after all. You, Kent Bradford, are a bully!" With that, Della stalked off to find another section of rail for her vantage point—one as far from the infuriating man as possible.
    The weather was fine, warm but not uncomfortably so, and the promenade deck was crowded, but she managed to find a corner to herself near the bow of the ship. As she watched the ocean flowing away beneath them, the enormous twin paddle wheels compensating for the lack of wind, Della's anger seeped away.
    So many things could have gone wrong, preventing her from being where she was right now! That accusation could easily have come on any other day, as the steamer sailed only every second Thursday. She could have been too late for the sailing, or the police could have caught her as she boarded. Or Mr. Bradford could have denounced her the moment she first spoke.
    No, awkward as her situation was now, it could have been far, far worse! Lady Luck had been her ally yet again, and Della had much to be grateful for—even if she'd rather not be obligated to an insufferable man like Kenton Bradford.
    A high, breathy voice broke into her musings. "Mrs. Bradford—or may I call you Della?—isn't this a lovely day?" Della turned to see Mary Patterson, blonde and bouncy, at her side.
    "It certainly is," she agreed. "And please, call me Della. I've never been one to stand on ceremony."
    "Oh, good! Neither have I. I'm sure we're going to be great friends by the time we reach New