Til Debt Do Us Part (Married At Midnight #4)

Chapter 12

Twelve

Dare

I t isn’t until I am steering the yacht out of the harbor that I begin to feel in control again. It’s a drizzly day, the sun hiding behind heavy clouds all day long. I grip the polished wood steering wheel as I look out over the sea. All I see beyond the deck of the boat are shades of gray sky and deep blue-black water.

Everything is so much simpler at the helm of my yacht. There are no backstabbing brothers, no imperious grandparents, no sketchy characters looming far too close to Talia for any kind of comfort. And because I have turned off my phone and directed all business to my personal assistant, there are not even any urgent business matters that demand my attention.

Here, it’s just me and the ship. When I want to change direction, I do so with an easy twist of the wheel. There are five screens in front of me that give me a sense of what is coming. Other than that, the yacht gives me no orders and suggests no directions.

I’m the one in charge.

It certainly makes me feel better than being told that I’m selfish. There is no one here to make a fuss about my personal priorities or to call me an asshole for putting myself first.

It’s nice, though it feels a tiny bit hollow.

The softest scuffing noise makes me turn around. The steering wheel is on the highest deck of the boat. I left Talia sitting in the warmth and comfort of the main deck’s viewing area. Lined with sleek black leather couches and enclosed by glass walls, it allows one to look out at the sea in any weather and while wrapped in luxury.

The scuffing sound comes again, followed by the faintest moan. I slow the yacht and head down the steps, spotting Talia as soon as I open the door to the viewing area. She’s on her knees, bent over a small wastebasket, emptying the contents of her stomach.

I walk over and touch her back and she stiffens, straightening and wiping her mouth on the back of her sleeve. “I would like some privacy,” she says softly.

I kneel beside her, reaching in my jacket pocket and withdrawing a handkerchief. I offer it to her, looking at how pasty she is. I imagine she would blush a deep red right now if her face were not drained of nearly every ounce of blood.

Talia takes the handkerchief, her eyes fluttering closed for just a second. Then she bends over the wastebasket again and heaves. I can do nothing but pull her long hair from her face, closing my fingers around her hair like a hair elastic and drawing it to the back of her neck.

When the bout of seasickness passes, Talia wipes her mouth once again.

“Let’s get you to bed,” I say. “Come on.”

Without waiting for her response, I hook her under each arm and haul her to her feet. It only takes the work of a couple of minutes to guide her downstairs into the largest bedroom, to peel off her coat, and to take off her shoes. Talia grabs the wastebasket from the bedroom and drags it into bed with her.

I head into the bathroom, rooting through the medicine cabinet until I find a bottle of anti-nausea medication. Returning with a couple of pills and a bottle of water, I offer them to Talia.

She looks white as a sheet when she turns to me. “What are you offering me?”

“Something for motion sickness.”

She lifts her hand as if to scoop up the pills, but hesitates. “Is it safe for the baby?”

My lips twitch. “Yes. I checked the last time we were on the yacht. It is perfectly safe.”

She swallows, eyeing the pills for a moment longer. Then she takes a sip of the water and swallows the pills.

I take a seat beside her on the bed, watching her expression carefully. She catches my examination and arches a brow.

“What are you expecting me to do?”

Shrugging a shoulder, I lean closer and brush a fiery lock of her hair away from her face. A tiny frown creases her brow as she watches me as closely. Like I’m a predator, and if she turns her back, I might pounce at any second.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

Her face shows her confusion. “Like what?”

“Like I’m a lion and you’re the human who has made the mistake of thinking you can tame me. I’m not going to bite, Talia.”

She starts to say something, a quick retort. But then her body goes rigid. She lies down and closes her eyes. I notice that she still looks withdrawn and pale as a ghost.

Her lips are clamped together, her expression tense. I brush another lock of her hair away from her face and wait.

After several minutes, the bout of nausea passes. Talia opens her eyes, exhaling.

“At least I didn’t throw up that time,” she grouses.

“No.”

Her lips thin. “Why are you still here? I thought you would have returned to captaining the ship by now.”

All she gets from me in exchange for her remark is a vague shoulder shrug. “And yet, here I am.”

She blinks, stifling a yawn. “Where are we going?”

“The destination is not the point. We are just sailing for the sake of the journey. And I know that we’ll be left alone here. There are definitely no vagrants here, sharpening their knives and waiting for people that look like us to cross their paths.”

“Vagrants.” She releases a soft snort. “No one is targeting me . People that look like you, maybe.”

I narrow my eyes and cross my arms, leaning back. “I don’t think so, darling girl. You’re my wife now. You wear my ring. You dress like you have money. You blend in with the upper class so well that the boundaries disappear completely.”

Talia’s eyebrows rise. She runs her hand over the hair on the pillow beside her head. “You think so?”

I nod.

She yawns. “That’s good, coming from you. You’re a snob.”

“I’m discerning,” I fire back. “And you agreed to marry me over my twin. So who between us is the pickiest one?”

She blinks several times, her eyelids growing heavy. “Not sure.”

I lean over, pulling the comforter up around her body. Talia’s eyes flutter open and her lips curve into a smile. She turns over on her side, her hand seeking out mine on top of the covers.

“I’m tired,” she admits.

“Just relax.” I begin to rub slow circles into her back using my free hand. “I’ll take a sleeping wife over a sick wife any damn day.”

She closes her eyes, gripping my hand. I start to move away, but she clutches my hand harder and whines.

“Stay for a few minutes,” she whispers. She nuzzles my hand, imploring me. “Please.”

My jaw tenses. Her plea is an arrow straight into my heart. Talia is begging me to stay and protect her while she sleeps.

What kind of monster could say no to that?

“Of course,” I grate out. Resettling myself on the bed, I skate my gaze down her body. I tug the comforter up around her shoulder and gently comb my fingers through the hair at her temple. She makes a soft sound in response, a quiet mm of what I assume is pleasure.

No, not pleasure.

Safety.

She feels safe knowing I am watching over her.

Sucking in a breath, I stare down at Talia’s sleeping form. I like her when she’s like this, all sleepy and curled up next to me. When we first met, I would have never thought that I would be right here, with Talia gripping my hand while she sleeps.

The sheer pleasure of realizing that Talia needs me, that she wants me to be close… If my frozen heart is on a glacier, this feeling is a block of ice shearing off and falling away into the nearby water.

I press my free hand to my chest, feeling as though something is loosening and unlocking. Breaking free.

Whatever this sensation is, I want more of it. I’ve only had the tiniest bit but the feeling is addictive.

When I stand up to shed my jacket, Talia makes a sleepy noise of protest and opens her eyes.

“What–”

“Shh.” I lie down beside her, spooning her, and pull her close. “Go to sleep, darling girl.”

A shudder runs through her, but her eyes sink closed once more. She grabs my hand and pulls my arm around her waist, tucking it against her chest.

Is this her way of marking me? Of telling me that I’m hers?

Fuck.

Burying my nose in Talia’s coppery hair, I inhale her scent and try to be calm. As the even sound of her breathing lulls me into the lightest of dozes, a solitary thought swims to the surface of my mind.

Is this what Talia wanted when she called me selfish? It must be.