The Emerald offered a butler service. Taylor hadn't taken advantage of the service. She hadn't let anyone clean the stateroom either but had seen to the task herself. For a rich, pampered woman, her behavior was confusing.
"Taylor?"
"Yes?"
"In London, that last night, why did you give your necklace to that young girl?"
What an odd thing for him to be thinking about now, she thought. She stifled a yawn before she answered. "It gave her pleasure to have it."
He wouldn't accept that half answer. "And?" he prodded.
"I knew I wouldn't be needing it."
Lucas frowned over her explanation a long minute. "They don't wear expensive necklaces in Boston?"
"I imagine some do."
The tables had been neatly turned on him. Lucas found it frustrating not to be able to get a straight answer out of her. He wasn't going to give up. "Your grandmother told me the marriage would protect your inheritance from your uncle."
"Yes, that's true. What else did Madam tell you?"
"To watch out for you."
"I can watch out for myself."
She sounded indignant. Lucas smiled. How like an innocent to think she could take on the world and all the evil associated with it.
He stacked his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling while he gathered his thoughts. "But the inheritance isn't the only reason why you married me, is it?"
"Madam worked hard to accumulate her wealth. She didn't want to see it squandered away. I feel the same way."
"Then why did you give your necklace away? I assume it was valuable. Those were real gems, weren't they?"
"Yes."
"Then why…"
"I have already explained," she insisted. "I don't need such trinkets any longer."
They were right back where they had started. Lucas grudgingly admitted Taylor was every bit as good as he was when it came to giving only evasive answers.
"I still want to know-"
She cut him off. "I'm very tired, Mr. Ross. Do let me sleep." She rolled over to face the wall. She closed her eyes and let out a loud, thoroughly forced yawn.
She prayed Lucas would take the hint. She wanted him to quit his inquisition and go to sleep. He would have to know about the babies, of course, but in Taylor's mind, later was better than sooner. She didn't see any reason to enlighten him just yet. He'd already proven to be a little stubborn, and she knew that if he found out she planned to follow him to Redemption, he might try to stop her. Taylor let out a sigh. Of course he would stop her. He would have noble reasons, too. In his opinion, she belonged in the parlors of Boston, sipping tea and acting like a silly chit. She certainly didn't belong in Redemption. Hadn't he said she'd hate it?
Taylor's thoughts were all but forgotten when she felt the covers being pulled back. She rolled onto her back and let out a little gasp of surprise. Lucas was towering over her. It was dark inside the stateroom, but she could still see the frown on his face.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
He sat down. She tried to get out of his way. Her nightgown was trapped under his thigh and she tried to pull the thing free, but Lucas turned her attention again when he put his hands on her shoulders.
"Look at me," he commanded.
His voice was gruff, filled with irritation. She let him see how disgruntled she was. "Do you know, Mr. Ross, you become irritated at the drop of a hat."
"I want you to answer a question for me."
"All right. What is it?"
"Why did you marry me?"
She couldn't look him in the eye when she answered him. Her full attention was centered on his throat. "To protect my inheritance."
"And?" he prodded.
She sighed. He was like a cat after a ball of yarn. He wasn't going to give up until he had all his questions answered. "To prevent Uncle Malcolm from marrying me to the first rake he spotted."
Lucas shook his head. There was still more than she was telling. He was sure of it. "And what other reason did you have?"
"I married you for the greater good. There, I've told you all you need to know."
"What greater good?"
She shook her head. "You shouldn't be sitting on my bed," she announced with as much indignation as she could muster. "It isn't appropriate. I sleep under the covers. You sleep on top, remember?"
"We're married," he snapped. "Anything's appropriate."
She opened her mouth to say something, then promptly shut it again. Her mind emptied of every thought. She stared up at him and simply waited to see what he would do.
She wasn't afraid of him. The second she remembered that important fact, she started breathing again.
She didn't have any idea how long they stared at each other. It seemed an eternity to her. Lucas seemed to be making his mind up about something important, and from the frown on his face, whatever he was considering wasn't very pleasant.
"You're my wife, Taylor."
She didn't like the sound of that. "Are you telling me you wish to exercise your… rights as my husband?"
She could barely get the question out. She looked appalled by the very idea. Her reaction chafed. He suddenly wanted to throttle her and kiss her at the same time.
Lucas suddenly realized his mistake. He'd gotten too close to her. He could feel the warmth of her skin beneath his hands and all he could think about was touching her. He wanted to taste her, devour her. One kiss, he told himself, just one kiss. Then he would be satisfied.
Hell, he was lying to himself again. He didn't want one kiss. He wanted it all. "No, I don't want to exercise my rights as your husband."
He sounded angry. Taylor couldn't help but be stung by his attitude. He didn't have to look so horrified by the mere idea. She knew she should be feeling relief. She wasn't though. Although she wasn't ready or willing to give herself to Lucas Ross, she still wanted him to find her a little desirable. Every wife wanted her husband to think she was attractive, didn't she? Taylor was honest enough to admit she wanted Lucas to think she was at least pretty.
He, however, acted repulsed by the very thought of touching her.
It was ridiculous for her to have hurt feelings. Yet she was devastated. She was just tired, she decided.
Surely that was the reason his rejection made her feel so inadequate.
Yes, she was overly sensitive tonight, and Lucas Ross was an insensitive lout. "Some men find me attractive."
She hadn't meant to blurt that thought out loud. She let out a sigh. "At least I think they do. You don't like me very much, do you, Lucas?"
"I like you just fine," he replied.
She didn't look like she believed him. He could tell from her expression he'd hurt her feelings. He decided to try to make her understand his position.
"Do you know why I won't touch you?"
"Yes," she answered. "It's quite simple for anyone to understand. You don't want me. An imbecile could figure it out."
"I didn't say I didn't want you."
"Yes, you did."
"I do want you."
Her eyes widened in surprise. Then she shook her head at him. The conversation had taken a bizarre twist. He decided he might as well finish what he started.
"Hell, yes, I want you," he muttered. Then he qualified his answer. "I just don't want to be married to you."
"You can't have it both ways, Lucas."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
She wasn't certain. But she was beginning to feel better now that he acknowledged he was attracted to her.
Then she realized the veiled insult he'd given her. "Do I have a sign on my forehead asking to be insulted?" she snapped. "Honest to heaven, first William Merritt insults me by suggesting I become his mistress and now you insult me by saying you want to… you know, but you don't want to be married. Well?" she demanded.