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No gentleman of her acquaintance would sit down to dinner without his coat, much less his shirt. Yet Griff seemed perfectly at ease in her room. In his skin.
His skin…
She had barely been able to look at him before. Now she found it difficult to look away.
“You do not touch your food,” he said softly.
She grabbed her fork and stabbed at the fish. “It’s delicious. Oh.” She closed her eyes a moment in appreciation. “It really is. Thank the cook for me.”
“You are welcome.”
“You? But…” She hid her confusion in another sip of wine.
“No doctor,” he had said. No priest. No cook, either?
“We live simply here,” he said.
Emma scowled into her glass. Simply, fine. But even the most modest households had one female who could cook.
A horrible thought struck her.
“You’re not—” Dear God. “You’re not smugglers, are you?”
His low laugh reassured her. “Not smugglers or pirates.”
Relief made her giddy. Or maybe it was the wine on her empty stomach. “Too bad,” she teased. “I always thought being kidnapped by pirates would be very romantic.”
“Kidnapped,” Griff repeated without expression.
She set her glass down. “I didn’t mean—I hope you’re not offended.”
“No.”
“Because you didn’t kidnap me. You rescued me.” Or the seal did. She was a little confused. The wine must have gone to her head.
He handed her an apple. “Eat.”
She bit obediently. The fruit was crisp and tart enough to pucker her mouth. She took another sip to wash it down. “So…You grow apples.”
He did not look like any farmer she’d ever known. His skin was smooth and the same warm gold all over. Cream and honey.
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “The apples grow,” he said. “We are sea folk. We take wh
at we need from the sea.”
“And that’s enough for you? You said yourself you were isolated here. Don’t you ever want to see the world?”
“All of us may roam. But this is our home. Our way of life. I belong here.”
Emma sighed. “That’s nice. I never belonged at home. Or at school either, really.” A red-haired charity student with an impulsive streak and dreams beyond her station had not always fit in at the solidly middle-class girls’ school. “But I love to teach.”
Griff watched her, an elbow on his knee, his long body absorbing the heat of the fire. She shivered.
“And that is all you want,” he said. “To teach?”
Emma blinked. No one ever asked her what she wanted. “I wanted what every girl wants, I guess. Marriage. A family. A home of my own.”
Paul’s voice jeered in her head. “Good God, I never intended to marry you.”
