XXII – Morning
She had been dreaming when a noisy maneuver on deck awoke her; with a soft gasp, she jerked awake. It took a moment to remember that she was on board Sir Percy Blakeney's yacht, and perfectly safe. That she wasn't still in France, a prisoner of Adet.
She groaned softly in relief, and almost as soon as she did, she heard her husband groan as well. His left arm was over his eyes, his mouth set in a grimace. He lifted the arm for a second or so in order to glare at the ceiling, before he muttered, "Damn Percy, sometimes! If I didn't know better, I'd say he did that on purpose!"
Yvonne giggled softly, and his expression melted into a smile.
"I should go find a seamstress," he murmured, running his other hand down her back. "So that you may be properly attired to leave the Daydream."
Tracing a line down the center of his chest with her finger, she whispered, "In an hour or so, perhaps."
She felt him shudder deliciously, before he twisted on top of her to kiss her.
Easing her tongue between his lips, groaning at the feel of him, tracing the broad planes of his body with her small hands, Yvonne allowed herself to forget the previous two weeks and arch towards her husband.