Lost Lady by Jude Deveraux

Author:Jude Deveraux [Deveraux, Jude]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: General, Romance, Fiction, convert, Conversion is important., conversion
ISBN: 9780671739775
Google: Lu8YynGe94MC
Amazon: B0073AQFP4
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 1985-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

"Get up!" Travis commanded, slapping her firm, lovely buttocks. "If we don't get started, we'll never make it to Clay's house, and if you think I'm going to spend a night on that little sloop with you, you're wrong."

Having no idea what he was talking about, she didn't make a comment but pushed her hair out of her eyes and pulled a tulip petal from where it was stuck to her cheek. "Why wouldn't you spend the night on a ship with me?" she asked idly, sitting up, feeling dazed and drained—but happy.

"It's not a ship," he answered, "but a tiny little boat, and we'd probably sink it with your acrobatics."

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"My—?" she began, trying to look haughty, but sitting naked in the midst of the large pile of crashed flowers, her cheeks pink, her eyes liquid and lazy, she couldn't look like more than a tempting little wood-sprite.

Travis, his cheeks covered with shaving soap, looked at her in the mirror, and his glance made her smile and start to lean back on the bed. "Oh, no you don't," he cautioned, immediately changing his look to a threatening one. "If you don't get out of that bed this minute, I'll see that we have separate bedrooms at my house."

That absurd threat made her laugh, but just the same she got up and began to wash. She felt so good that she couldn't seem to do anything in a hurry, yet Travis wouldn't help her get dressed but stood to one side impatiently waiting for her.

When at last she was ready to leave, he half-pushed her down the stairs and to a chair where an enormous American meal awaited her. Travis set to the food like a starving man, grumbling that he never got regular meals anymore and that she was wearing him out in the prime of life, but his eyes danced with merriment.

In very short order their trunks were stowed on the little boat, they were heading up the James River toward Travis's home, and Regan began bombarding him with questions. Before, she had fought so hard against going to America that she hadn't thought much about where Travis lived.

"Is your farm very large? Do you plow the fields yourself, or do you have employees? Is your house as nice as where the Judge and Martha live?"

Looking at her in bewilderment for a moment, Travis began to smile. "My… ah… farm is a good size, and I do have a few employees, but I sometimes plow my own fields. And I believe my house is rather nice, but then maybe that's because it's mine."

"And you built it with your own hands, " she said dreamily, trailing her hand in the water. Perhaps in a simple country like this, her lack of experience in household management wouldn't be so devastating.

Farrell had said he knew she couldn't manage his estate, and she was sure he was right. But with a little place like Travis's, maybe a one-or two-room house, she could manage.

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