The result was the same. The captain’s head hit the marble with a resounding thump.

Sophie glared down at him, prostrate at her feet. “Of all the unmitigated scoundrels,” she began.

Jack shook his head and sighed. “Are you and your cousin so lost to all sensibility that you can’t even swoon at the sight of violence?”

Sophie blinked at him, then humphed. “If you must know, I’m feeling quite violent myself. Did you know he intended to-”

“I heard.” Jack reached for her and drew her to him. “But you don’t need to worry about him any more.”

Sophie readily went into his arms. “But shouldn’t we-”

“It’s already taken care of.” Jack looked down at Gurnard, then prodded him with the toe of his boot. His victim groaned. “I sincerely hope you’re listening, Gurnard, for I’m only going to say this once. I’ve had a word with an acquaintance of mine, the Earl of Melcham. He was most upset to hear of the method you’d selected to raise the wind. He doesn’t approve-not at all. And I’m sure you know what happens to those of whom Melcham disapproves.”

There was a stunned silence, then Gurnard groaned again.

Grimly satisfied, Jack turned Sophie towards the steps. “And now, my dear, I think it’s time we left.” Tucking her hand in his arm, he led her down onto the gravelled walk.

Sophie went readily, her mind seething with questions. “What happened to Clarissa? Did she go to the temple?”

Jack glanced down at her. “She did.”

Sophie glared at him. “What happened?”

Jack smiled and told her, adding that Horatio had approved their scheme. “If Clarissa had simply not shown up, Gurnard would have assumed she’d been prevented from doing so, not that she wouldn’t go to meet him. He’d have tried again to get her alone, and perhaps we wouldn’t have learned of his intentions in time to foil him. It was best to make the situation as clear as possible.”

“But what if he turns to some other young lady?”

“He won’t have time. As of tomorrow, courtesy of Melcham, to whom Gurnard is deeply in debt, the captain will have entirely too much on his mind to think of persuading any other young lady to his rescue.”

Sophie pondered his revelations, her feet following his lead. “So Ned floored the captain?”

“He seems to have floored Clarissa as well.” Jack’s lips curved in fond reminiscence. He slanted a glance at Sophie. “We all thought the opportunity too good to miss to advance Ned’s standing with your cousin.”

For an instant, Sophie stared into his smugly satisfied face. Then she burst out laughing. “Oh, dear. Was that supposed to be Ned’s great scene-so that Clarissa would think him her hero and respond suitably?”

Frowning, Jack nodded.

“Oh, poor Ned.” Sophie could not stop smiling. She glanced confidently up at Jack. “Just for your information, Clarissa settled on Ned some weeks ago, not all that long after we’d come up to town. She’s been trying to nudge him along for the past two weeks at least. I’m not at all surprised to hear she flung herself into his arms. After all, what better opportunity she could hope for?”

Jack looked down at her through narrowed eyes. “Remind me,” he said, “to tell Ned just what he’s getting into, marrying a Webb female.”

Sophie pressed her lips tightly together. When she was sure her voice was under control, she said, “I’m related to the Webbs; does that make me a ‘Webb female’, too?”

Jack’s glance was supercilious. “I haven’t yet decided.”

It was then, when he stood back to usher her through the watergate, that Sophie realized that they had been walking in the wrong direction. A leafy lane stretched before them. Not far ahead, the lane ended by the banks of the Thames. Sophie halted. “Ah… Jack…?”

Jack looked down at her and held out his hand. “Your uncle’s returned. He spoke to you, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” Eyes wide, Sophie studied his face. “He told me there’s no reason we can’t marry.”

“Precisely.” Jack smiled, closing his hand about the fingers she had automatically surrendered. He drew her closer and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “Which is to say that by common consent, general agreement and the blessing of Fate, my wait is, at long last, over.”

“But shouldn’t we…?” Sophie glanced back at the dark shrubbery of the Gardens, slowly receding in their wake.

Jack cast her a reproving glance. “Really, my dear. You don’t seriously imagine that I, such as I am, could consider Vauxhall a suitable venue for a proposal, do you?”

There seemed no sensible answer to that.

But Sophie had no time to ponder the implications. They had reached the water’s edge. She glanced about, somewhat surprised at the bustling scene. A stone wharf lined the river and extended out in a jetty where a small flotilla of pleasure craft bobbed gently at their moorings.

“If habits linger, he’ll be at the end.”

A most peculiar sensation started to creep along Sophie’s nerves. She clung to Jack’s arm as they wended their way between Garden patrons haggling with the boatmen, and others embarking for a slow ride home. The craft were of a variety of sizes, some holding no more than a couple, while others could comfortably carry a small party. Still others had canopies erected over their bows under which lovers could pursue their acquaintance in privacy, screened by drapes which let down about the sides.

It was towards one of these last that Jack led her.

“Rollinson?”

Sophie suddenly felt quite light-headed.

The beefy boatman in charge of the largest and most opulent craft turned from desultory conversation with his crew to peer up at Jack. “There you be, Mr. Lester!” He grinned, displaying a row of decidedly haphazard teeth, and tipped his felt hat to Sophie. “Got your message. We’re here and ready, sir.”

“Very good,” Jack replied.

Sophie found it hard to follow the rest of their conversation, at least half of which was conducted in boatman’s cant. She glanced about, trying to interest herself in the scene, rather than dwell on what their presence here probably meant. If she thought of that, she might feel obliged to protest.

As it was, she was not to escape making some part of the decision on her fate. Their itinerary agreed upon, Jack leapt down to the wooden planking of the boat’s hull, which floated a good yard below the jetty.

He then turned to study Sophie, one brow rising. “Well, my dear?” With a graceful gesture, he indicated the boat and the curtain cutting off the bow. His slow, slightly crooked smile twisted his lips. “Will you trust yourself to me tonight?”

For an instant, Sophie stared down at him, oblivious of those about them, of the sly yet careful glances cast her by the boatmen. All she could see was Jack, waiting for her, a very definite glint in his eyes. For an instant, she closed her own. What he was suggesting was perfectly scandalous. Drawing in a deep breath, she opened her eyes and, with a soft smile, stepped to the edge of the jetty.

The familiar feel of Jack’s hands about her waist was reassuring, soothing the peculiar jitteriness that, all of a sudden, had afflicted her. He set her down beside him, one arm slipping about her to steady her as he helped her across the rowing benches. Parting the heavy damask curtain that screened the bow, he ushered her through.

Sophie entered a private and very luxurious world of moonlight glinting on water. The curtain fell closed behind them, sealing them in. With a slight lurch, the boat got under way. Jack’s arm came to urge her to a seat as the boat nosed out onto the river. Once clear of the craft by the jetty, the boat pulled smoothly, powerfully, upstream.

As her eyes adjusted to the deep shadows beneath the canopy, Sophie, fascinated, gazed about. She was seated amid a pile of huge silk cushions spread over a satin-draped platform, heavily padded, that was constructed to fit snugly across the bow. The platform all but filled the area behind the curtain, leaving barely enough room for a wine cooler, which, she noticed, contained a bottle, already open and chilling, and a small fixed buffet holding glasses and small dishes of unidentifiable delicacies. Jack turned from examining the buffet’s offerings to look down at her.

“I think we’ll leave the caviar for second course.”

Sophie’s eyes widened. She didn’t need to ask what he fancied for the first. His eyes, even in the shadows, gleamed as they rested on her. Clearing her throat, suddenly dry, she asked, a trifle unsteadily, “You planned this?”

His smile was smugly triumphant. “To the last detail,” Jack averred, coming to lounge on the cushions beside her. “It’s customary, you know.”

“Is it?” Sophie stared at him.

“Mmm-hmm.” Jack leaned back, gazing upward to where the canopy overhead was drawn partially back, revealing the black velvet of the sky sprinkled with jewelled stars. “Seductions are never so satisfying as when they’re well-planned.”

Sophie bit her lip and eyed him warily.

His gaze on her face, Jack laughed and, reaching up, drew her down to lie among the cushions beside him. Sophie hesitated, then yielded to his gentle strength. Propped on one elbow, Jack smiled down into her wide eyes. Then he bent his head and kissed her, long and lingeringly, before whispering against her lips, “I’m not teasing, Sophie.”

A thrill of desire raced through Sophie, all the way down to her toes. She opened her lips on a feeble protest-and Jack kissed her again. And kept kissing her until she had no breath left to speak.

“No, Sophie.” Jack dropped soft kisses on her eyelids as his fingers deftly unbuttoned her gown. “I’ve had more than enough of wooing you, my love. You’re mine, and I’m yours. And nothing else matters.” His voice deepened at the last as he looked down at her breast, the firm ivory flesh filling his palm.

Sophie arched lightly as his thumb circled the rosy peak. Unable to speak, barely able to breathe, she watched him from beneath heavy lids as he caressed her. Then he lowered his head and she stopped breathing altogether, her fingers sinking into his shoulders as his tongue lightly teased, knowingly tantalized.

“Besides,” Jack murmured against her soft skin. “We’ve only one thing left to discuss.”

“Discuss?” The word came out weakly on a slow exhalation, the best Sophie could manage, her mind struggling against the drugging haze of his caresses.

“Hmm. We have to discuss what I’ll accept as suitable recompense for my torture.”

“Torture?” Sophie knew about torture. She was being tortured now, his hands touching her so skilfully she was gripped by an urgent longing. “What torture?”

“The torture of having to woo you, sweet Sophie.”

Sophie stirred, consumed by the sweetest ache. “Was it torture?”

“Torture and worse,” Jack vowed, his voice deep and raspy.

Sophie sighed. “What do you consider suitable recompense?” She just managed to get the words out before he stole her breath again with a caress so artful she thought she could faint. She didn’t, but the sensations didn’t stop, darting through her like lightning, spreading like warm fire beneath her skin.

Aeons filled with pleasure seemed to have passed before she heard his soft murmur.

“I know what I want as my reward for wooing you. Will you give it me?”

“Yes.” Her voice was a soft whisper on the breeze.

Jack raised his head, a smile twisting his lips. “I haven’t yet told you what I want.”

Sophie returned his smile with one of her own. “It had better be me-for that’s all I have to give you.”

For the first time in his rakish career, Jack was lost for words. He looked down into her eyes, passion-filled and mysterious. “Sophie.” His voice was hoarse, dark with his turbulent passions. “You’re all I’ll ever want.”

“Then take me,” Sophie murmured, wondering, very distantly, how she dared. She reached up and drew his lips to hers before her sane self could resurface and disturb the glorious moment.

Thereafter, her sanity or otherwise was not in question; desire caught her and held her until she glowed with its flame. Jack fed her fires, never letting her cool, until she ached for him to join her. When he did, it was as if the sun shone brightly out of the night-dark sky. Sophie surrendered to joy and delight and rapturous, delirious pleasure. For one timeless moment, she felt that she had flown so high she could touch the stars gleaming in the firmament. Then she softly drifted back to earth, safe, forever, in Jack’s strong arms.

The gentle rocking of the boat, and Jack’s heavy weight, drew her slowly back to reality.

Surprisingly, Sophie found her mind oddly clear, as if the sensations that had held her body in thrall had proved so overpowering that her wits had disengaged and retreated to a safe distance. She could feel the cool caress of the river breeze on her naked skin and her lover’s touch as, propped now beside her, he gently stroked her hair from her face. She opened her eyes and looked up. He was a dark shadow as he hung over her, solid and comforting in the moonlight. Sophie listened for the shush of the water under the hull-and made a discovery. “We’re not moving.”