The Lucky One (Brethren Of The Coast #6) Read Online Free PDF Page B

much in love.”
    “So some vows do last forever.” It was a statement, not a question. For a while, Daphne bowed her head and sat in silence. When she lifted her chin and met his gaze, he caught his breath. “You will have your brooch, Sir Dalton. I would stake my life on it.”
    #
    Gasping for air, Daphne shot upright in bed. It took her a few seconds to realize she resided in her bedchamber, safe and sound, after a glorious dinner, which resembled something more akin to the realm of fantasy, with Sir Dalton, the previous evening. Then she peered at the brooch that she had pinned to her cotton nightgown.
    No, she had no right to make use of the curious artifact, as it was not hers to covet. Yet the lore, so carefully detailed by her dashing companion, had struck a chord and fostered hope, as she had scarcely known in recent weeks, so she had employed it in a last ditch effort to identify a solution to her current problem.
    True to the cryptic proclamation, she had experienced a very intense, rather odd dream of which she could make no sense. Ensconced in a warm, comforting glow, the heat of which had suffused her from top to toe, a single image played in her brain, again and again, of a unique gold coin tossing about, as though suspended. There had been no hint or suggestion of the owner of what appeared to be an ancient Roman monetary piece, given the writing and the female profile etched on one side. But what she could neither comprehend nor explain was the opposite end.
    Although her mother had died when Daphne was ten and nine, never had they engaged in any discussion of marital relations, so what little knowledge she possessed had been gleaned from observing farm animals. The particular act, a crude and bawdy depiction, involved a man and a woman and reminded her of two cats that were quite fond of each other. Just revisiting the reverie brought the burn of a blush to her cheeks.
    After wrenching aside the blankets, she dropped her legs over the edge of the mattress and stood. Stretching long, she yawned and then smiled, as she gazed at the crystal vase filled with two-dozen red roses, which Dalton had insisted she accept, as a personal gift. While polite decorum frowned upon such exchanges of familiarity, given their brief acquaintance, she could not resist the temptation he presented. And that was why she also had permitted her host to request the waiter pack the remaining dinner and dessert portions, so her brothers might enjoy the fare.
    At the windows overlooking the rose garden, she drew back the threadbare drapes and basked in the shimmering sunlight. As she assessed her private quarters, which remained bedecked in girlish pink hues, because her family lacked the funds to redecorate, and had seen far better days, Daphne fixed her attention on the cedar chest that had belonged to her grandmother. Like Dalton’s brooch, the old trunk was a treasured heirloom. But times were desperate, and despite the enthralling sea captain’s generous overture, she may still be forced to sell her beloved keepsake to save her family.
    For the moment, she could relax, so she strolled to the armoire and fanned through a selection of modest, worn day dresses that had been altered on two separate occasions to accommodate her changing body. As was the case with everything else, she had no money to replace her outdated wardrobe. Never before had she spared much thought for her attire, but Dalton sported only the best fashions, so she wished to make a good impression on her escort. In short, she wanted to look pretty for him—as she had for no one else. A knock at the door intruded on her deliberation.
    “Come.” She drew forth a pale blue sprig muslin gown with a lace collar and frowned, when she noted the tattered cuffs.
    “Good morning, Miss Daphne.” Mrs. Jones, the housekeeper, strolled into the room. “The boys inhaled the steak and eggs, as did Hicks, but I saved you a portion. Shall I help you prepare for your