Excerpt of Castaway Dreams by Darlene Marshall

Alexander had to keep from snickering at the
oh-so-fashionable Miss Farnham. Her hair was a tangled
mess,
red paint was streaked and smeared on her face like a
doxie
after a particularly busy night, and her lucent eyes were
narrowed as she waited for him to explain how she was
going
to eat raw fish.

He felt almost…he hesitated because it was so odd as to
defy
description…almost lighthearted. Then Miss Farnham’s
stomach
growled in a most insistent fashion.

“Now, this is what we are going to do, Miss Farnham,”
Alexander said firmly. “Have you ever eaten oysters on
the
shell?”

She blinked and looked at him.

“Yes, of course.”

“Then you know how it is done. You sip the oyster off its
shell, taste it, chew a bit and then let it slide down
your
throat.”

She looked down at the fish pieces on the bench.

“I generally eat my oysters off of fine china with a
silver
fork, a squeeze of lemon and plenty of champagne,” Miss
Farnham said.

He scooped up some of the fish in his hand and said,
“Close
your eyes, Miss Farnham.”

She did, sitting very still as their boat rocked gently
on
the silent water.

“Now, imagine you are dining with friends. Perhaps it is
after an evening at the theater. You have arranged for a
late supper and there are oy—”

“There should be music.” Her eyes popped open and she
looked
at him accusingly. “If we arranged for a late supper, we
would arrange for musicians. You could hum, perhaps?”

“Close your eyes, Miss Farnham. Now.”

“Oh, very well,” she grumped, but she closed her eyes.
And
started humming.

“Miss Farnham.”

One eye popped open.

“You cannot hum and eat at the same time. No, do not even
think of trying it.”

She sighed resignedly and settled herself back down, eyes
closed, lips pursed.

“Open your mouth, Miss Farnham.”

Her mouth with pink salve darkening her already luscious
lips opened, just a sigh’s worth, and Alex brought the
fish
to her lips. She nibbled it off his fingers, swallowing
rapidly, then her eyes flew open and she put her hand
over
her mouth.

“Daphne, what is your favorite color?” he barked.

“Pink! Oh, I need some water!”

He gave her the flask and she swallowed, and while she
looked a bit pale, she kept her stomach’s contents
intact.
His distracting question had done its job.

She took a deep breath.

“I did it, Doctor. I ate the—”

“Do not say it, do not think about it.”

“It was not so bad, Doctor. We may be onto something
here.”

“No one is going to eat raw fish if they can possibly
help
it, Miss Farnham. Now, close your eyes.”

She did, obediently opening her mouth like a fledgling in
the nest, and he fed her more tidbits. His fingers
brushed
against her moist lips as she took the food from him, her
warm breath caressing his sensitive finger tips. Now he
was
trying not to think about it, what it felt like to have
this
beautiful woman take his fingers into her mouth, lightly
sucking at them as she pulled in the firm, salty morsels,
her delicate throat working to swallow, her eyes closed
and
an intense look of concentration on her sweat-dewed brow.

“One—” He cleared his throat and tried to speak again.
“One
moment, please—no, do not open your eyes!”

He grabbed his coat and pulled it across his lap, even
though the day was hot and growing hotter. The last thing
he
needed was for her to open her eyes and see him sitting
inches away with his compass pointing north.

“What are you thinking about, Doctor?”

“Involuntary responses...”