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...”