When she turned toward the house, her thoughts turned to Dawson, too. The man seemed different this day than he had the day before, the expression on his face softer, kinder. She turned away, but in her mind, she could still see his face. His eyes penetrated her thoughts. Her heart quivered and her stomach dipped with nervous apprehension.
She wanted to hate him, to tell him to go away and leave her alone. Yet, she couldn’t help but feel she didn’t hate him near as much as she wished she could. Even after the harsh way he spoke to her, she still felt the crackle of attraction between them. She hated how often her thoughts turned to him and what he would have looked like in a sailor’s uniform.
You have no right, Catherine—no rights whatsoever to think of Dawson in those intimate ways. Think of Nathaniel. He’s the man who’ll be your husband.