The Lightkeeper's Woman
Mary Burton
Their Grand Passion Had Burned Too Brightly To SurviveBut faced with wedding another, Alanna Patterson was determined to reignite any smoldering embers of desire Caleb Pitt might still harbor for her. Would her brawny captain, now a solitary lighthouse keeper, rescue her from a sea of regrets? Or had tragedy both public and private sunk any hopes for a lasting love?Caleb Pitt had once believed love was eternal as the sea, for Alanna Patterson had promised him forever. But despite her vow, she'd left him to drown in disgrace. Now, years later, she'd reappeared on a storm-tossed wave, beautiful as a siren…and just as seductive!
“Hating you was pure and simple,”
she whispered. “It was black and white, no room for pain. But I can’t hate you anymore. I don’t want us to be enemies.” Unshed tears burned the back of her throat.
He pulled his hand away from hers and laid it on her shoulder. Through the sweater she could feel the warmth of his skin. “You want me to be your friend?”
“You make it sound so awful!”
He laughed as if he were teetering on insanity. “I can’t wish you good fortune and watch as you marry another.”
“Why not?” Liquid flames shot through her veins, making her dizzy.
“Because my thoughts aren’t the least bit friendly toward you.” His gaze pinned her. “Every time I look at you, I want to strip you down naked and make love to you.”
Acclaim for Mary Burton’s recent books
Rafferty’s Bride
“Ms. Burton has written a romance filled with passion
and compassion, forgiveness and humor; the kind of
well-written story that truly touches the heart because
you can empathize with the characters.”
—Romantic Times
The Perfect Wife
“Mary Burton presents an intricate theme that
questions if security rather than attraction
defines the basis of love.”
—Romantic Times
The Colorado Bride
“A heart-touching romance about love, loss
and the realities of family. In her finely crafted
historical, Mary Burton manages to vibrate some
sensitive and intense modern issues.”
—Romantic Times
“This talented writer is a virtuoso, who strums the hearts
of readers and composes an emotional tale.
I was spellbound.”
—Rendezvous
The Lightkeeper’s Woman
Mary Burton
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Cathy Maxwell and Pamela Gagne,
wonderful critique partners and friends.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Prologue
1882
T here was never enough time.
Alanna Patterson stood before the small open portal of the captain’s cabin. The night wind was warm and the dark sky aglow with an endless blanket of stars. The gentle waters of James River lapped against the side of the schooner Intrepid.
She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Mossy scents of the docks mingled with the aroma of tobacco bundles and freshly milled lumber. The ship had been loaded this afternoon and was ready for departure tomorrow.
If only this night could last forever.
Strong arms banded around Alanna and wrapped her in warmth. Her hand came up to his powerful arms. “Caleb.”
He nuzzled his cheek next to hers. Thick stubble teased her soft skin. “Come back to bed.”
She tipped her head back against his bare chest. “It’s getting late. I must leave soon so that I can be home before anyone realizes I am gone.”
Caleb inhaled a deep breath. “I don’t want it to end.”
Heat spread through her body as she remembered their lovemaking. “Nor I.”
“I love our nights together but I hate it when you leave.”
“Soon we will be wed and I won’t have to sneak back home at dawn.”
His arms tightened around her. “Stay with me. Come with me on this next voyage.”
The idea tempted but reason overcame it quickly. “I can’t leave Richmond now. And you will be back in six weeks. It’s not such a long time.”
“Six weeks is a lifetime.” He laid his large hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. She stared up into his warm blue eyes so filled with love and tenderness. “Marry me.”
She flattened her hands against his bare muscular chest. His heart beat wildly under her fingertips.
“We are getting married after you return,” she said.
He captured a strand of her silken blond hair between his fingers. “The ceremony is not for three more months. I want to marry you now.”
She smiled. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“There’s a church not four blocks from here. I’ll wake the minister.”
The idea made her giddy. She traced the cleft in his chin with her fingertip. “We can’t wake the minister, Caleb. It wouldn’t be right.”
His gaze darkened. “Why not? I’ll make a large donation to the church to make it worth his while.”
She sensed an edge of desperation in him that she’d never felt before. “My father wants to give us a grand wedding as a peace gesture. It’s his way of giving us his blessing. And my mother would have wanted the best for me if she were alive. I don’t want to disappoint him.”
“We’ll marry again before everyone if that’s what you want, but tonight I want to marry you.”
She took his hands in hers. His calluses rubbed against her smooth palms. “Why the sudden change?”
He shoved out a sigh. “Call it a bad feeling.”
She traced his firm jaw with her fingertip. Seamen put a good deal of stock in omens and gut feelings. Even Caleb, as logical as he could be, wasn’t immune to superstition. “There’s nothing to worry about. Father has given his blessing. There’s nothing to keep us apart anymore.”
“I want the world to know you are mine. I love you more than anything. If I were to lose you, I’d go mad.”
She squeezed his hand. He wielded great strength in his body, yet he allowed her to see the vulnerability in his heart. “I don’t need a minister’s vows to seal my love for you. I will be waiting for you when you sail back into the harbor six weeks from now. I am yours. I will love and honor you, Caleb Pitt. Forever and always.”
“Forever and always.” He dropped his gaze to their hands clasped together. He kissed her fingers. “Say it again.”
“I will love you forever and always, Caleb. I am yours to the end of time.”
“And I love you, Alanna. For richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health. Until death us do part.”
Tears filled her eyes as she stared up into the face of the man she loved. “Nothing will ever tear us apart.”
Chapter One
Two years later
T he coachman set the brake and shouted, “Easton, North Carolina.”
Alanna Patterson pushed back the stained coach curtain and stared at the meager collection of gray-black buildings made of sunbaked wood. The town’s main thoroughfare was little more than a path etched into the sandy mud by wagon wheels. The few fishermen and women standing alongside the street looked as tired and broken as the buildings. As if they too had weathered too many winter storms and too many hot, humid summers.
Why in God’s name would Caleb have chosen such a place to call home now?
Alanna had last seen Caleb on the deck of the Intrepid, his ship, as it headed out to sea. She’d been so proud of him. His blue sea captain’s jacket had been tailored perfectly to fit his tall frame and broad shoulders. His pants molded his muscular legs braced against the sway of the ship. He’d been smiling, waving toward her as he’d tried to shout her a few final words. The wind had drowned out his baritone voice, but she’d not worried. She’d gifted him with a vibrant smile and waved. She’d been so confident that their charmed future would be filled with many loving words that a few lost ones wouldn’t matter.
What a fool she’d been.
Unsettled, Alanna gathered her velvet skirts as the coachman opened the door. The tall, gaunt man took her elbow as she climbed down. Her soft gray leather boots sank into the mud up to the laces.
“My shoe!” Alanna said. “Couldn’t you have at least put down a plank?”
The coachman’s gap-tooth grated her nerves. “Everybody knows fancy duds don’t last in Easton.”
Alanna pulled her foot from the sucking mud. The shoe’s pale leather would forever be stained brown. “In your line of work as a coachman I would think you’d see many people who aren’t from Easton. And that you’d take the time to tell them about the streets.”
He shrugged as he took her bag from the coach. “Strangers don’t come to Easton unless they’s shipwrecked. Most folks who’ve been pulled from the sea is so happy to be alive they don’t care so much about their shoes.”
Most probably hadn’t paid as much for their shoes as she had hers.
Alanna reached for her bag. “Thank you for your help,” she said tersely. “But I can manage from here.”
He tugged the bag and brought her a step closer to him. This close, Alanna could see dirt coating his pockmarked face. She could smell the hint of cheap gin and stale fish on his worn clothes. “I notice there ain’t no one here to meet you.”
She remembered how hastily she’d packed her satchel. “My arrival is a bit of a surprise.”
The coachman’s lips twisted into a grin. “That so? I’d be happy to help in any way I can. Name’s Roy Smoots.”
Alanna didn’t miss the implied proposition woven between Smoots’s words. Another time, an other place she’d have reminded him of his place. But, as he’d said, she was alone. “No, thank you.”
She yanked her bag free, stumbling back in the slippery mud a step before she caught herself, her derby-style hat slipping over her right ear.
He laughed. “Sure I can’t help?”
Righting her hat, she said, “Just tell me where I can find Rosie’s Tavern.”
The coachman didn’t look offended, but more amused. “A half a block down the street. I’d be happy to show you.”
“Don’t trouble yourself, Mr. Smoots.” Alanna stepped through the thick mud, cursing her ruined shoes.
Mr. Smoots fell in step beside her. “No trouble at all.” Ignoring him as best she could, she stepped onto the boardwalk and stamped the mud from her shoes before she started down the sun-baked planks. Her bag thumped into her heavy skirts with each step.
The tavern was a two-story building marked by a faded wooden sign with black scripted letters that spelled Rosie’s below a faded red rose. The sign and building looked just as weary as the rest of town.
Alanna reached for the rusted handle. “Mr. Smoots, when does the next coach leave Easton?”
Mr. Smoots’s grin widened. “I leave at first light.”
“Book a seat for me. I’m leaving this town as quickly as I can.”
“Sure thing, miss.” He cackled. “So what you doing tonight?”
Alanna ignored the question as she shoved open the tavern door. She paused, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light. Sea spray and grime clouded the inn’s small windows and blocked out the noonday sunshine. Around the room, two dozen fishermen stared at her over their tankards. Most had full beards and skin as weathered as the boardwalk.
The seamen’s whispers buzzed around Alanna’s head and their gazes darkened with a dangerous hunger. Her palms began to sweat in her kid gloves and for the first time she realized just how truly alone she was.
These were the kind of men Caleb had sailed with. Though he’d respected his men as sailors, he’d always been careful to keep them away from Alanna. And now she understood why.
Mr. Smoots circled his fingertip on her shoulder. “Sure you don’t want ol’ Roy’s help?”
Alanna flinched and pulled away. “No, thank you.”
He leaned so close that she could feel his hot breath on her ear when he spoke. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Mr. Smoots brushed past her, knocking her shoulder with his as he moved toward a table in a darkened corner where three other sailors sat. He said something to the men and they all laughed as they stared at Alanna.
Alanna could feel her courage slipping. When she’d received Caleb’s terse message days ago the urge to right old wrongs had burned hot. Time and fear had cooled the fire in her.
The barkeep, a burly man with a belly that hung over his belt, looked up from the glass of gin he was pouring. Surprise flickered as the barman set down the bottle and moved from behind the bar toward her.
Lantern light flickered on the white strands of the barman’s red beard and a gold loop hung from his left ear, winking in the lantern light. His crooked nose looked as if it had been broken more than once. He grinned as he wiped his hands on his soiled apron. “Name’s Sloan. Can I help you?”
Alanna’s mouth felt as dry as cotton as Sloan’s gaze slid up and down her body. Her fingers clamped tighter around the handle of her valise. “I’m looking for Captain Pitt,” she said in a soft voice.
All traces of humor vanished from Sloan’s face. “Who’d you say?”
Just speaking Caleb’s name left her edgy and restless. “Caleb Pitt,” she said in a louder voice. “Do you know where I can find him?”
The tavern room went deadly quiet and the men who’d been staring at her looked away.
Sloan’s eyes narrowed. The innkeeper studied her and she had the sense that she was being tried and judged. She wondered briefly if Caleb had told him about her. The old Caleb was a man who’d always kept his own counsel, but the new Caleb was a stranger to her.
“He ain’t in town,” Mr. Sloan said.
The tension that had been knotting her muscles frizzled into anger. “I thought he lived here in town. He listed Easton as his address.”
“He lives here sometimes, but he ain’t here now.”
“Then where can I find him?”
Mr. Sloan nodded toward the front door. “It’s best you leave.”
Alanna couldn’t go back to Richmond, not when she was so close to settling matters once and for all. “I’ve traveled too far to turn back.”
The innkeeper started back toward the bar. “Cut your losses. Leave.”
Alanna lifted her chin up. “I’m sure someone will tell me where I can find the captain if I wait long enough. I am willing to pay,” she said a little louder.
Alanna looked around the smoky room. Slowly, the men started to talk among themselves, and she had the distinct impression she was their topic of conversation. A minnow among sharks, she thought vaguely as she tapped her foot and counted the seconds until she could leave.
She moved into the room, aware that Mr. Sloan watched her as she walked toward a chair at an unoccupied corner table. Sloan hurried across the room. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Sitting down.” She nodded toward a wobbly chair. “Aren’t you going to pull back my chair for me?”
At first Sloan stared at her. Then, sighing, he yanked the chair out from under the table. “Rest your bones a few minutes, and then I want you gone.”
Alanna gifted him with her best smile and sat down, her back to the wall. She took a moment to adjust the rich folds of her velvet skirts.
Bracing a hand on the back of her chair, he leaned forward and said in a low voice. “I know who you are and I can tell you that the captain don’t want anything to do with you. Do yourself a favor and leave the past buried.”
Heat burned her cheeks and stomach. How many times had she prayed the past would just go away? But each time happiness was within her grasp, bitterness and anger spawned by a thousand unanswered questions swept it away.
Unshed tears burned her throat. “I’ve no choice in the matter. I must find Captain Pitt.”
Mr. Sloan shook his head as he straightened. “Too bad.”
Alanna almost laughed at the irony. For two years she’d avoided the idea of facing Caleb. Now when he was so close, she met one roadblock after another, almost as if the fates didn’t want her to see him.
She folded her hands in her lap. “I’m not leaving until I see him.”
The innkeeper shook his head. “It don’t work that way here, missy. You tell me what you want, then I’ll decide if I talk.”
Sighing, she realized she’d have to give Sloan a little information. “My father passed on recently. He left the captain a package, and I’m here to deliver it to him.”
“What kind of package?”
Alanna pulled a small teak box from her cape pocket and set it on the table. It measured six inches by six and was fastened tightly with a polished brass lock. It was the same box her attorney had mailed to Caleb, the same box he’d returned. “This kind.”
A bit of the wariness faded from Sloan’s sharp gaze as he stared at the box. “Give your parcel to me. I’ll run it out to the island the next time I take the captain’s supplies.”
Alanna remembered Caleb’s terse response to her letter. I want nothing from you or your father. We are finished. The fire that had driven her hundreds of miles from home burned anew. “I intend to deliver it to him myself.”
The creases in his leathery face deepened as his eyes narrowed. “Ain’t this desire of yours to see him a little late?”
So, Caleb had told Sloan who she was. Defensive, Alanna raised her chin. “There are things you don’t know.”
Mr. Sloan shook his head as he appraised her. “You’re trouble.”
“If you think your unwillingness to help will chase me away, you are very wrong. One way or the other, Mr. Sloan, I’m going to see the captain.”
“Suit yourself, but you’ll get no help from me or anyone else in this village.” He turned and walked away.
Alanna rose, her napkin clutched in her hand. “Mr. Sloan!”
“You won’t find anyone to take you.”
“I’ve no intention of causing trouble for the captain.”
He waved away her words.
Frustrated, she glanced toward the bar where five seamen openly stared at her. In a voice loud enough for all to hear, she said, “I need someone to take me to the barrier. And I’m willing to pay.”
Realizing she’d addressed them, the sailors dropped their gazes into their tankards.
“None of them will do it,” Sloan said from behind the bar.
“I just want to give him this box, then I will leave him in peace.”
“Leave the captain alone,” a sailor shouted.
“Aye, he’s a fine man who don’t need the likes of you messing up his life,” another sailor said.
She stared at the roomful of grim faces. “I mean him no harm.”
“Go away,” several sailors shouted. Shocked by their anger she turned to Sloan. “I just want to give him this box.”
Sloan shook his head. “Since the captain’s been manning the lighthouse, he’s saved a lot of lives. Everyone in this town can claim a friend or relative who’s been rescued by the captain. That’s all anyone in Easton cares about. I can tell you now no one will take you to the captain.”
She opened her mouth, ready to argue, when she caught sight of a seaman moving away from the bar toward her.
The man was a weather-beaten old salt who wore loose-fitting pants, a stained shirt and pea jacket that smelled of fish. He’d tied his long gray hair at the nape of his neck with a piece of frayed rope and sported a bristly beard that reached halfway down his chest. “You really looking to go to the outer banks?”
Alanna hesitated. Rougher than Mr. Smoots, the man looked like a pirate and likely had the morals of one. She wouldn’t have considered his offer if she weren’t in such a hurry to return to Richmond. “Yes.”
Sloan’s scowl darkened. “Get back to the hole you crawled out of, Crowley. The lady don’t need your help.”
Alanna bristled. “Don’t listen to Mr. Sloan. I do need to book passage to Barrier Island.”
The seaman set his half-full tankard of ale on her table and sat down. “Let’s talk then.”
Sloan cursed. “Don’t be a fool, lady. This ain’t the kind of man you want to deal with.”
Alanna took her seat. “Thank you, Mr. Sloan, but I can take care of myself. You may go now.”
Sloan stared at her. “You is as hardheaded as Caleb says. Fine, go with Crowley. You two deserve each other.”
Alanna’s heart pinched. Caleb had said she was hardheaded? She wanted to ask Mr. Sloan what Caleb had said about her, but pride wouldn’t allow it. Working the tightness from her throat, she shifted her gaze to Mr. Crowley. “Can you take me to the outer banks, Mr….”
The old man stared at her as he sipped his ale. “Ain’t no Mister. Just Crowley.”
“Alanna Patterson.” She was grateful her voice sounded steady.
“I’ll take you across the sound, if you’re paying.”
Alanna tightened her hand around her reticule next to her plate. “I’m offering two bits.”
Foam from his ale clung to his mustache and beard. “Make it five dollars.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Five dollars! I don’t have that kind of money!”
Crowley eyed her rich cape trimmed with a thick brocade border. “Fine. Find someone else.” He started to rise.
Alanna knew he was likely her last chance to see Caleb again. Clearly no one else in town was offering help and soon she’d be married and there’d be no going back. She dug out a rumpled bill from her purse. “I’ll pay you one dollar.”
Crowley paused. “I can’t hear you.”
Fearful others would hear she carried cash, she lowered her voice. “All right, two dollars. But it’s all I have left.”
He sat back down. “Done.”
Alanna pushed the dollar across the sticky table toward him. “I’ll give you the second dollar when we return.”
She thought he might balk at the condition as he took the bill and sniffed it. Satisfied it wasn’t counterfeit, he tucked it in his pants pocket. “Deal. My boat’s called the Sea Witch. She’s moored on the docks alongside the other boats. Meet me there in the morning.”
“I can’t wait that long. I must return to Virginia tomorrow.” Tension crept up Alanna’s spine, goading her to explain. “I have appointments I must keep.”
In truth, Henry had forbidden her to talk about Caleb. If she weren’t back by Friday when Henry returned from his trip to New York, he would realize where she’d gone and follow. He’d be furious.
Crowley shrugged. “Meet me at the docks in thirty minutes.”
“I’ll be there.” After Crowley strode out of the tavern, Alanna wrapped the box in oilcloth and shoved it in a side pocket of her cape. She closed the flap to the pocket and fastened the single button closed.
Soon, she’d be standing face-to-face with Caleb. Her stomach churning, she consoled herself with the idea that this time tomorrow it would all be over.
“You ain’t planning on sailing with Crowley, is you?” Sloan’s sharp voice made her head snap up.
Alanna bristled at his tone. “As I said before, it’s none of your business.”
A hint of worry deepened the lines around Sloan’s eyes. “Even a woman like you don’t deserve the likes of Crowley.”
Pride had her digging in her heels. Since her father’s suicide a year ago, she’d grown accustomed to taking care of herself. She’d faced down creditors, seen precious heirlooms sold and watched her world crumble. “Thank you for your advice. But I can take care of myself.”
“Go home where you belong.”
Unsettled, a part of her wanted to explain this journey was the hardest she’d ever undertaken. She’d lost weight, not slept well in weeks. She simply wanted to be free of the past and memories of Caleb once and for all.
But she didn’t say any of those things. Sloan was right. She didn’t belong here. And the sooner she completed her task, the better. “I’ve come too far to turn back now.”
Chapter Two
A lanna walked the two blocks to the piers jutting into Currituck Sound’s restless waters. On the sandy shore, she watched shallow-bottom boats tied to the docks, bobbing like corks in the black-green water. Their sails were lashed to the masts, a sign that the fishermen expected bad weather.
Never in a hundred years would she have pictured herself standing here waiting for a boat to take her to see Caleb.
Her love for Caleb had been like a wildfire, brilliantly hot, overpowering and destructive. What they’d shared, no matter how delicious, was not meant to last.
Yet, here she stood.
Henry had been asking her for months to marry him, yet she continued to put him off. Finally, she’d accepted. She had a wonderful man in Henry. He’d remained at her side after her father’s suicide and had begun courting her when none of her old friends would receive her.
Henry checked on her daily, he worried over her and made her feel safe. If she married him, he would see to all the details. She’d never have to worry about money again and her life would return to what it once was—petted and secure.
So why hadn’t she said yes?
She turned to the sound. The bits of sunshine that had peeked through the clouds moments ago had vanished. Erratic winds swooped through the reeds trimming the shoreline, making them sway and bend. An osprey flapped its wings and landed in its nest atop a wind-stunted oak.
The weather was closing in. She and Crowley would have to move fast if they were to make the journey before the storm hit.
It seemed even the heavens were warning her to keep away from Caleb.
“Best we get moving,” Crowley said as he brushed past her.
Alanna watched the old man limp down the peer. He seemed confident enough about the weather and making the crossing. After all, if it were too dangerous he wouldn’t make the journey, right?
Determined, she picked up her valise and stepped onto the pier. Bracing her feet she accustomed herself to the movement. Water lapped against the moorings as she tiptoed down the dock, careful not to get her heels caught in the wide openings between the boards.
The vibration of her footsteps had Mr. Crowley raising his head from the rope knot he was untwisting. He snorted. “Hurry up. We ain’t exactly got all day.”
She stared at his vessel that was as weather-beaten as her pirate captain. Her sail was patched in a half-dozen places and water sloshed over the bottom. “Is there supposed to be water in your boat?”
Crowley unfastened the rope from the dock. “The Sea Witch is an ocean-worthy gal and she’s never failed me.”
Doubt had her lifting her gaze to the sound. A handful of whitecaps dotted the waters. “The water looks rough.”
He shrugged. “I’ve seen worse.”
She nibbled her bottom lip. “Would it be better if we waited an hour or two?”
“Women. Couldn’t make up their minds if their lives depended on it. I thought you was in a rush? Look, if you don’t want to go that’s fine. But I’m not giving your dollar back.”
Her gaze lifted to Caleb’s lighthouse on the north end of the outer banks. It seemed much, much closer. The guilt and anger she’d carefully kept locked away for two years pounded at her heart. She was so close. “I have to go.”
“Then the water’s calm enough.” His eyes narrowed. “You bring the money?”
“I’ll give it to you when we return.”
“Fair enough.” He twisted his thin lips into a half smile. “Don’t worry, the Sea Witch will serve us well. Now if we are going to shove off we best do it now.”
Now or never.
Alanna handed her valise to Crowley who tossed it toward the bow of the boat. It landed in a puddle of water on its side. “Would you please right my bag? I don’t want my things getting wet.”
He didn’t spare the bag a glance. “With these waves and wind, we’ll both be soaked by the time we reach the banks.”
Alanna hesitated. Was anything to go right on this journey?
“Move your fanny!” Crowley said.
Sighing, Alanna lifted her hem. Careful not to snag her skirt, she climbed down the small ladder into the boat’s damp bottom. The dinghy wobbled from side to side as she clung to the ladder. It was one thing to look at the boat from the dock, quite another to stand in the leaky vessel. She doubted she’d have let go of the pier if Crowley hadn’t pulled her roughly onto a wooden plank seat.
“Women and the sea is a bad mix,” he muttered.
The rocking boat unsettled her stomach. She wished she’d thought to pack crackers or a piece of bread. It still wasn’t too late, she thought in a panic as she stared at the dock. She could leave this wretched place behind.
The box buttoned tight in her cape pocket brushed her leg, a reminder of why she was here. “It’s been a couple of years since I’ve been on the water.”
Crowley studied Alanna’s white-knuckle grip on the side of the boat. “You ain’t gonna panic or worse start crying is you?”
She lifted her chin. “Of course not.”
He studied her an extra beat as if he half expected her to cry. “God save us all.”
The old seaman took his seat across from her, his back facing aft. His knees brushed hers and she could smell the strong scent of whiskey. Gripping the oars, he pushed away from the dock.
Despite his age, Mr. Crowley was a strong rower and within minutes they were a hundred feet from shore. He paused long enough to raise the sails. The boat started moving at a fast clip.
Frigid northeastern winds smelling of salt and sea teased the curls peeking out from her hat and flapped the folds of her cape and skirt. The water grew choppier, and she lost sight of the dock.
Now that they were out of land’s reach, the lighthouse seemed miles away. A wave broke over the bow of the boat, spraying her face with seawater. Sputtering, she wiped her face clean. If the boat were to overturn, no one would be there to save her. She would simply vanish into the sea.
“I hear twenty-three men died when the Intrepid went down in a storm. The survivors say the ship’s boiler blew without warning.”
“Yes, it’s true.”
He snorted. “A good captain goes down with his men and his ship.”
How many times had she heard others in Richmond utter the same thing? Ironically, Caleb’s reputation would have fared better at the inquest if he had died with his men. But Caleb had been blown free of the Intrepid when the boiler exploded. In the maritime world he’d done the unpardonable—he’d survived when his men had died.
And then her father had supplied the reports that stated Caleb had refused maintenance on the Intrepid’s boiler so he could leave port three days earlier. His fatal error had killed twenty-three men.
She’d been so ill those weeks after the accident. Weakened and exhausted, she’d broken their engagement in a fit of grief and fear. Her father and friends had told her over and over that she’d made the right decision. As her health improved and she grew stronger she’d started to question the events surrounding the accident. Caleb had always seemed so careful when it came to his ship.
Her father had discounted her doubts and then without warning he had shot and killed himself in his study. The devastating loss had left her in a state of shock for months. When she finally let go of her grief, she came face-to-face with the reality—her father’s business wasn’t simply in trouble—it was gone. She was penniless.
“What are you to him?” Crowley said.
“An old friend,” she lied, hoping he’d leave her to her thoughts.
Crowley grunted as his narrowed gaze skimmed slowly over her. “You and he were friends? Lovers maybe, but not friends.”
The old man was right. Alanna and Caleb had loved each other; they had laughed together; and yes, they had been lovers, but they’d never been friends. So caught up were they in their attraction to each other, they rarely discussed anything other than the most superficial.
Perhaps if they’d been better friends, he’d have told her more about his business. In the months after the disaster, she replayed their conversations over and over. She’d searched for any clue that might have helped her understand why he’d set sail without repairing the boiler. Dear Lord, if money had been his problem, she would have sold her jewelry for him. But as hard as she thought back, all she could remember were comments he’d made about her hair, her wit or her pretty clothes.
Crowley asked other questions about Caleb, but Alanna offered vague answers, unwilling to talk any more than was necessary. Soon the two lapsed into silence.
As she watched another wave crash over the bow of the boat, her mind drifted to the Caleb she’d known and loved. She’d been drawn to him the instant she’d first seen him firing orders at the men in the shipyard. For the first time in her life, she disobeyed her father and strode out onto the Patterson’s Shipping docks, determined to meet him.
They’d been drawn to each other like lightning to water. From the outset, the passion that had burned between them seemed eternal.
The roar of thunder brought Alanna back to the present. The memories receded but as always they never quite went away.
She’d tried to rebuild her life and suddenly wondered if Caleb had done the same. It tore at her to think of him with another woman. He could well be a father by now. “Mr. Crowley, has the captain married?”
“No.”
A small part of Alanna’s heart eased. “Because of the Intrepid?”
Crowley’s hands tightened around the oars as he dug the paddles deeper into the water. “That’s part of it.”
“Have you seen him lately?”
For a moment he didn’t speak, his full attention on the water. “Been a few months.”
“Does he look well?” She hated her curiosity.
He stared at her as if she’d asked a foolish question. “As well as can be expected.”
“Does he spend most of his time at the lighthouse?”
“He’s a regular hermit.”
Lightning sliced through the clouds. The old man shifted his full attention to the sky that had grown suddenly very dark. Fat rain droplets mingled with the wind and the boat started to pitch.
Alanna’s lips tasted of sea salt. She glanced down at her cold feet and realized the water had risen up to her shoelaces. “The boat is sinking!”
Caleb stared out the lightkeeper’s cottage window, relieved to see the thunderclouds rolling over the horizon. An unexpected restlessness had been building in his bones for days. Normally, he’d have attributed the sensation to the onslaught of bad weather. Reading the weather was an extra sense for him, as much a part of him as sight and touch.
But since Sloan had delivered Alanna’s package last month, his well-ordered world had tipped out of balance.
Caleb’s heart had raced as he’d held the package wrapped in brown paper. With his fingertip, he traced A. Patterson emblazoned in the upper left corner.
“Who is she?” Sloan had asked.
Caleb’s lips twisted into a grim smile. “How do you know it’s a woman?”
“Your jaw’s so tense it’s liable to snap.” Sloan grinned. “And a man don’t fondle another man’s package.”
Caleb grunted. “We’ve supplies to unload.”
Sloan didn’t move. “So who is she?”
Caleb wondered if fire still spit from Alanna’s jade-green eyes when she was angry; if her hair still spilled down her back like spun gold. “Nobody.”
Sloan rubbed his bearded chin with the back of his hand. “Right.”
Caleb held out the box. “Take it.”
Sloan looked at the package as if it were hot coals. “What do you want me to do with it?”
“Throw it in the sea for all I care.”
“No note?”
Caleb had been cheated out of his last confrontation with Alanna and his mind swam with a thousand unsaid words. He pulled a pencil from his coat pocket and on the box’s brown paper wrapping scrawled: I want nothing from you or your father. We are finished.
Sloan accepted the box from Caleb and studied the message. “You loved her, eh?”
Caleb’s head started to throb. “I was cursed by her.”
Since Alanna’s parcel had arrived, the island which had been his sanctuary had become brutally small. He’d paced the shores like a caged animal. He worked as hard as three men, but no matter how much he’d sweat, he couldn’t exorcise Alanna from his mind.
Twice, he’d nearly abandoned his post and rowed to the mainland.
But he’d stayed on guard.
Lightning flashed.
Caleb shifted his focus to the gray horizon. Aye, he’d take a storm over Alanna any day.
He grabbed his coat, shrugged it on and headed toward the lighthouse. With the storm brewing, he’d have to light the beacon.
Crossing the small sandy beach, he entered the base of the lighthouse and climbed the spiral staircase up to the top. Ever ready, he kept the giant Fresnel lenses polished, the lamps filled with oil and the wicks trimmed. And now as the blue sky had vanished behind the thickening clouds, all that was left was to light the lanterns.
Caleb rechecked the lenses that magnified the light for dozens of miles, and then climbed down a small interior staircase that led outside to the crow’s nest, the wrought-iron balcony that ringed the top of the lighthouse.
Wind howled around him as he reached in his pocket and pulled out his spyglass. Opening the telescope, he scanned the ocean horizon. There were no ships and if luck held none would venture this close to the shoals, sandbars that stretched the length of the outer banks, until the storm passed.
The danger of the storm was far from over but as he stared at the endless waters he felt a measure of calm. Unlike his days in Richmond, he was in his element here. He understood storms and he understood the seas. Here actions, not words, solved problems and saved lives.
He moved around to the sound side. He didn’t expect to see a boat. His assistant, Charlie Meeker, had gone into Easton yesterday on a four-day pass. Charlie had sense enough not to brave the waters today as did Sloan, who had only come to the island three days ago to restock supplies.
Only a fool dared these waters today.
And the world was full of fools, he thought grimly as he raised the spyglass on the remote chance that someone would attempt a crossing.
Caleb peered through the telescope lens. For an instant, a slash of white appeared in his scope but it disappeared behind a wave as quickly as it had appeared. A man with lesser experience would have attributed the sighting to a whitecap.
But he waited, holding his glass steady. He understood just how deceitful the sea could be, so he waited.
When waves rolled down, the splash of white peeked above the wave again. There was no mistaking what it was this time—it was a ship’s sail. “Who the hell would be out there today?”
He looked closer. Instantly, he recognized the Sea Witch. Crowley, of course. Like a vulture the man came out from under his rock each time a ship went aground. The old bastard had also done his share of gunrunning and smuggling during the war. But there were no shipwrecks to scavenge. And Crowley never made a crossing unless the money was good.
“What is that old bastard up to?” he muttered.
The waves pitched higher, and the boat bobbed in the water like a buoy. Caleb knew that soon the rains would grow heavy, swamp the boat and capsize it.
“I should leave you to the waters, you old bastard.” Caleb touched the small scar on his temple, remembering his last encounter with Crowley. The bastard had tried to kill him.
Crowley shifted his position to lower his sail, now straining against the wind. That’s when Caleb saw the trim figure of a woman.
An oath exploded from Caleb as he squinted harder. Though wind and fog blurred her face, he saw the crop of golden hair, like a beacon in the storm.
His gut clenched.
There was only one woman he knew who was foolish enough to travel in this kind of weather with Crowley.
Alanna Patterson.
The daughter of the man who’d ruined him.
The woman who’d betrayed him.
Chapter Three
H owling winds filled the sails and tipped the boat dangerously out of balance as waves crashed over the bow. Alanna watched the icy water slosh back and forth in the bottom of the Sea Witch and clutched the boat’s rim as it dipped closer to the briny water. “Mr. Crowley, are we sinking?” she shouted over the wind.
He muttered an oath and hauled himself to his feet using the mast as support. Bracing his feet, he glared at the taut white sail as he unleashed the rope and let out the canvas. The boat righted herself instantly, but the thick sails snapped and fluttered wildly.
“Mr. Crowley,” Alanna repeated. “Are we sinking?”
“Just a bit of water. Don’t get all hysterical on me.”
She lifted a drenched boot. “The water is up to my ankles.”
He shot her a sideways glance. “Then stop your complaining and start bailing.”
“With what?” Alanna searched around the boat but found nothing to use.
“You got two hands,” he shouted.
Fear crept up Alanna’s spine as she cupped her hands and started scooping handfuls of water out of the boat. She glanced up at the blackening sky. “Is the weather getting worse?” She heard the squeak of panic in her voice, but was beyond caring if Crowley thought she was a coward. She was afraid.
“What do you think?” he bit back. “Of course it’s getting worse.” Crowley wrestled the thick, flapping sail as if it were a wild bronco down to the wet boat bottom.
Alanna discovered that despite her frantic bailing efforts the water was getting deeper. “You said this boat was seaworthy!”
“She is. Mostly.” The oars scraped against the oarlocks as Crowley buried them into the choppy water. His muscles bunched and strained as he fought to assert his control over nature.
“Mostly?” Panic burned through her veins. She started bailing again. Oh God, Oh God. What had she gotten herself into? “Tell me we aren’t going to sink.”
“We’re not going to sink.”
“Do you mean that?”
“No.”
Alanna closed her eyes. If only she’d stopped to think this trip through. If only she hadn’t been so impulsive, she’d be safe at the inn or, better, in Richmond.
She remembered how quickly she’d left Richmond. She’d left a note of course, but she’d lied to Henry’s aunt and told her she’d gone to Washington. “No one knows we’re out here.”
A wave crashed into the side of Crowley’s face and he spit out a mouthful of water. “If we sink, it won’t matter who knows what. We’ll die any way.”
She glanced toward the lighthouse beacon. Clouds shrouded the island’s shoreline, but its light flashed bright. “How far is the shore?”
Worry had deepened the lines on the old man’s face. “Too far.”
Her clothes were soaked, and the cold was seeping into her bones. “Do you think he knows we’re out here?”
“If he does, he’ll not raise a finger to save my hide.”
Her teeth started to chatter. “Why not? That’s his job, isn’t it?”
“We had a run-in a few months back.”
Could this get any worse? “What kind of run-in?”
“I tried to kill him.”
Alanna didn’t ask for details. They didn’t matter now.
If she’d worked all day to select the most dangerous of circumstances, she’d not have done as well as she’d done in choosing to cross the channel now with Crowley.
The inky waters filled the boat. The rim sank closer to the water’s edge. A crack of lightning streaked across the even blacker sky.
Alanna’s soaked cape hung on her shoulders like lead and she couldn’t feel her toes. “I don’t want to die, Mr. Crowley.”
Droplets of rain dripped from his wrinkled face. His eyes no longer glowed with anger or frustration, but fear. “Who does?”
Frigid water drenched Caleb’s pants as he shoved the dory into the churning sound. The rowboat bucked in the wind, pushing back toward shallow water as if it, too, understood that only fools went out in weather like this.
“Goddamn you, boat, move!” Frustration ignited his rage. Caleb hated losing. Even more, he hated losing to the sea.
Cursing, he blew out a breath and focused on the set of notches he’d carved into the boat’s bow. The seventy-six portside marks denoted rescues. The twenty-three on the starboard side commemorated each man he’d lost when the Intrepid had gone down not far from these very shores.
He drove the boat deeper into the water and jumped aboard. Taking the oars in his callused hands, he rowed toward the spot where he’d last seen Crowley’s tattered white sails.
“Damn her. Damn her. Damn her,” he chanted as he rowed. “The Devil take them both.” Crowley was a thief and a liar, and Alanna wasn’t much better. Impulsive as ever, Alanna did what was best for Alanna without a thought to whom she endangered.
Anger sidetracked him and, for a moment, he couldn’t find the rhythm of rowing. He drew in several deep breaths. This rescue was like any other, he reminded himself. It was about beating the sea at its own game. It didn’t matter whom he saved, only that he won the game.
Drawing on sheer will, he set his gaze starboard and moved his arms in a steady tempo. One, two. One, two. As the wind howled in his ears, his muscles took over.
Caleb concentrated on the roar of his heart and the burn in his well-conditioned biceps as they pumped the oars. Currituck Sound was determined to make him earn every inch of forward progress today, but he’d never walked away from a fight. Hot sweat trickled from his stocking cap, warming skin chilled by the wind.
A woman’s scream pierced the rain and mist. He turned and caught sight of Crowley’s boat just as a wave crashed over it. The swell caught Crowley broadside and knocked him over the side.
Alanna clutched the side of the Sea Witch but by some miracle she wasn’t swept into the water.
Caleb dug the oars deeper into the water, coaxing more speed from his boat.
No one had been lost since he’d been on watch at the Barrier Island Lighthouse. No one! And he’d be damned if Alanna Patterson would be the first.
“Mr. Crowley!” Alanna’s wet skirts twisted around her legs as she scooted toward his side of the boat and wedged her feet under the seat in front of her. She pushed her rain-soaked cloak off her shoulders and held out an oar. “Grab on!”
Alanna watched the old seaman flail in the water. His hat gone, he smacked his palms against the water, trying to keep his body afloat. But each time he reached out for the boat, the water pushed him back. He dipped under the surface once, then came back up gasping for air.
He reached for the paddle. His bony fingertips brushed the smooth wood as a wave smashed into him and sent him under the surface. Tense seconds ticked as Alanna searched the water.
“Don’t die on me!”
The old man was drowning, and it was her fault they’d come out here. She should have waited until tomorrow. Why hadn’t she just waited?
Mr. Crowley’s head popped to the surface a good five feet from the boat. He gasped for air and spit up a lungful of water. Desperation tightened his face as he reached again for the oar she held out. His fingers dug into the smooth wood like fishhooks and he pulled himself closer to the boat.
Alanna struggled to keep the paddle steady. She strained against his weight and fought not to tumble into the water herself. Her limbs burned from exertion. The cold had sunk to the marrow of her bones. “I can’t hold on much longer.”
He spit out a mouthful of water. “Pull, woman, pull,” he yelled. “I ain’t ready to die yet.”
Her breath was labored, and she fought against the weariness slipping into her bones.
Crowley pulled himself closer to the boat and then swung one hand over the rim. He drew in a deep breath and struggled to pull himself in the boat. “Grab my belt, woman!”
Alanna dropped the oar and reached for Crowley’s thick belt. Angry wind blew rain sideways, but she tightened her numb fingers around the leather and pulled him up. He lifted one foot up on the side of the boat and yanked himself out of the water.
She felt a tremor of elation. He was going to make it back into the boat. He would get them to shore. Everything was going to be fine.
A swell of water from the north blindsided Alanna. The unexpected shove to her overextended body threw her off balance. She tried to right herself but she tumbled over the edge of the boat into the water.
Her open mouth and eyes filled with seawater and for dark, tense seconds, she flailed around, not sure what was up and what was down. Her skirts weighed her down and her lungs ached for air. Forced to tap into energy she’d never known she possessed, she kicked and battled the sea.
Alanna burst through the surface. Her arms smacked against the choppy waters and she struggled to keep her face above water long enough to breathe. Air filled her lungs. She was a strong swimmer, but her clothes made staying afloat in the choppy water next to impossible.
Salt water stung her eyes, blurred her vision. She focused on the Sea Witch. It bounced on the water just out of her reach. “Help!”
Crowley glanced in her direction and scanned the waves.
“Help!” she shouted. “Over here.”
For the briefest instant his gaze locked on her. And then he turned away.
“I’m here!”
Crowley sank the oars back into the water and started to row away from her toward the mainland.
Barely able to stay above water, she raised her arm to signal him. “Help! Mr. Crowley, don’t leave me.”
The old seaman rowed away from her as if he hadn’t heard her plea.
Had the wind drowned out her voice? “Help!”
Please save me.
Her legs and arms neared exhaustion. She started to sink. She gulped in a mouthful of water.
The idea that she might die stoked her anger and made her fight harder. But her fury was no match for the numbing cold. She slipped under the water.
Her lungs begged for air, but she knew the next breath would fill her lungs with water, not air. How long could she hold on? Thirty seconds? Forty?
There was so much she’d done wrong in her life. She should have found it in her heart to forgive Caleb. She should have tried to understand him better. She should have listened more closely to her father during the days before his suicide.
Let me live. I swear I’ll make amends. I’ll never miss church again. I’ll give more time to the poor.
Please, I don’t want to die.
A viselike grip wrapped around the collar of her dress.
Death had come to claim her.
She clawed at the hand and kicked her legs wildly. She would not go into the underworld without a fight.
But her body was beyond exhaustion and Death was too strong. It pulled her through the water.
Then suddenly, she broke through the surface of the water. Air! She sucked in oxygen as rain pelted her face. The hard edge of a boat scraped against her belly before she unceremoniously landed in the bottom of a boat.
Alanna collapsed on her side, coughing. Chilled to the bone, she lay still for a moment as she filled and refilled her body with oxygen. Slowly, her mind cleared enough for her to realize she was safe.
“Mr. Crowley?” she said, her eyes still closed.
“Crowley’s gone.” Anger tinged a raspy voice.
“Where?”
He draped a worn blanket over her shivering body. “Back toward the mainland.”
Her teeth chattering, she clutched the rough blanket with trembling hands. So cold. “He left me.”
“Yes.”
She huddled under the blanket. “Am I dead?”
“No, you’re very much alive.”
She nearly wept with gratitude. “Thank you.”
Black-booted feet braced on either side of her. “Don’t thank me yet. We’re far from safe.”
She opened her eyes. Rain dropped on her face, making it difficult to focus.
Her rescuer’s face was turned toward the lighthouse’s steady beacon, but she could see that he was dressed in a heavy black coat and wore a stocking cap. His shoulders were broad, his legs powerfully built. Large callused hands gripped the oars.
Tears tightened her chest. What little strength remained, the cold now sapped. Struggling to think, she closed her eyes and slipped into unconsciousness.
Caleb glanced down at Alanna. Curled on the bottom of his boat, she was breathing, but she looked painfully small and her blond curls were matted against her pale skin.
She’d need warm, dry clothes soon or the cold would suck the life from her. But for now, all he could do for her was get her to shore.
Caleb set his sights on the lighthouse shore. His body was well conditioned to the hard work but soon the winds would be too much for him.
The dory bumped against the sandy shore thirty minutes later. He jumped from the boat and yanked it onto land. Rain pelted his face as he tied the boat line to the moorings of a small dock.
He quickly stowed the oars in the boat bottom and lifted Alanna into his arms. Even with the weight of her damp clothes and cape, he could tell she’d lost weight. Alanna had always been vibrant and alive, never frail.
The years had taken a toll on them both.
The thought offered Caleb no satisfaction as he hoisted her against his chest and started toward the small white-framed cottage just a hundred yards from the base of the lighthouse. A black shutter had come loose from its lock and banged in the wind against the side of the house. A rooster-shaped weather vane atop the roof spun wildly in circles.
He glanced up toward the lighthouse to make sure the light still burned bright. Satisfied when he saw its steady flash, he strode up the five steps to the porch and pushed through the front door.
Water dripped from his clothes and Alanna’s skirts as he strode down the darkened hallway toward a back room he reserved for the rescued. He laid her on a bed outfitted with fresh sheets.
Caleb pulled off his wet gloves and lit a lamp and then the preset fire in the hearth. He waited until flames flickered, sparked and spit out the first bit of warmth.
He drew back, shrugged off his coat and hung it on the back of a wooden chair before turning his attention to Alanna.
He raised the lantern. Her damp blond ringlets blanketed her face and her gloved fingers were curled into small fists as if she still fought for her life.
He touched her cheek, needing to reassure himself that she was real. Her skin felt cold, but her breathing sounded stronger.
The wet clothes were seeping the warmth from her body and if he didn’t undress her soon, what the storm hadn’t accomplished, hypothermia would.
He set down the lamp on a small bedside table and flexed his fingers. His outrage remained as raw as the day of the inquest—the day she’d refused to see him.
Annoyed, he reminded himself that he’d stripped many a near-drowned sailor. And buttons and bows aside, the job remained the same.
The sooner he set about the task, the sooner it would be over.
Lifting her foot, he yanked at the laces of her boots, then tugged each off and tossed them on the floor. “Why couldn’t you stay away?”
She moaned softly at the sound of his voice but remained unconscious.
Caleb unfastened the clasp at the base of her throat and pulled off her cape, made five times heavier by the water. He was amazed she’d stayed afloat as long as she had wearing the contraption.
Most men or women couldn’t swim, but Alanna’s father had had a healthy respect for the sea and had insisted his daughter learn as soon as she could walk.
And she’d always been a fighter.
There’d been a time when he’d known her body intimately. Touching her had been as natural as breathing. Now he felt like an interloper.
Irritated, Caleb stripped off her clothes as quickly as he could manage. He then grabbed a blanket from the edge of the bed and laid it over her. He tucked the folds around the edge of her slim body and moved her to the other, drier, side of the bed.
An involuntary shiver escaped her lips as if she were finally wrestling the chill from her bone. She looked so small, so helpless.
Caleb stood back and dug a hand through his wet hair. His fingers brushed the rough skin of the scar on the right side of his face. “You shouldn’t have come.”
As he turned to leave, she rolled on her side and curled her knees up to her chest. “Caleb.”
Chapter Four
T he instant Alanna stepped out onto Patterson Shipping’s docks Caleb Pitt had noticed her. He’d also not been happy to see her. Still, Alanna kept walking, drawn like a moth to a flame.
His ink-black pants and cable-knit turtleneck sweater had been as dark as his thick, closely cropped hair. His long, muscular legs had eaten up the space between them in seconds.
“Lady, do you have any idea how dangerous these docks are? Most sailors would eat a pretty thing like you up,” he shouted over the winds.
Undaunted, Alanna had stood her ground. “I’m looking for my father, Obadiah Patterson.” If she thought dropping the company president’s name would intimidate him, she was wrong.
His powerful body blocked the sun as he towered over her. His gaze trailed over her small frame, taking in every detail. “Then you should know how unsafe these docks are for women.”
His masculine scrutiny left her body tingling. “I stand corrected.” Unrepentant, she held out her hand. “Alanna Patterson.”
He pulled off a worn leather glove and took her hand. He squeezed her fingers gently, but she could feel the leashed power in his hand. “Caleb Pitt.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Father’s told me a lot about you.”
“That so?”
She smiled, confident. “Father says you’re rough around the edges, trouble.”
Caleb’s vivid blue eyes sharpened. He leaned close to her. His own scent mingled with the sandalwood of his soap. “He’s right.”
She held her ground. “He also tells me a sea witch blessed you with the gift for reading the seas.”
Laughter sparked in his eyes. “I’m afraid you’ve got it wrong. ’Twas not a sea witch that gave me the talent, but the Devil.”
She feigned shock. “The Devil?”
“Aye. The talent to read the seas and predict storms in exchange for my soul.”
Alanna laughed at his outrageously dark humor. “I’ve never met a man who sold his soul. Tell me, would you like to attend a dinner party Father’s having on Friday? I’d be very interested to know how one goes about bargaining with the Dark Prince,” she’d teased.
“I’d be delighted.” His extra emphasis on the last word made her more aware that with this man she was out of her depth. He possessed an earthy masculinity that, despite her best efforts, left her breathless and blushing.
Alanna’s mind drifted in and out of consciousness and sleep. One moment she was on fire, pushing off her blankets, in the next, she froze, unable to get warm no matter how deeply she burrowed under the rough blankets.
But at all times, she was aware of Caleb’s rough hands touching her damp forehead, brushing the curls from her head or applying a moist cloth. His deep voice was soft and soothing at times and at other times there were hints of anger. If she’d had the strength, she would have reminded him she was the one that should be angry.
When Alanna finally could open her eyes, she forgot the recriminations. All she wanted was to see Caleb, to know that he wasn’t a dream. But through her fever, he remained a dark silhouette, his face shrouded by darkness. The only detail that struck her was that his hair was no longer cropped short. His thick hair, as black as ink, hung past his broad shoulders.
So many things could have been said and all she could think to say was, “You’ve changed your hair.”
He must have thought she’d still been asleep because the sound of her voice seemed to shock him. He drew back slightly. “It’s easier.”
She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue and closed her eyes. She was simply too tired to connect words into sentences. “That’s nice.”
She heard the clink of porcelain against glass and the rush of water. The bed’s mattress sagged when he sat beside her.
“Drink this.” His steady hand lifted her head. He tipped a cup to her dry lips.
She touched his wrist, her hand unsteady. The bitter-tasting drink washed over her dry tongue. It trickled down the sides of her mouth and her neck. “It’s awful.”
“It’s Yaupon tea. It’ll soothe your fever.”
“If it doesn’t kill me first.”
“If I wanted you dead, I’d have let the ocean take you.”
“Of course.”
He pressed the cup to her lips. “Sip slowly,” he cautioned. “There’s plenty.”
“Great.” Alanna drank until the cup was empty, then relaxed back against the pillow.
She was vaguely aware when he dipped a cloth into a basin. She heard the water trickle as he wrung the excess water from it.
He pressed the cool rag against her hot cheeks and forehead. The cold felt good. When her skin warmed the rag, he dunked it again in the water. As he ran the cloth over her naked flesh, she realized that she wasn’t wearing anything. There was no shame, just gratitude that he was there. Methodically, he repeated the actions until her body had cooled. She slept.
Alanna wasn’t sure what time it was when she awoke again, but the room was dark except for the firelight glowing in the hearth.
She was aware of two things. Caleb was still in the room and her thick hair felt greasy and her teeth gritty. “I must look dreadful.”
His laugh was bitter, sharp. Her eyes started to focus on him. “If you’re worried about your appearance, you’ll survive.”
Panic exploded inside her at the thought of being alone. “Caleb, don’t leave me.”
She sensed his gaze on her. “You need to rest.”
“Promise me you won’t leave just yet. I don’t want to be alone.” She sounded weak and afraid and hated it, but there was no hiding it.
A long silence stretched between them. “All right, I’ll stay.”
Sighing, she relaxed into her pillow. Feeling more at ease than she had in months, she gave herself to sleep. “Thank you.”
When Alanna awoke again, awareness of him cloaked the room. She wasn’t sure if she’d been sleeping for hours or days. She was only aware that the rain still pelted the windowpanes. A breeze drifted through the open doorway leading to a long dark hallway.
Her head pounded, however, her skin no longer burned and her brain didn’t feel fuzzy. She was more like herself.
On the bedside table was the box that had brought her here. Its lacquer coating glistened in the pale light.
Alanna tried to sit up, but regretted the move instantly. Her chest, back and arm muscles ached, the pain a reminder of her struggles in the sound. With some effort, she rolled on her side to ease the discomfort in her back. Her body was stiff, as if she’d aged a hundred years in the last few days.
Caleb. Where was he?
He’d saved her life and cared for her. If not for Caleb, she’d have died.
Few men would have gone into the storm to save her. Crowley had left her behind. Henry wouldn’t have had the strength to save her.
When she’d started this journey she’d been filled with righteous anger. In her mind, Caleb had owed her an explanation. He’d owed her an apology. Now, nothing was as clear-cut as it had been. Suddenly, the speech she’d rehearsed and planned to recite seemed juvenile and self-righteous.
Very aware that Caleb was close, Alanna grew restless. She tried to sit up again. Her movements were slower, more deliberate, yet she still winced as she worked her strained muscles and her head spun with another bout of dizziness. Her stomach churned, forcing her to cup her head in her hands.
Slowly her body adjusted to its new position and the spinning calmed. She pushed a curtain of blond hair out of her eyes and surveyed the oversize, partially buttoned white shirt she wore. The shirt was cut wide to fit Caleb’s shoulders and, though clean, his scent still clung to the material. Underneath it, she was naked.
Before when she’d been sick, her state of dress hadn’t mattered. Now she was very aware of it.
Heat rose in her cheeks as she smoothed her hand over the cotton sleeves that hung a good six inches past her hands.
“You’re finally up.” Caleb’s rough voice came from a darkened corner.
Alanna started, searching the shadows for him. “Yes.”
His face was shadowed and she couldn’t make out his features. His long, lean hands rested on the arms of his chair and his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle.
On the floor in front of his chair lay a dog. The dog was part shepherd, part mutt with brown-and-black bristly fur. Toby. He was older, more muscular, than Alanna remembered, but the crimped right ear was unmistakable. Caleb had found the dog when it was a half-starved puppy living under the Portsmouth docks three years ago.
All she could think to say was, “You kept Toby.”
Toby perked up his ears but didn’t leave Caleb’s side.
“Why wouldn’t I?” Caleb’s surprise was clear.
She cleared her throat. “I heard your life got…complicated for a while. I just thought the responsibility of a dog was too much.”
“I don’t run from responsibility.” Challenge edged his words.
She might have argued the point with him if she could have summoned the fire and spit. “I’m glad you kept him. He’s a good dog.”
Caleb rubbed the dog between its floppy brown ears. His gaze made her skin burn.
Uncomfortable, she fastened the top buttons on the shirt. With as much dignity as she could muster she said, “Thank you for saving me.”
“It’s what I do,” he said coolly.
“Of course.” There’d been nothing special about her rescue. He’d been doing his job. The thought that she was no longer unique saddened her. “How long have I been here?”
“Two days.”
“Two days! I am expected in Richmond on Friday.”
“You always had an active social calendar.” Sarcasm etched his words.
Her mind was racing. How could she have slept so long? Lord, she would never be able to explain this to Henry. “I don’t suppose you know where my clothes are?”
“Ruined.”
Panic shot through her veins. “What do you mean ruined?”
“Water and velvet don’t seem to mix, and your underclothes smelled of seaweed.”
And her valise remained on Crowley’s boat. If Henry were going to be annoyed by her tardiness, he certainly would not appreciate her arriving home half-naked. “Do you have something more dignified than one of your shirts that I could wear?”
He studied her a long moment, staring until she felt her cheeks blush. “I’ll scrounge pants and a sweater for you later,” he said finally. Clearly, her state of dress was of no import to him.
His lack of concern annoyed her. It also frustrated her the firelight cast a glow on her, but he remained shadowed. She clutched the folds of the shirt tighter. “Could you find something for me now. It isn’t proper for me to be half-dressed and alone with you.”
A tense silence settled between them. “There was a time when you didn’t mind being half-dressed when we were together. Or have you forgotten?”
With aching clarity she remembered everything about their nights together. Too many nights, she’d lain awake remembering the way her skin tingled when he’d kissed the hollow of her neck, how her heart raced when his hand touched her thigh and the completeness she’d felt when he’d been inside her.
He rose to his full six feet two inches. The dog rose and yawned.
Caleb stepped out of the shadows and for the first time she saw his face. She saw the scar first. Jagged and raised, the scar stretched from the corner of his left eye down over his cheek to his jaw.
Alanna stared at Caleb’s scar in stunned horror and then, hating herself for it, flinched. Her father had spoken in passing of Caleb’s injuries as if they were little more than scratches.
Her father was wrong.
Whatever had happened to Caleb was violent and agonizing.
She shouldn’t have cared that he’d suffered but she did. Tears tightened her throat and several seconds passed before she trusted herself to meet his steely gaze.
Caleb’s eyes were the same, blue as a winter sky, but they were sharper, more direct if that were possible. His shoulders looked broader and his hands larger.
The lines around his full mouth and eyes were etched deeper. He’d tied back his black hair, accentuating streaks of gray at the temples. The rugged masculine features she’d once found so appealing had hardened into a chilling, unrecognizable mask.
The anger drained from her face and she felt as if a soft breeze would topple her over. “Did you get the scar in the accident?”
“Yes.”
“Caleb, I had no idea.”
“Why have you come?” His voice grated like sand against skin.
Color flamed her face. Dear Lord, she should not have come. “I’m honoring my father’s will.”
“What are you talking about? Your father hated me.”
She reached for the box on the nightstand and held it out to him. “This is for you.”
He made no move toward her. “You never listened to Obadiah when he was alive. It’s hard for me to see you traveling so far to see that his last wishes are observed.” He paused. “I can only conclude you came to see me.”
The accuracy of his words goaded her temper.
“Arrogance was always your downfall.”
He nodded his head, acknowledging her statement. “And selfishness yours.”
She stiffened.
A low bitter laugh rumbled in his chest. “Let’s face it, Alanna. The only person you’ve ever looked after is yourself.”
Her fingers tightened around the box. “How dare you!”
“I’m not in the mood for the wounded dove act, Alanna. I don’t want anything from you and especially from your father,” he said. “I’ve already made that clear in writing. Or have you for gotten?”
She glared at him, anger burning inside her. How could he be so ungrateful to the man who had brought him into his company? “Father treated you like a son.”
“When it suited him,” he said tightly.
“He saw that you met the right people and then, after the Intrepid, he tried to protect you.”
Thunder cracked outside. Lightning flashed. For an instant she saw part of his face.
“Is that what he told you?”
“Yes.”
He shook his head. “Obadiah never let truth get in the way of his goals.”
She set the box back on the nightstand. “I was right to cut you off two years ago. The man I knew and loved died with the Intrepid.”
He moved toward the door, and then paused.
“And may he rest in peace.”
Unexpected tears choked her throat. Fury turned to guilt. “Henry was right. This trip was a fool’s errand.”
Caleb’s fingers tightened into a fist. “Henry Strathmore?”
“Yes. And you might as well hear it from me. He’s asked me to marry him.”
His shoulders stiffened. His gaze grew very, very cold. “And you accepted.”
A shiver traveled down her spine. “I haven’t given him an answer.”
“But you’ll say yes.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“You’ll marry him.”
“Don’t pretend to know me or my thoughts.”
As if she hadn’t spoken, he said, “How long was I gone before Henry started sniffing around?”
She watched his jaw tighten, then release, tighten. “Henry has always been a gentleman. He’s always been a good friend to me.”
Challenge glimmered in his eyes. “What’d ol’ Henry say when you told him you were coming to see me?”
The fire seeped from her body. She was silent. As always, Caleb had a knack for spotting weakness.
Caleb laughed, but it held no humor. “I thought so. He doesn’t know you’re here.”
Ducking her head, she touched her fingertips to her temple. It had started to throb. “He doesn’t need to know. He’d only worry unduly.”
“Right.”
As he stared at her, she felt foolish and silly as if she’d just stepped from the schoolroom. Drawing behind years of training, she summoned her most imperious tone. “I don’t appreciate your attitude.”
Abruptly, he sighed, as if suddenly all the fight had fled from his body. “I really don’t care what you think about me or my attitude. As soon as the storm lets up, we leave for the mainland. And then we can put this miserable reunion behind us.”
The dismissal stung. But instead of drawing inward when she was hurting, she did what she always did. She fought.
Ready to stand toe-to-toe with him, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood—too quickly. Her head spun. She was going to black out. Her knees buckled. She started to fall.
Strong hands saved her. For a moment, her heart hammered wildly in her chest. She was so aware of his fingers banding around her arms. Of his scent, and of his deep, rapid breathing.
She wanted only to lean into him, to cry, and make the anger between them go away. And for an instant, she gave in to the yearning and leaned her head against his chest.
His heart beat steady and strong. In Caleb’s arms, she’d always felt happy and secure.
His body stiffened and for the briefest instant she imagined he leaned closer to her, as if inhaling the scent of her hair. His fingers tightened, and for just a moment, she felt as if the clock had been turned back and they were one again.
He must have felt the same way because he abruptly loosened his hold and drew his face away from her.
Alanna wanted to pull away and stand on her own two feet. Even as her head spun, she reminded herself that she needed distance. Distance from him would allow her mind to clear.
He savagely evoked the memories of the last two years. Those struggles had taught her that the security of Caleb’s arms was an illusion. His love had lasted no longer than a puff of smoke or a cloud on a breezy day.
She tried to take a step, but her legs, still too weak to support her weight, wouldn’t allow it. Sucking in a breath, she tried once again to pull away. Still, she couldn’t manage alone.
As if he understood her struggle, Caleb withdrew a fraction. But he didn’t let go of her completely. Like it or not, she needed him right now.
Resigned, she allowed him to guide her down to the bed. She eased back against the mattress, letting it absorb her weight. Lord, but she was tired.
Her eyes closed, she leaned back against the pillow. “My debt to you keeps mounting.”
Keeping his head low, Caleb picked up her bare feet and swung them up onto the bed. He covered her with thick blankets, and then retreated toward the door. “You don’t owe me anything. We’re finished, Alanna.” He left without another word.
Chapter Five
A lanna woke in a panic.
Disoriented, she lurched forward in her bed, gasping for air as if she’d been drowning. Dim light trickled in from a small rain-soaked window, casting a murky glow on the simple room more suited for a monk than a lady. No carpet warmed the neatly swept pine floor and other than the bed and nightstand, the only furniture was a single chest and the rocker by the fire.
The room was a refuge but it didn’t encourage long stays.
And then she remembered. Caleb. He’d saved her from drowning.
Whatever vague hopes she’d had that all this was some horrible dream vanished. She was trapped on these isolated shores with Caleb.
She remembered Caleb had been with her last night. When her fever had been so high, she’d been glad to have him close. His touch had offered comfort, but it had also stirred too many buried feelings.
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