He unloaded the two remaining cases and set them on the beach. “I didn’t go back for the wine.”
“Then what?”
He reached under his coat and pulled out her purse. He laid the purse in her hand. “This.”
“Why would you take such a risk?”
“I’m assuming there were no trunks to be found in the hold of the ship.”
She fingered the mother-of-pearl design. “No, there weren’t.”
“Then you hold all the connections to your past.”
“Why?”
“You’ve a chance for a fresh start now, Rachel.” His expression was unreadable. “Didn’t you say it had all your money?”
“Yes, it does.”
He moved closer to her. “Open it.”
Tearing her gaze from his, she snapped open the purse. Tucked inside were the wet bills and the volume of poems her mother had given her.
He glanced at the purse. “It should all dry in the sun.”
Tears sprang in her eyes. “This is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
He lifted his gaze to hers. They’d darkened with an unreadable emotion. Slowly he leaned forward until his lips almost touched hers. “I want you to stay,” he said, his voice hoarse. “But I want you to have a choice.”
He brushed a curl from her face. Her smooth skin felt so good against his skin. For a moment they stood on the shore, her skirts moving in the breeze, flapping around his legs. He cupped her face in his hand.
Ben leaned his head forward. He was going to kiss her.
She didn’t pull away. The kiss was gentle and undemanding yet it rattled his senses. His body craved more.
She pulled back. “What do you want from me?”
“Stay for a while. Let’s see what there is between us.”
She twisted one of the shawl tassels around her finger. “I can’t make promises to you and I don’t want you to make any to me in return.”
A smile tipped the edge of his lips. “My promises come with no strings and I give them as I see fit.”
As the sun dipped into the horizon twenty miles north on the tiny Virginia costal town, orange-red light splashed over the piers jutting out from the mainland into the ocean. The fishermen, returning from their twelve-hour day at sea, were in good spirits. The catch had been unusually high.
All the boats had returned to port except one— Marcus Smith’s. He’d gone out farther today than the other fisherman because he’d wanted to double his catch.
A few fishermen had started to whisper that Marcus might have run into trouble. Boats capsized and fisherman died on clear days.
However, Marcus’s older brother didn’t listen to the whispers. He had already unloaded their catch for the day. His stomach grumbled and he wanted to get home to his wife. But the brothers had made a pact years ago—they went home together each night.
When Sam spotted Marcus’s boat sails, it was past five o’clock. His brother waited until the fishing boat scraped alongside the dock and he could see with his own eyes that his brother faired well until he released a sigh.
“Ahoy, there,” Marcus called. “I’ve found a man!”
The fisherman didn’t hurry. Sailors had been found before floating in the ocean. The Atlantic’s graveyard claimed many a tall sailing ship.
Sam strode to the end of the dock. Hands on hips, he looked down and studied the man lying in the bottom of the boat on a pile of fish. “Is he dead?”
Tying his boat to the pier, Marcus shook his head. “Wasn’t the last time I looked.” He nudged the large man with the tip of his boat. “Takes up too much space, if you ask me. I could’ve caught more fish if I hadn’t found him.”
Seaweed coated the unconscious man’s black beard and his blue jacket now torn at the shoulder. He coughed and sat up with a jerk.
The stranger swung at Marcus’s booted foot. “
Merde.
God’s curse on you all!”
The brothers nodded. “Alive.”
Marcus poked the man again. “Fine talk. I just hauled your worthless ass out of the water.”
The man spit. “I might as well be at the bottom. My ship’s gone.”
Marcus’s back ached and he had little patience. “Ships are lost in these waters all the time. You should have been more careful.”
Sam offered a hand to the stranger. He wanted to be done with him. “What’s your name?”
The man accepted it and climbed up onto the pier. “LaFortune. Captain LaFortune.”
A
n hour later Rachel stood on the back porch, watching Ben stride toward the boathouse. Cold sea spray misted her face. The wind flapped her skirts.
His sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong forearms. Muscles bunched and strained as he shoved the boat into the boathouse. The boat looked heavy, yet he moved it with ease.
He’d sent her back to the cottage promising to meet her inside soon. She’d wanted to stay on the beach but understood he had work to do…and she needed to keep her distance.
She glanced down at the soaked purse. Deep conflicting emotions ran through her body.
Ben had given her a gift more valuable than diamonds.
Her father would never have considered him as a suitor. In fact she wouldn’t have, either, two years ago. In those days money and social position had seemed so important. She’d learned since then that money and smooth manners could hide a lot of sins.
However her sentiments for Ben went beyond gratitude. He evoked emotions she could not quite define. Seductive and dangerous, warm and tender, her newfound feelings left her afraid and excited.
Like it or not, she cared for him.
Ben tied the boat down and closed up the shed door, taking care to secure the lock. Before Rachel, he’d have spent the several hours before his shift working. Now, he wanted to spend the time with her.
He saw her standing at the kitchen window. Walking faster, he moved across the yard and into the house. Anticipation warmed his blood. The aroma of coffee greeted him.
“You must be frozen to the bone,” she said. She stood by the stove peering into the large coffeepot.
The wind had blown her hair free of the ribbon at the nape of her neck, leaving wisps framing her face. The shorter style suited her. She looked much younger. Carefree almost.
For the first time, the cottage felt like home. “I’m used to the cold. Is that coffee?”
“It’s the same from this morning but I’ve managed to warm it. Though it’s so strong you might need a take a fork and knife to it.”
“That kind of coffee builds character.” He saw the purse lying on the table. His gaze scanned the initials on the handle. R.E. “You should open the bag. Let the bills dry.”
She nodded. “You’re right. I’d meant to open it, but it took me longer than I thought to stoke the fire to heat the coffee.”
He accepted the cup she offered. His fingers brushed hers. “Have you ever laid a fire in a stove before?”
“No,” she said, laughing. “Luck led me to the kindling trap and glowing embers.”
He watched her move to the table. He waited, expecting something. What that something was, he couldn’t say.
She pulled out the roll of bills and a small leather-bound volume. She reached not for the bills, but for the book. Salt water stained the leather-bound cover and the pages had all but dissolved into each other. Gently she opened the book. It was ruined.
Rachel tipped back her head. To his surprise he saw tears pool.
“What is it?” he said.
“A book of poems.” She wiped away a tear.
He stared at her, baffled by her sadness. “Your money seems to be all here.”
“Yes.”
Any practical-minded woman would see that the money was paramount. “You’re crying.”
She turned her face from his. “I’m not.”
He laid a land on her shoulder. “I don’t know much about women and their emotions, but I know crying when I see it. What’s wrong?”
“I’m being silly. It’s just that I loved this book.”
He glanced down at a soggy volume. “You can buy others one day.”
She gently turned a soggy page. It tore. “It wouldn’t quite be the same.”
“A book’s a book.”
“It was a gift from my mother. She gave it to me on my twelfth birthday. The cancer took her just months later.” Rachel reverently closed the book. “I’ve read a poem in the book every day since. It’s a great source of comfort. I can’t believe that I hadn’t thought about it these last couple of days.” She gently laid the book on the table. “This book was my only friend at times.”
“Why were you so alone?”
For a moment she stood silent, staring at the book, then she stared up at him, her eyes liquid sapphires. “Kiss me.”
“What?”
“Kiss me.”
He took a small step toward her, closing the gap between them. He waited, ready to back off if she looked skittish.
But she didn’t back away. Her gaze lifted to his lips. She was curious about him. “I want to taste you again.”
Ben needed no further encouragement. He tipped her chin up as he lowered his head toward hers. She closed her eyes. He hovered close to her, his lips only inches from her. Lord, but he liked just looking at her. Slowly he closed the inches between them and pressed his lips to hers.
She tasted sweet. Like nectar. And he quickly discovered that one chaste kiss would never be enough. He banded his hand around her waist and gently pulled her close. He deepened the kiss. She melted against him, her arms wrapping around his neck.
He struggled to keep a rein on his desires. He wanted nothing more than to take her to his room and drive into her.
She rose up on tiptoes, sliding her long fingers into his hair.
He hugged her closer to him. He coaxed her lips open with his tongue and explored the soft folds of her mouth.
A soft, mewing sound rumbled in her throat. His body hardened in response. He’d never wanted a woman more than Rachel.
But the mysteries surrounding Rachel hovered in his mind. He wanted to pretend the past didn’t exist but the unknown cut through the haze of desire. His body still raged for her, but his mind rebelled.
As much as he wanted her, he sensed if he took her now he’d lose her.
He broke the kiss.
He kept his hands on her narrow waist, but put a few inches between them. He stared at her closed eyes and her lips still moist from the kiss.
Her eyes fluttered open. Embarrassment colored her cheeks when she realized he was staring at her. Slowly, she unwound her hands from around his neck. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” His voice sounded ragged.
“Then why did you stop? Am I not good at this?”
Dear Lord, didn’t she realize she had the power to make his knees weak? “I want you to kiss me because you want to, not because you’re trying to shut me up.”
She blinked stunned. “I wasn’t—”
“You were,” he interrupted. “And I happily obliged. But it won’t work next time, Rachel. Next
time I ask a question about your past, don’t substitute answers with kisses.” Without another word he left.
The early-morning sun sent light streaming into the kitchen. Rachel swirled the remains of her tea in the white porcelain cup. She’d not slept well last night. She’d dreamed of monsters, Ben and destruction.
The wind scraped a tree branch against the window in the parlor. She started, then felt a fool for having the jitters.
She set her cup down on the kitchen counter. For a few hours yesterday, she’d tried to pretend that the past didn’t exist. Like a fool, she’d heated the coffee as if she had a right to him. She’d even been humming.
But when she’d opened the purse, the past had come crashing back and wedged itself between Ben and her.
Ben had been right. Initially, desire hadn’t driven her kiss. She kissed him out of fear. She wanted to keep the fantasy alive and to forget.
But the kiss had quickly changed from a diversion to something much more intense.
She remembered the feel of his lips against hers. His kiss had been soft, gentle, but she’d tasted the passion that coursed through his body.
He’d wanted more. And God help her, she’d have gladly given him more. His touch made her body sing. He ignited a heat in her that had grown cold long ago.
And then he’d pulled away.
Rachel closed her eyes. Ridiculous to think she could deceive him and herself. She was shackled to a past that would never leave her in peace.
She had her money now. And it truly wasn’t safe to stay. In time someone would get word to Peter that she had survived the wreck. The allure of his wealth seduced everyone eventually. Hadn’t that been the reason she’d married him—for security?
She paced. The sooner she left this place, the better. Ben and everyone else here would be better off once she’d gone. Peter would raze the village if he found her here.
Her mind set, she went to her bedroom to retrieve her possessions. She changed out of the blue wool dress and into her black traveling dress. Folding the blue dress neatly, she laid it on his bed. She tucked the volume of poems in her reticule and stashed her money in her corset.
Rachel paused at the threshold and looked back at the simple room. It had been a haven. If not for Ben and the shelter of this room, she would have died.
Ben’s promises to keep her safe were true and
honorable. But Peter would punish Ben for harboring her and she couldn’t bear that thought.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and closed the bedroom door.
Moving into the kitchen, she pulled on her coat. Once she reached the village, she’d find Ida. Without words, the woman understood her plight. She’d help Rachel.
Rachel glanced up at the lighthouse. Ben had not extinguished the lanterns. The tower light burned bright against the thickening clouds behind it.
She did not like sneaking off like this, but there could be no other way. Ben would try to stop her. And she might very well be tempted to stay.
Turning away, she started down the narrow sandy path that cut through the wind-bent trees. She reached the village in fifteen minutes.
The town was quiet, the streets and the boardwalk empty. Good, Rachel thought. The less attention to her departure, the better.
The weather had shifted since last night. Colder, the wind bit through her coat and chilled her skin. She wasted no time getting to Ida’s shop. The bells above the mercantile door jangled as she entered.
Ida stood behind the counter. She glanced up at her over a stack of canned of peaches. “Morning.”
Rachel moved down the narrow center row lined with barrels of whiskey and sacks of flour and salt. Above her head hung baskets and dried herbs. “I want to thank you for the dress.”
Ida’s gaze swept over Rachel, taking in the black dress. “That why you came?”
“I need to see Sloan about a ride to the mainland.”
Ida lifted a brow. “I thought you might be staying with us for a while.”
Rachel’s stomach clenched. “It’s best that I leave.”
Ida frowned. “All right, I’ll walk you over to his dock as soon as I unpack this box. Have a seat.”
She clutched her belongings. “If you’ll just show me the way. You don’t have to come.”
Ida continued to stack cans of peaches, but her voice had an edge to it now. “Have you talked to Ben about this change of heart?”
“No. He wouldn’t understand.”
Ida wiped her hands on her apron and came out from behind the counter. “He wants you to stay.”
Tightness banded around Rachel’s chest. “I know.”
“He can keep you safe,” Ida said softly.
Rachel didn’t hide her confusion. “You’ve wanted me to leave from the start. Why the change?”
Ida stacked another can. “I’ve seen the way Ben looks at you. He’s not looked at another woman like that before. For the last few days, he’s been happy. That means a lot to me.”
“Ida, someone’s looking for me. He will destroy this town if he finds out you’ve been harboring me.”
Ida’s gaze was as direct as Ben’s. “Ben has weathered some terrible storms before. He doesn’t scare easily.”
“This time he should.”
“This person is no match for Ben.”
Rachel admired Ida’s pride in Ben. “This person is very powerful.”
“Don’t underestimate my Ben. He has never run from a fight. In fact, there are times when I wished he had.” Bitterness coated Ida’s words.
Her shoulders sagged. “Ben deserves more than I can give. I can’t make him any promises. I wish that I could but I can’t.”
“Ben doesn’t except anything from you.”
She remembered the kiss. He’d ended it. He wanted
more.
Ida lifted another box onto the counter. She started to unpack it. “So where will you go?”
Rachel turned and stared out the store’s large, glass front window at the gray sky. At the far end
of the town, a group of children walked from the docks. “I don’t know.”
“Not much of a plan.”
Children’s laughter rang like church bells. Rachel’s heart tightened. There’d been a time when she’d dreamed of children. But that dream, like all the others, would never be. “As long as I keep moving, I will be safe.”
“You’ll be a moving target.”
“I’ve cut my hair and I’ve gotten sun on my face. If I head inland away from the ports, no one will recognize me.”
“You will stick out wherever you go. Poise and quality are hard to hide.”
Ida came around the counter toward Rachel. It struck her then that the older woman was shorter than her. Ida possessed an energy that made her seem so much taller. “Sloan just returned from the mainland with the children. But he’ll make a trip back if you wish.”
Rachel hesitated. Children and parents emerged from the path that led to the Sound. A mother picked up a redheaded girl and swung her around. Both were laughing.
“Mr. Sloan must have left before dawn.”
“Folks were anxious to have their children home.”
“Where were they?”
“They board on the mainland during the week so they can go to school. Sloan brings them back. They’re getting a good education, but the time from their families is hard on everyone.”
“My father sent me away to school after my mother died.” Her days away at boarding school had been long and lonely. Because she’d boarded in New York, she’d been unable to come home on the winter and spring holidays, just summers.
“Ah.” Silence hung between them.
“Why don’t you have a school in the village?”
“There’s no one to teach the children. Most of us don’t have the education to teach them properly. We’ve tried to hire teachers but none wish to live in such a bleak place.”
“This land is rough, but it’s lovely.”