Blake’s sharp breath and the look in his eyes nearly broke her heart. His eyes were shining; his teeth were clamped together. Within her hand, his trembled and she knew it had been Blake’s rock that her father had carried.
“I found that when I was a boy. I gave it to him one year for his birthday.”
“I buried it with him. I figured if it meant enough for him to carry it around for years, it should go with him.”
He nodded, looked away.
She said nothing more. What could she say? It was up to Blake now. For long minutes, sounds from above trickled in to alleviate the silence. Vincent was bellowing at someone and whoever it was wasn’t happy because he stomped across the deck as though wearing boots filled with mortar. Blake didn’t utter a word, but Alicia took comfort in the fact that he hadn’t demanded she leave either.
Finally, after a long sigh, Blake moved. Shifting to one side, he drew a small key out of his pocket and held it to Alicia. She pressed a hand to his stubbled cheek.
“Are you sure?”
“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asked softly.
“Yes. But is it what
you
want?”
He dropped his feet from the chair, eased her aside so he could pace. “I’m not sure. Part of me agrees that I need to or it’ll haunt me forever.”
“And the other?” she asked, standing.
“The other thinks it’s best to leave it unread. I already know he blames me for Eric’s death, do I really need to read about it?”
“I can guarantee you those won’t be his words.”
Heart racing, Blake passed her the key. “I guess we’ll find out.”
The letter was as he’d left it, and she smoothed the envelope before passing it to him. He took it, but made no move to open it.
“Do you want me to leave you alone?” she asked, already taking a step to the ladder.
“No.” He reached out and grasped her arm. “Stay.”
She did, but while he sat on the edge of the bed, she took a chair at the table. Funny, he thought, how she’d pushed for this, and yet when the time came, she was generous enough to give him some space. Regardless of what his father’s words were, he was no longer angry at him for taking in Alicia. Jacob had treated her injuries, loved her as his own, and because of that, Alicia’s memories were happy ones. Knowing what he did now, Blake was ashamed of how he’d resented his father for that. Wouldn’t it have been worse if his father had let her die? Or if once she was healed, he’d left her to fend for herself at twelve years old?
Blake looked down at the writing on the envelope. He traced the letters with his finger. By the time he started the “M” for “Merritt,” his hand was trembling. The paper rustled in his grip. Annoyed with himself, he turned over the envelope and broke the seal. He was twenty-five years old, for God’s sake, he could read a blasted letter without shaking like a virgin.
Ripping the letter from the envelope, feeling Alicia watching silently from the table, Blake read his father’s final words to him.
To my wonderful son,
I’d hoped you’d never have to read this letter. I’d hoped we could talk face-to-face before it came to this, before stubborn pride kept us apart. If you’re reading this letter, then it means I failed.
I want to make it clear, Daniel (you’ll always be Daniel to me) that this is my failure, not yours. I saw, much too late, that in order to be your own man, you needed to be at sea. I never understood that. Perhaps I never wanted to. I was selfish, son, and I wanted you and Eric at my side, in my shop.
When Eric died, your mother and I were devastated. And yes, I’ll admit for a time, I blamed you. When Anna died, I was still blaming you. It was easier than accepting the truth. But I was wrong, Daniel. I was at fault. Had I left you to follow your heart, Eric would be alive and your mother wouldn’t have died brokenhearted. She never stopped loving and missing you. And neither did I.
I know I gave you the impression that I didn’t love you enough to accept your dreams, or the man you were, but that couldn’t be any further from the truth.
I love you, Daniel. I’ll never forgive myself for depriving your mother of having you in her life and at her burial. I’ll always be ashamed of that and of the last words I spoke to you. I don’t know if you can forgive me, I’m not sure I have any right to ask. Please know I died being so very proud of you. You’re my boy, Daniel. You’ll always be my boy.
I know you hate the shop, but it’s half yours. Yours and Alicia’s. You don’t have to take it, Daniel, but I wanted to give you the opportunity to have it, and to work it, without the pain of the past in the way nor any expectations on your shoulders. I don’t want you there if your heart’s not in it. I won’t make that mistake again, even in death. Know that I’m looking down upon you and am proud of whichever decision you choose to make. You’re a good man, Daniel, and I’m sorry I wasted years not letting you know that.
Your loving father.
A sorrowful wail filled the cabin, echoed off the walls. It wasn’t until Alicia rushed to his side that Blake realized the sound had come from him. He buried his face in his hands, his shame pressing heavily around his heart.
“He’s sorry.”
Alicia’s hand rubbed his back. “I know, Blake. He loved you.”
“Why didn’t I—” He choked on the words, on the truth of them. “Why didn’t I see that?”
But he hadn’t and now it was too late. His father was gone and the opportunity to make amends was gone with him. Jacob wasn’t the only one who’d had time to go back and make things right. Why hadn’t Blake tried again? Why hadn’t he fought harder to make his father understand?
“I can’t say I’m sorry.” His eyes blurred. “I’m too damn late.”
“No you’re not. You can go to his grave, say it there.”
But it wouldn’t be the same. It wasn’t only Jacob who had failed; Blake had as well. And believing that to the depths of his soul, Blake bowed his head and let the tears flow.
The sound of wood scraping against wood drew Alicia’s attention from the fiery sunset. Turning, she saw Vincent maneuvering his crate toward her, his face set with concentration. There were times, like these, when she wanted to scurry over and help him. She’d learned, however, that the crew made little concessions for his size and that Vincent preferred it that way. Instead she watched and smiled.
“I thought you could do with some real companionship,” he said once he’d settled onto the box.
“Nate will be along shortly, then?” she teased.
He placed a hand on her forehead. “Are you feverish?”
Alicia laughed. “Not at all.”
“Well, something must be ailing you if you prefer that big lubber’s company over mine. And whatever it is, we should treat it immediately,” he added with a grin. “The last thing we want is for something like that to spread around and infect the crew.”
“What makes you think it hasn’t already?”
“Because if it had, Nate’s head would be so swollen he’d be unable to get through the hatch.”
Alicia laughed and some of the sadness that she’d carried from Blake’s cabin drifted off her shoulders.
“Thank you, Vincent,” she said.
“For what, darling?”
“You make me laugh. You remind me of home and of Charles.”
“Who the heck is Charles?” he demanded.
“A friend. A friend,” she added when Vincent frowned, “that is happily married with four children.”
“Good,” he nodded. “That’ll save Blake the trouble.”
“The trouble of what?”
Vincent grinned. “Of battling the man for you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Alicia protested, though the thought of two men dueling over her was fascinating.
“It’s not so ridiculous a notion. He’s become very possessive of you. I’m sure if Nate decided to court you, he’d be shot for his efforts.”
Alicia knew Blake would never do such a thing, but she remembered how angry Blake had been when she’d spoken to Lewis and how he’d rushed to be the one to show her the ship when Nate had offered to do it. Her smile bloomed before she could stop it. Vincent’s blue eyes glowed, and he looked very pleased.
“Speaking of the devil, is Blake still in his cabin?”
“Yes.” He’d been down there since reading the letter, long enough for the sun to begin to fold into the sea.
“Then I think he’s wallowed long enough. Why don’t you go take him some supper?”
“He must be hungry by now,” Alicia agreed, trying—with absolutely no success—to look serious.
Vincent chuckled. “I’m sure he is. And don’t worry about the ship. Tell Blake we don’t want to see his face until daybreak.”
Because Blake had missed the evening meal by hours, all Alicia was able to put together for him was some salted pork, a few pieces of fruit, and a cup of water. But since all she really wanted was an excuse to see him, the food was of little importance.
“You didn’t need to bring me anything,” Blake said from where he sat across the bed. “I was going to come up shortly.”
Alicia set the plate on the table. She had no map for what she was about to do and could only hope she wouldn’t make a mess of it, or that Blake would reject her. That, she wouldn’t be able to stand.
“Alicia?”
She swallowed her nerves and moved to the side of the bed, where his booted feet rested. She felt his eyes on her and dared meet them with her own. Then, before doubts could steal her courage, Alicia placed her hands on Blake’s right boot and tugged it off. She held fast to the other foot when he pulled, and though he managed to reclaim his leg, she succeeded in removing his other boot.
She let it fall to the floor with a thud.
Blake was on his knees on the bed. “What are you doing?”
Burnished light seeped through the window. A spear of it crossed over Blake and drew out some copper tones in his brown hair. He’d rolled the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows; broad hands rested on narrow hips. She had to work to create enough moisture in her mouth to answer.
“I thought you’d be more comfortable.”
“I need my boots, Alicia. I can hardly walk the deck without them.”
“You won’t be going on deck tonight,” she said. Then she raised her skirt to her knees and knelt on the bed. There was plenty of room between them yet, but as there was resistance in Blake’s eyes, Alicia didn’t move any closer.
“I have a ship and crew to tend to.” His voice slid underneath her skin.
“I think you have something here that needs tending, don’t you?”
Blake’s eyes widened, and he drew a deep breath. “This is not a good idea. You can’t mean … You don’t know … Oh, hell,” he managed, looking tortured.
Because he didn’t move, Alicia did. It was difficult with the material of her gown tangling in her legs, but she managed to close the distance between them. Then, with no idea what to do next, she simply followed the voice in her heart.
She lifted both hands to his face and skimmed her fingers over the coarse whiskers that darkened his chin and jaw. His cheeks were smooth, especially under his eyes and at his temples. With her fingertips, she eased the creases that lined his forehead, then brushed her hands over his lips.
“You’re very handsome,” she whispered. Leaning in, she replaced her fingers with her mouth. His hands clutched her arms, dug in the sensitive skin as his mouth moved under hers. Empowered by his response, she flicked her tongue over his.
He yanked his head back, breaking the kiss.
“We need to stop this now. I promised myself I wouldn’t touch you.”
“What? Why?”
“Because,” he scowled, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not some tavern wench, Alicia, and you deserve better than to be treated as one.”
“I’d be happy to simply be treated as a woman for once in my life,” she snarled. Fighting the gown that was determined to twist itself around her legs, she scurried backward off the bed. She’d been afraid of rejection, hadn’t thought she’d be able to stand it, but it went past that.
She was furious.
“Why is it so hard for a man to see me? I care about you, Blake. I fussed with my hair, put on a dress, and you’re telling me that it’s still not enough? You won’t touch me for fear of treating me like a wench? Well, Blake,” she raged, yanking the pins from her hair and letting it spill down, a task he watched intently, “maybe I’d like to be treated as one. At least then it would let me know that I’m attractive enough for a man to bother with!”
Before she could blink, he was standing before her. He took her hands, grasped them when she tried to yank them back. If he thought he could spew a few trite words that would calm her, he was in for a nasty surprise!
“Stop fighting me, woman, and let me speak. You’re beautiful. I thought so from the first time I saw you.”
“You hated me, Blake. It was written plain on your face. Just like now it’s pity.” She shoved at him with her shoulder. “Let me go. I need some air.”
Keeping their hands together, Blake took two steps and backed her into the wall, pressed his weight against her. “You’ll get some air later. For now, let me talk.”
Because her cheeks already burned with mortification, Alicia kept her tongue. The sooner he said his piece, the sooner she could escape this debacle. Nodding at her when she said nothing, Blake continued.
“You tempt me, Alicia, more than you know,” he muttered. “But I don’t want to take your innocence and hate myself for it in the morning.”
“Your sacrifice is duly noted,” she growled. “Now let me go.”
He sighed. “You’ll thank me for this later.” He released her, took a step back.
Alicia saw red. With both hands she came at him and shoved hard.
“What the hell was—”
“You don’t know anything about anyone but Blake Merritt, do you? You think I’ll thank you tomorrow for taking the moral road? Well, I won’t. And don’t you dare,” she rumbled, “look at me with compassion.”
He scowled. “Well, how the hell would you have me—”
“Stop being selfish! Your father didn’t see eye to eye with you so you walked away for eight years? Now you turn your back on me because you think it’s what’s best for me? I’m surprised you haven’t run on deck yet. Why, surely Nate and Vincent are going to run the ship to ground without you there to guide them.”