Surrender the Dawn (19 page)

Terror strangled Cassandra’s heart. They’d searched all afternoon for Darlene, down every street, every alleyway, in every shop, inquired at all their friends’ homes.

The girl had simply disappeared.

“Perhaps the night watchmen will find her.” Mr. Dayle’s voice lifted in his usual cheery optimism.

“Perhaps.” Cassandra breathed a silent prayer that felt more like an inward groan. They had alerted the constable who had consequently alerted each watchman to be on the lookout for Darlene during their nightly shifts.

“To think she’s out there alone and frightened.” Cassandra wiped away a tear. “I should be helping them search.”

At first furious at Darlene for being such a troublesome chit, Cassandra had swept through the town like a storm, determined to punish the girl severely when she found her, Then, after the first hour of searching produced no sign of Darlene, fear had crept over Cassandra like a cold fog.

“You’re far too exhausted, miss.” Mr. Dayle turned her to face the house. “I’ll move much faster without you.”

“What am I to tell my mother? I cannot face her.” Cassandra stepped toward the door, hesitating.

Mr. Dayle opened his mouth to respond when voices trickled out the parlor window on a shaft of flickering light. Her mother’s voice. And a man’s. Shaking her head, Cassandra gripped the door handle. She had left her mother nothing but a whimpering, sobbing ball curled up in her bed. Was Darlene home?

Cassandra swung open the door to Mrs. Northrop just reaching for the knob. “I thought I heard you, miss.” She smiled and took Cassandra’s wrap. “The most marvelous news. Miss Darlene has come back to us!”

Flinging a hand to her throat, Cassandra released a hearty sigh. She shared a smile with Mr. Dayle as he closed the door. A male voice that seemed oddly familiar emanated from the parlor. Confusion took over Cassandra’s relief, followed by anger. “Who is here?” she demanded from the housekeeper.

Not waiting for an answer, Cassandra brushed past Mrs. Northrop and stormed into the parlor.

And found Mr. Heaton perched on the sofa across from her mother.

She sat as though a pole had been inserted into her spine. Her expression matched her stiff posture. The air thinned in Cassandra’s lungs. She closed her eyes for a second then opened them, expecting a new scene to appear in her vision rather than the one that made no sense at all.

Before she could inquire as to what was going on, Darlene leapt from the chair beside her mother’s and flew to Cassandra. “Cassie, Cassie!”

Kneeling, Cassandra pulled the girl into her arms and showered her neck with kisses then nudged her back to examine her. No cuts or bruises and only a few stains and tears on her gown. Cassandra’s anger returned. “Where have you been? I was so worried.”

Mr. Heaton rose from his seat as if to explain. His presence filled the
room and ignited a tempest in her belly.

Ignoring him, Cassandra focused on her sister.

“I’m sorry, Cassie.” Darlene thrust out her bottom lip. “I went to get Dr. Wilson for Hannah.”

“Can you imagine, all by herself?” Cassandra’s mother whined. “Oh, my poor head.” She batted the air around her with her handkerchief.

Darlene sniffed and lowered her chin, but Cassandra wasn’t buying her sister’s penitent act. An act Cassandra had perfected when she was Darlene’s age. Standing, she straightened her shoulders. She would have to deal with her sister later.

“Mr. Heaton, what on earth are you doing here?” she asked. “Tell me you didn’t lose the ship. I fear I cannot stand any further disasters tonight.”

“Quite the contrary.” His smile was sincere, lacking its usual sarcasm.

“He saved me, Cassie.” Darlene slid her hand in Cassandra’s and dragged her to the sofa.

Where Mr. Heaton stood.

Too close. Cassandra could smell the sea on him, along with wood and rum and something else that curled her nose. She retreated a step and laid a hand on the back of a chair for support.

“I was kidnapped! You should have seen him make quick work of that villain.” Darlene scrunched her face into an evil twist.

“I had a bit of help.” Mr. Heaton chuckled.

Cassandra’s brows drew together at the affectionate exchange that passed between them. “What vill—”

“Oh, it truly was quite heroic, Mr. Heaton.” Her mother’s words did not match the look of suspicion she cast his way. “We are deeply in your debt.” She picked up her bell. The strident
ding ding ding
only added to Cassandra’s befuddlement.

Mr. Heaton bowed. “My pleasure, madam.”

Circling the chair, Cassandra sank into it before her legs gave out. Mrs. Northrop entered with a tray of tea and her mother’s tonic.

Darlene inched to stand beside Cassandra’s chair. “I got lost, Cassie, and then this evil man grabbed me.” She demonstrated by clutching her arm, eyes wide. “He told me he was taking me to be his daughter.”

“Oh my.” Cassandra leaned forward, hand covering her mouth.

“Then Mr. Heaton fought him off.”

“He did?” Cassandra lifted her gaze to Mr. Heaton. A grin quirked his lips.

“Then I threw a rock at him.” Darlene flung her hand in the air.

“Such behavior for a young lady,” her mother said with scorn as Mrs. Northrop poured tonic into her tea and handed her the cup.

“Your sister has quite the aim. She struck him square on the head.” Luke lowered himself to the sofa. “Reminded me of someone else.”

“Oh, to think how close we came to losing you.” Cassandra’s mother sipped her tea then set the cup down as her eyes misted over. She beckoned to Darlene and the girl dashed into her embrace.

As Mr. Heaton smiled at the scene, Cassandra allowed herself a longer glance his way. Dirt marred his breeches and waistcoat, while black smudges lined his once-white shirt. Gunpowder? Strands of loose hair spilled from his tie, while at least two days’ stubble peppered his chin. His rugged masculinity stole the breath from her lungs. Indeed, he looked more like a pirate than a privateer. No wonder her mother was swooning so.

Waving Mrs. Northrop’s offer of tea aside with a
No, thank you,
Cassandra attempted an even tone, despite the torrent of emotions spinning within her. “That still doesn’t explain what you’re doing in town, Mr. Heaton.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his blue eyes sparking. “I have good news.”

Cassandra swallowed. She needed good news. Mr. Dayle appeared in the doorway. “Hannah is asking for you, Mrs. Channing.”

“Oh, good.” Cassandra’s mother rose from her chair and took Darlene’s hand.

Hannah.
Renewed fear swamped Cassandra. She jumped from her seat. “How is she?” Cassandra started for the parlor doors then turned. “Forgive me, Mr. Heaton, but I’m afraid we cannot entertain guests at the moment. My other sister is quite ill.”

Her mother gave her a reassuring look. “Never fear, Dr. Wilson is with her now, dear.”

Cassandra stared at her in disbelief. “But we can’t aff … How?”

Her mother waved her handkerchief in Mr. Heaton’s direction. “Mr. Heaton brought him along with the medicines she needs.”

Cassandra flinched, shifting her gaze between her mother and Mr. Heaton. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m sure Mr. Heaton will explain it to you.” She turned to face him. “Good evening to you, sir. We are very grateful for your kindness. Mr. Dayle will see you out.”

Cassandra cringed at her mother’s tone—a tone she used to dismiss servants. “In a moment, Mother. I wish to speak to Mr. Heaton before he leaves.”

The matron of the house pinched her lips as she raked Mr. Heaton with one of her disapproving glances. “Very well. Mr. Dayle, please stand by. Darlene, come.” She tugged upon the girl, who cast a final grin over her shoulder at Mr. Heaton.

Mr. Dayle took up a spot just outside the open parlor doors.

Cassandra spun around to face Mr. Heaton. “I am all astonishment, sir.”

“I hear that quite often.” His gaze assessed her.

“But rarely as a compliment, I’m sure.” Cassandra bit her lip, unsure why she was playing the insolent shrew when this man had saved her sister’s life.

But he seemed to take no offense. Instead, he cocked his head and grinned. “Then can I assume your meaning was of the rare kind?”

“Indeed.” Cassandra made her way back to her chair. “I cannot thank you enough for saving Darlene.”

“Do all the Channing women wander about the streets at night?”

“Not all.” Cassandra fingered the mahogany carving on the back of the chair.

He took a step toward her. “When she struck the villain with a rock, I had no doubt she was your relation.” Humor rang in his voice.

Cassandra couldn’t help but chuckle. “Indeed, I fear Darlene is far too much like me.” She gazed up at him and her knees weakened. Weaving around the chair, she quickly slipped onto its soft cushion for fear of falling. “You brought the doctor. How did you know?”

“Darlene told me about her sister. And being familiar with Dr. Wilson, I took the liberty of calling on him. Then together we interrupted the apothecary’s evening meal so he could prepare the proper medicines.”

“I don’t know what to say. I will repay you, of course.”

“There is no need.”

“I do not take charity, Mr. Heaton.”

“You won’t have to anymore.”

Luke reached inside his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a piece of foolscap. Unfolding it, he pressed it on the table. He watched her, anxious to see her reaction at the numbers scribbled across it and totaled at the bottom.

He couldn’t help but watch her.

Her demeanor, her expressions, her words all combined into a fascinating play being acted out before him—a play in which numerous actors skittered across the stage of her eyes. How he longed to see admiration make its debut, perhaps, dare he hope, even ardor.

She examined the paper. Her eyes widened then narrowed in confusion.

Luke could contain himself no longer. “I captured a prize.”

She looked up at him. “I see that.” She shook her head, sending her red curls dancing. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to appear so surprised, Miss Channing.” He laughed.

“Forgive me. I meant no offense.”

Luke reached inside his waistcoat and pulled out a leather sack. Untying it, he counted out her share and laid it on the table.

Miss Channing’s chest began to rise and fall rapidly. She picked up the notes and stared at them as if they were the most beautiful things she’d ever seen. “Ten thousand dollars.” Her eyes met his, shimmering emeralds. “I cannot believe it.”

Luke swallowed down his own emotion and pointed to the document. “We caught the British merchantman
Hawk
and sold her and her entire cargo in Wilmington for one hundred thousand dollars. US customs took twenty thousand, and I split half of the remainder among the crew. I took my share and that leaves you ten thousand.” He pointed to the final number on the document.

“I heard privateering was lucrative, but I had no idea just how lucrative. Do you know what this means to me, Mr. Heaton?” Now, finally, admiration made an appearance in those green eyes. The sight of it set Luke aback, initiating a torrent of feelings he dared not entertain.

He cleared his throat. “I cannot promise you this amount on each voyage. I was lucky. Many privateers sail for months before acquiring a prize.”

She smiled, a genuine, unassuming smile that showered him in warmth. “Where is
Destiny
now?”

“In Elizabeth City to the south. We found anchorage there and purchased horses for the two-day ride to Baltimore.”

Miss Channing sifted through the bills, shaking her head as if she still didn’t believe her eyes. She attempted to speak but her voice choked.

Luke grabbed his hat from the arm of the sofa. “I should allow you to attend to your younger sister. I was sorry to hear of her illness.” He didn’t
want to go—could easily sit here all night staring at Miss Channing—but remembering her mother’s curt invitation to leave, he didn’t want to overstay his welcome.

Miss Channing led him to the front door. Opening it, she followed him outside onto the porch. A blast of evening wind gusted over them, enveloping him in her sweet scent of gardenias. He faced her, light from a lantern hanging on the porch sparkling in her eyes.

She smiled again. “You smell like rum.” Her tone was playful, yet accusing.

Luke cocked a brow. “Yes, I had one drink, my first in nearly three months.”

Disbelief shadowed her face. Then taking a step back, she wrinkled her nose.

He shuffled his boots over the porch, suddenly wishing he’d had time to clean up before seeing her. “My apologies. I just rode into town a few hours ago.”

“Quite all right, Mr. Heaton. How long will you be staying?”

“A few weeks. The crew needs a rest. They’ll get restless when their pockets are empty again.” He glanced over the city, blanketed in darkness, then back at her.

“And you, when will you get restless again?” One side of her lips curved slightly as her gaze probed him.

Which gave him the impetus to toy with her. “That depends.”

“On what?”

If you’ll allow me to court you, spend time with you, get to know you.
“If I have some reason to stay.” When concern creased her face, Luke regretted his bold words.