Undaunted Hope (2 page)

“I think you better do as the lady said” came a voice from the shore.

She turned her head at the same time as the deckhand to the sight of the fisherman nearby. He was still up to his knees in water and was in the process of casting out his line again calmly and steadily, as if he hadn't a care in the world.

“Stay out of this, mate,” the deckhand called. “This isn't your business.”

“With the way you're treating the lady, you've forced me to make it my business. Mate.” The fisherman watched his line arch out over the water and then sink beneath the waves.

“I suggest you keep out of things or you'll force me and my mates to make
you
our business.” The deckhand grinned at
his friends as if pleased with his comeback. It was likely the cleverest thing the man had said all year—or perhaps in his life. Nevertheless, Tessa was tired of his antics. It was time to put an end to the situation once and for all.

Before she could knee the deckhand or bite his hand, the fisherman gave a short but piercing whistle between his teeth.

At the sound, the two dogs behind him bolted up. Their pointed ears perked, their snouts lifted, and their eyes riveted to their master. At their full height, with their silver-and-black markings, Tessa could almost believe the dogs were wolves. But their build was stockier, their coats thicker.

The fisherman cocked his head at the deckhands, and the dogs started toward the wharf, baring their teeth and growling.

“Oh, so he thinks he can frighten us with his puppies,” the deckhand said with a guffaw toward his friends.

At the sight of the dogs moving toward the wharf, looking like they would rip flesh from bones, the other two crewmen had lost their grins, deserted their barrels, and retreated back to the steamer.

The fisherman didn't say anything further. Instead he reeled in his fishing line as unperturbed as before. Underneath the brim of his hat, Tessa caught a glimpse of a handsome face, but that was all she had time to see before her captor yanked her forward and positioned her so that she was acting as a shield between himself and the dogs.

Low to the ground, ears back and fangs exposed, the dogs continued to advance. If she'd been a timid woman, they might have frightened her. Yet all she could think about was devising a strategy for freeing herself from the deckhand so the dogs could charge in and chew him up like a piece of rawhide.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the mackinaw.
She'd break loose and leap into the swaying boat. It wasn't much of a plan, but at least she'd be doing something more than standing here and allowing herself to be manhandled.

Before the deckhand knew what she was doing, she bent her head and bit the fleshy part of his hand between his thumb and forefinger.

He yelped and his grip slackened.

She didn't waste any time. She wrenched away and leapt toward the edge of the dock. To her dismay, her feet landed in a wet spot. She skidded and tried to stop, but she found herself tumbling over the side of the dock not even close to the mackinaw.

She hit the icy water with a splash. The sharpness immediately took her breath away. She spluttered as murky waves battered her mouth and nostrils. The water wrapped around her, saturating her heavy linen overskirt along with the fuller underskirt. The weight of the wet material dragged her down, submerging her under the waves.

As she sank, her legs tangled in the floating linen, and she couldn't get the momentum she needed to kick and force herself back to the surface. She flailed with her arms, but the pounding of the waves refused to release her.

Her lungs burned, and she had to resist the instinct to open her mouth for the air that wouldn't be there. Darkness swirled around her. Suddenly all she could think was that her adventure had hardly just begun and she was about to die.

S
he was going to die a watery death. Just like her father had.

Even though her father had known how to swim, and even though he'd taught her and her siblings to navigate in water almost as well as a fish, sometimes swimming wasn't enough.

She'd learned that all too well.

The sea had already taken so much from her, and she wouldn't let it defeat her today. With a desperate lunge, she grabbed at her skirts, trying to free her legs. Her chest seared against her rib cage with the need for a breath as she struggled to push herself up.

At a splash next to her, she reached out, groping, hoping to find help. Her fingertips grazed something. Then a hand shot out, gripped her arm, and heaved her upward until her face broke through the surface. She gulped in air, choking and spluttering as another wave hit her.

Strong arms slid around her waist and hoisted her above the waves, and she found herself staring at the fisherman. He'd
discarded his hat and was now as drenched as she was. His hair was plastered to his head, and water trickled down strong Nordic features—a perfect nose, a strong angular jaw, and a chiseled chin that had the beginning of a dimple in it.

To say he was handsome was an understatement. In fact, she could quite confidently say he was one of the handsomest men she'd ever seen. More than any other feature, his eyes were beautiful. Not only were they wide and framed with thick lashes, they were a startling blue, like Lake St. Clair back home when it was calm in the morning with the sunlight brightening its surface.

“Are you all right?” His brow creased over those mesmerizing eyes.

For a split second she was tempted to answer him,
No, I'm drowning in your
eyes
. But then she thought better of it and decided such forwardness wouldn't put her off to a good start in Eagle Harbor—not that she'd gotten off to a particularly good start anyway.

Instead she sucked another gulp into her air-starved lungs. “I've never been better. Such a friendly welcome.”

One of his brows cocked.

A wave splashed into her face. At the icy touch against her already cold skin, she couldn't contain a bone-jarring shudder. To her dismay, neither could she keep her teeth from chattering.

“Well,” he said, “as much as you're enjoying your welcome, I'll have to insist on putting an end to this party and getting you back to dry land.”

She smiled, realizing it was the first real smile she'd managed in days. She could appreciate quick wit when she heard it, which wasn't often.

He tugged her forward, his hands still on her waist. She re
alized then that he'd been treading water, keeping them both afloat, and that now he was guiding her toward the shore.

Her legs were too stiff from the cold to be of much use. She imagined she was double her normal weight with her skirts and bodice having absorbed at least half the water in the harbor. But he moved effortlessly as if she weighed nothing more than a baby bird.

“Put an end to the party?” she said. “So I take it that in addition to fishing, you have the occupation of being the local spoilsport.”

This time he grinned. It was a lazy kind of smile that showed off even teeth and made him more handsome—if that was possible. Her stomach did a funny flip.

“If you stay in Eagle Harbor long enough,” he said, “you'll learn that I have a reputation for boring people.”

She highly doubted he bored anyone, but before she could toss out a witty retort of her own, her feet grazed the rocky bottom of the lake. Soon she was standing, the water up to her chest now.

His hands fell away from her waist, and he straightened to his full height. She could see that he was no longer wearing the coat and shirt he'd had on while fishing. He was donned only in a thin cotton undershirt that was stuck to his chest, leaving nothing to the imagination. Every rippling muscle and taut bulge was visible. As he stepped forward, his entire body exuded vitality and power.

Close your mouth and stop drooling
, she scolded herself. She attempted to follow him, but her legs were weak and the stones sharp and slippery, causing her to stumble.

At her splash and cry of frustration, he spun. He took one look at her half-submerged form and retraced his steps.

“You wouldn't happen to know how I can walk on water?”
she asked, hoping to cover her embarrassment at her bumbling and gawking. “That might be an easier way to get to shore rather than making a fool of myself slipping over these stones.”

“I know an easier way.” Before she could protest, he scooped her up and cradled her in his thick arms against that muscular chest of his.

For once in her life, words deserted her. She could only stare at his chin, not daring to drop her eyes any lower.

He strode through the rolling waves with ease. When his feet finally reached land, he lowered her as gently as a rare piece of porcelain.

On her feet again, she stared down at herself in dismay. Her lovely emerald skirt with its layers of ruffles was a soggy mess, with some of the lace having been torn and now hanging loose. She smoothed down the short-waisted basque bodice, noting a missing button near the frilly bow at her limp collar, which had been so crisp and white earlier when she'd dressed in her best outfit in hopes of making a good impression her first day in Eagle Harbor.

The fisherman took a step back, and she could feel his gaze upon her, as if he expected her to crumple at any moment.

“Don't worry,” she said, peeling a strand of her dark hair from her cheek and tucking it behind her ear. “I'll be fine in a minute.” If only she didn't look like a limp rag doll that had just washed ashore.

A breeze swept off the lake and brought the nip in the air she'd felt earlier. It seemed to blow right through the wet layers and into her skin, so that her body began to shake.

The fisherman watched her for only a second before bounding toward the place where he'd dropped his fishing pole. He grabbed his discarded coat and shirt from among the rocks.

She could only stand and watch, huddled in a freezing mass of wetness, shivering uncontrollably and hugging her arms in a useless effort to warm herself.

He trotted back to her, his brow once again crinkling with worry. “Where are you staying? I'll help carry your things there.”

“I'm homeless for the time being.” She tried to make her tone light, but a sudden heaviness began to weigh upon her. She'd come to Eagle Harbor hoping to make a new start to her life, but so far nothing had gone any better than it usually did.

He moved behind her and draped his warm wool coat across her shoulders and over her arms, tucking it under her chin before stepping away and putting a proper distance between them.

She wouldn't have guessed a brawny man capable of such tenderness. No one had treated her so kindly in a long time. “Thank you.” She met his gaze and then wished she hadn't when the blue of his eyes captivated her again.

“You're welcome,” he said and crossed his bulky arms over his incredibly attractive chest.

“And of course, thank you for rescuing me.” She hoped he couldn't read her thoughts, yet she had the feeling he could from the way his brow quirked.

“It was my pleasure.” His lips rose in a half grin.

She wished she could have met him when she was at her best rather than her worst. Forcing her attention anywhere but him, she turned and found herself taking in a scene that made her burst into laughter. There sprawled on the dock was the deckhand who had accosted her. The dogs were perched on his arms and legs, pinning him down. He lay absolutely still, paralyzed with fear. Every time he so much as twitched, one of the dogs would bare its teeth and growl at him.

“It appears as though I owe my gratitude to your dogs too, Mr. . . . ?”

He followed her gaze to the dogs and nodded. “Bjorklund. Alex Bjorklund.”

“Mr. Bjorklund.”

“Just Alex.”

“Then I'm just Tessa.”

“Tessa.” The way her name rolled off his lips, as if he were tasting a savory piece of cake, made her insides warm. “Very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“I'm the new teacher.” She waited for him to say something about the fact that she was a woman and how Eagle Harbor hadn't hired a woman teacher before.

“Actually, you already know me. I'm the local spoilsport.”

She laughed with relief. Maybe not everyone was as opposed to having a female instructor as the store clerk. Perhaps there was hope after all.

“I suppose you could call your dogs off the man before they give him a heart attack.”

“I suppose I could,” he replied, his eyes narrowing at the deckhand. His companions had long since escaped into the safety of the steamer. “But I'm leaning toward letting my dogs scare him for a few more minutes just to make sure he learns his lesson good and well.”

“And what lesson are you hoping to teach him? How to play dead perhaps?”

“No, I only want him to learn to keep his hands off pretty women.”

Ah, so he did think she was pretty. A measure of satisfaction wafted through her. “Maybe I should start keeping a pack of dogs with me to ward off unwanted attention.”

“Sounds like a good idea. I'm sure you get a lot of attention.”

The satisfaction swelled. She liked a man who knew how to flatter, and it was clear Alex was quite adept at it.

“I tell you what,” he said. “Come spring, I'll give you the pick of the litter.”

She started to shake her head, but his smile stopped her words—and her heartbeat.

“Purebred Norwegian Elkhounds. You couldn't ask for a better dog to protect you. They're fiercely loyal.”

“Yes, they do look fierce.”

“Don't tell me they scare you too?” he teased.

“Of course not—”

His short whistle cut off her words. The dogs perked up their ears and turned their heads toward him. “Come,” he commanded. At once, the dogs released the deckhand and scampered down the dock.

At the sight of the two husky dogs bounding toward her, Tessa tried not to cower. Like their master, they were powerfully built. Yet as they neared Alex, their curly tails began to wag and their tongues lolled from their mouths, which were tipped up in what could almost be called a smile, if it was possible for a dog to smile.

They halted at Alex's feet, sat and peered up at him with adoring black eyes.

He tilted his head toward Tessa. As if on cue, both dogs swiveled to stare at her.

“Tessa,” Alex said, “meet Wolfie and Bear.”

She wasn't exactly sure how one went about talking to dogs, but she had the distinct feeling she couldn't ignore the two pairs of eyes gazing up at her so intently. “Um. Hello?”

Their tales waggled in unison.

“Wolfie and Bear are nice names,” she said to Alex. “Original.”

“Are you mocking my dogs' names?” His voice contained the hint of a smile.

“I'd never do that,” she replied with mock horror. “Not when they've obviously been so carefully chosen.”

He gave a low chuckle.

The clatter of a wagon drew their attention to a well-worn dirt road that had been cut through the spruce on the edge of town. A double team of oxen strained to pull their heavy load out of the forest and down the gently sloping road that led to the shore. The man guiding the team was hunched beneath a coat that was covered in a dark-red dust. His face and hands were covered in the same.

Tessa guessed the barrels in the back of the wagon were filled with the copper that had attracted fortune hunters to Eagle Harbor and the Keweenaw Peninsula for the past two decades—the copper that had earned the peninsula the nickname Copper Country.

Another gust of wind swept off the waves and knocked into her. In spite of Alex's coat, she'd grown cold again. Seeing her shivering, Alex retrieved her carpetbag. She located her heavy cloak, and Alex insisted she put it on over his coat to add extra warmth. Once she was bundled, he accompanied her along the path toward town. The rocks gave way to pale sand. After dragging her feet through the sandy drifts, she was breathless by the time she reached town but was warmed a little from the exertion.

At the sight of a man on horseback riding down Center Street straight toward them, she stepped aside into the tall yellow grass and wild pink roses that grew among the lichen-encrusted rocks.

“T. Taylor?” the man said, reining his palomino so that he
faced her. Attired in crisp pinstriped pants and a matching vest and waistcoat, he appeared to be a businessman of some sort, certainly not a miner like the man driving the wagon. His face was smoothly shaven except for a thin well-groomed mustache that might have been black at one time but was now threaded with hints of silver. His features were suave, made almost handsome with the age lines that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“I'm T. Taylor,” she replied. “Tessa Taylor, the new schoolteacher for Eagle Harbor. Who are you?”

“I'm Percival Updegraff.” He tipped up the brim of his hat and smiled. He was almost old enough to be her father. “I'm your new boss.”

Her new boss? She straightened her shoulders. Her letter of acceptance for the position had told her to report to the Cole Mine Company Store and Office. She'd assumed the clerk there was the one who'd hired her. “I already met Mr. Updegraff at the store.”

“That's my brother, Samuel.”

Alex came to stand next to her. While she'd just met him, there was something comforting about having a man of his strength close by, there to help her if she needed it.

“I'm chief clerk of Cole Mine,” Percival Updegraff said. “I do all the hiring and firing in Eagle Harbor.”

“Your brother attempted to fire me because I'm a woman teacher. I hope you don't share his unfortunate sentiments.”

Mr. Updegraff's smile widened. “Rest assured, I hold none of his prejudices against women.”