Mary Burton Read online

  “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

  DON’T MISS THESE OTHER

  TITLES AVAILABLE NOW:

  #691 COLORADO COURTSHIP

  Carolyn Davidson

  #692 THE CHAPERON BRIDE

  Nicola Cornick

  #694 THE WEDDING KNIGHT

  Joanne Rock

  MARY BURTON

  The Lightkeeper’s Woman

  Available from Harlequin Historicals and

  MARY BURTON

  A Bride for McCain #502

  The Colorado Bride #570

  The Perfect Wife #614

  Christmas Gold #627

  “Until Christmas”

  Rafferty’s Bride #632

  The Lightkeeper’s Woman #693

  Other works include:

  A Hero’s Kiss

  “Snow Maiden”

  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

  There 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

  The 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 m
ade 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 f
irst 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.”