Mary Burton Read online

  “Yes. And you might as well hear it from me. He’s asked me to marry him.”

  His shoulders stiffened. His gaze grew very, very cold. “And you accepted.”

  A shiver traveled down her spine. “I haven’t given him an answer.”

  “But you’ll say yes.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  “You’ll marry him.”

  “Don’t pretend to know me or my thoughts.”

  As if she hadn’t spoken, he said, “How long was I gone before Henry started sniffing around?”

  She watched his jaw tighten, then release, tighten. “Henry has always been a gentleman. He’s always been a good friend to me.”

  Challenge glimmered in his eyes. “What’d ol’ Henry say when you told him you were coming to see me?”

  The fire seeped from her body. She was silent. As always, Caleb had a knack for spotting weakness.

  Caleb laughed, but it held no humor. “I thought so. He doesn’t know you’re here.”

  Ducking her head, she touched her fingertips to her temple. It had started to throb. “He doesn’t need to know. He’d only worry unduly.”

  “Right.”

  As he stared at her, she felt foolish and silly as if she’d just stepped from the schoolroom. Drawing behind years of training, she summoned her most imperious tone. “I don’t appreciate your attitude.”

  Abruptly, he sighed, as if suddenly all the fight had fled from his body. “I really don’t care what you think about me or my attitude. As soon as the storm lets up, we leave for the mainland. And then we can put this miserable reunion behind us.”

  The dismissal stung. But instead of drawing inward when she was hurting, she did what she always did. She fought.

  Ready to stand toe-to-toe with him, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood—too quickly. Her head spun. She was going to black out. Her knees buckled. She started to fall.

  Strong hands saved her. For a moment, her heart hammered wildly in her chest. She was so aware of his fingers banding around her arms. Of his scent, and of his deep, rapid breathing.

  She wanted only to lean into him, to cry, and make the anger between them go away. And for an instant, she gave in to the yearning and leaned her head against his chest.

  His heart beat steady and strong. In Caleb’s arms, she’d always felt happy and secure.

  His body stiffened and for the briefest instant she imagined he leaned closer to her, as if inhaling the scent of her hair. His fingers tightened, and for just a moment, she felt as if the clock had been turned back and they were one again.

  He must have felt the same way because he abruptly loosened his hold and drew his face away from her.

  Alanna wanted to pull away and stand on her own two feet. Even as her head spun, she reminded herself that she needed distance. Distance from him would allow her mind to clear.

  He savagely evoked the memories of the last two years. Those struggles had taught her that the security of Caleb’s arms was an illusion. His love had lasted no longer than a puff of smoke or a cloud on a breezy day.

  She tried to take a step, but her legs, still too weak to support her weight, wouldn’t allow it. Sucking in a breath, she tried once again to pull away. Still, she couldn’t manage alone.

  As if he understood her struggle, Caleb withdrew a fraction. But he didn’t let go of her completely. Like it or not, she needed him right now.

  Resigned, she allowed him to guide her down to the bed. She eased back against the mattress, letting it absorb her weight. Lord, but she was tired.

  Her eyes closed, she leaned back against the pillow. “My debt to you keeps mounting.”

  Keeping his head low, Caleb picked up her bare feet and swung them up onto the bed. He covered her with thick blankets, and then retreated toward the door. “You don’t owe me anything. We’re finished, Alanna.” He left without another word.

  Chapter Five

  Alanna woke in a panic.

  Disoriented, she lurched forward in her bed, gasping for air as if she’d been drowning. Dim light trickled in from a small rain-soaked window, casting a murky glow on the simple room more suited for a monk than a lady. No carpet warmed the neatly swept pine floor and other than the bed and nightstand, the only furniture was a single chest and the rocker by the fire.

  The room was a refuge but it didn’t encourage long stays.

  And then she remembered. Caleb. He’d saved her from drowning.

  Whatever vague hopes she’d had that all this was some horrible dream vanished. She was trapped on these isolated shores with Caleb.

  She remembered Caleb had been with her last night. When her fever had been so high, she’d been glad to have him close. His touch had offered comfort, but it had also stirred too many buried feelings.

  To her relief, he wasn’t in the room now. She needed time alone to get her bearings.

  Clutching the blanket around her shoulder, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Instead of landing on a cold floor, her feet came to rest on Toby’s tail.

  Alanna screamed and jerked back her feet.

  The dog’s head snapped up, but he didn’t growl; instead he studied her, and then yawned.

  Her nerves settled, and she felt like a fool for overreacting. Planting her feet on the floor next to him, she scratched Toby between his floppy ears. “Hello, boy.”

  Toby’s tail thumped against the floor in greeting.

  “It’s been a long time.” She looked through the open doorway into the hallway. “Where is he?”

  The dog’s ears perked.

  “Where’s Caleb?”

  In answer, the dog rose and trotted out the bedroom door. His nails clicked against the floor’s bare wood as he disappeared down the hallway.

  “Hey, wait for me.” Gingerly, she rose to her feet. She felt light-headed, but it was nothing like the last time she’d stood and nearly passed out.

  A breeze cooled her bare legs and Caleb’s scent engulfed her. She remembered then that she only wore Caleb’s shirt. The shirttail stretched past her knees and the sleeves hung past her arms. But she felt vulnerable.

  Recalling the feel of Caleb’s fingers around her arm, she smoothed her hand over the rough cotton sleeve. For an instant, she could almost feel the pressure of his warm skin touching hers.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Stop thinking like this!

  Alanna needed to flee this place as quickly as she could. She gazed out the window and watched the windswept branches scrape against the glass panes. Leaving now was impossible.

  Frustrated, she pressed her fingertips into her temples. How could she spend another moment alone with him? She took several deep breaths. She could do this. She could do this.

  For now she was stuck here with Caleb, but soon—perhaps in a matter of hours—she’d be gone and he’d be nothing but a memory.

  “One step at a time, Alanna,” she muttered. Step one: clothes. If she were going to stay here, she certainly couldn’t run around in Caleb’s shirt.

  Caleb had said her clothes were ruined, but he would supply her with others. As promised, on the chest she spotted a neat pile of clothes.

  She went to the pile and was grateful to find a thick braided sweater and line-dried wool socks. However, there wasn’t a skirt, but a pair of well-worn breeches. She held up the pants. She’d never worn pants before. Lord, but Henry would be horrified.

  There’d been a time when she’d have refused to wear anything secondhand, let alone breeches. Women of breeding simply didn’t do such things.

  But over the last two years she’d watched her finances dwindle to almost nothing. And if diminished circumstances had taught her anything, it had taught her that practicality took precedence over vanity.

  Without hesitation, she slipped on the clothes. The breeches felt cold at first and awkward. And not having a corset or, at the very least, a chemise under her sweater felt positively indecent. Still, as h
er skin warmed the fabric, she had to admit the clothes were comfortable and fit well.

  Regaining a measure of control, Alanna moved to the window. Raindrops drizzled down panes of glass smeared with a thick coating of sea salt. Through the film she saw a collection of white-framed buildings that ringed a tall brick lighthouse. The lighthouse looked massive from this vantage point. It stood well over two hundred feet and its granite-and-brick base had to be thirty feet around. Its builders must have used over a million bricks during its construction.

  The light atop flashed steady and bright. On for two counts, off for five. The steady beacon signaled that Caleb was on duty.

  A sigh dropped her shoulders. Like it or not, having him nearby was comforting.

  Her gaze drifted to the yard outside the cottage where the collection of other buildings stood. One building appeared to be a boathouse, another a shed, another a smokehouse. Save for a paltry collection of low-growing cedars by the house, the yard was sandy with sporadic patches of green wiregrass. Sandy dunes blocked her view of the ocean and added to the land’s barren, beaten-down appearance.

  She spotted Caleb leaving the base of the lighthouse. Dressed in a black jacket, woolen pants tucked into knee-high boots and a stocking cap, he moved with the unconscious confidence of a king. Her face grew hot with the realization that it had been two years since she’d shared his bed. Of course, she’d never be with him in that way ever again. But watching him stride across the yard sent a bolt of electricity down her spine.

  There’d been a time when she’d liked to watch him walk. She’d found his arrogance charming, his overconfidence a sign of strength. Now, she realized both were a sign of weakness, not strength. Arrogance had blinded Caleb to reason and goaded him to take such a dangerous chance two years ago. Good men had died, her father’s shipping empire destroyed because Caleb had gambled so boldly.

  Caleb unfastened the boathouse door bolt and struggled against the wind to open it. He slipped inside the boathouse and using all his weight, pulled the door closed behind him.

  She’d been a fool to come here.

  Caleb had been right when he’d said she’d come because of the past. Buried deep in her heart was the hope that he harbored some bit of remorse over what had happened.

  But as she had stared into his ice-blue eyes, she’d seen nothing to indicate he harbored any remorse. He’d paid a high price for folly. The world had brought him down a peg or two, but he still had the same overconfidence.

  Hot tears burned her eyes. Two years ago, she’d been so in love with him. Despite her father’s objections, she had continued to see him. When her father had found out, he’d seemed to relent. He’d offered to throw her the most lavish wedding Richmond had seen. The plans stretched on for weeks and instead of drawing Caleb and her closer, they drove a wedge between them.

  The Intrepid’s last night in port, she had been filled with an overwhelming need to see Caleb so she’d slipped out of her father’s house and in a hired cab, had ridden to the docks. There she’d sneaked aboard his ship and made her way to his cabin. She’d found him, studying his charts and maps.

  Her unexpected appearance had surprised Caleb. He’d been busy preparing for his upcoming voyage. But when he’d seen her, he’d known why she’d come.

  And as if he, too, were driven, he’d undressed her. They’d made love with an intensity they’d never experienced before. They’d exchanged vows, promising to repeat them in front of a minister when he returned.

  The next morning she’d risen before dawn. They both were somber and quiet. As Caleb had seen her to a cab, he’d kissed her.

  “I don’t like leaving you.”

  “I’ll love you forever and always.”

  In the following weeks, she’d been ill, and so very tired. And then she’d realized she’d carried his child.

  Fear had kept her up at night worrying over the child that would bind them forever. She’d feared her father’s reaction. Surely, he’d throw her out of his house. She was certain no one else would go against Obadiah Patterson and offer her shelter. She counted the days until Caleb would return.

  Five weeks after Caleb set sail, the weather had turned bad. And then word came of the disaster. And of Caleb’s deception.

  At first, Alanna didn’t believe her father. She’d wanted to travel to Hampton to see Caleb. But when her father presented the evidence against Caleb, she’d realized the man she loved had lied to her. And her heart had shattered.

  The day before Caleb’s inquest, she’d started to cramp and the bleeding began. Her mind said the miscarriage was a blessing; her heart ached for the child that never would be born.

  When Caleb’s letters had arrived, she’d been unable to read them. She’d lost her baby, her heart and her life—all because of her foolish attraction for Caleb. She’d given the letters to her father unopened, determined never to think about Caleb again.

  Alanna turned from the window. Her hands slid to her flat belly. Tears streamed down her face.

  Several minutes passed before she was able to shrug off the sadness and think objectively about her current situation.

  The storm prevented her escape now, but that did not mean that she had to remain idle. In the past, she’d found some solace working on her church charity drives. After her father’s suicide she’d not been welcome in the church, so she’d made her own baskets for the poor and delivered them alone.

  Alanna ventured down the hallway. She passed two closed doors on her right and one on her left before she reached a small parlor. A well-worn braided rug warmed the floor under a settee and two upholstered chairs nestled close to a large potbellied stove, which glowed warm with a fire. In the corner sat a large brass bin that held enough coal to fuel the fire for the next day. Journals, charts and maps were piled high against each wall. A clock hung on the wall. It was five minutes to one.

  Functional and efficient, there were no pictures on the walls, knickknacks, or any concession to luxury. The room was Spartan, practical and cold.

  She moved through the room to a small kitchen. Toby sat in the corner near a cookstove on a bed made of old quilts, chewing on a bone.

  Alanna’s stomach growled and the appetite that had escaped her since Caleb’s ship had gone down returned with a vengeance. “Got anything for me to eat?”

  Toby thumped his tail when he saw her but didn’t rise.

  Alanna rolled her eyes. “You’re a big help.”

  Steam rose from a kettle atop a cast-iron stove. She leaned close and smelled coffee. She’d have preferred tea. On a roughly hewn table in the center of the small room sat a platter covered with a red-and-white-checkered cloth. Under the cloth, she found cheese and cold meat.

  Alanna filled a white porcelain mug with coffee. She sat at the table, savoring the warmth of the mug against her hands. She tasted the coffee. Bitter, but warm. She managed another sip and pinched a piece of cheese and popped it in her mouth. It tasted delicious.

  Toby rose and sauntered over to her. He looked up at her with sad eyes. “Oh, so you’re hungry now?”

  The dog barked.

  Alanna pulled off a piece of bread and fed it to the dog. He gobbled it down. For the next few minutes, both ate in companionable silence.

  When she was full, she moved back into the parlor and sat on the settee. Toby followed and lay down at her feet. She picked up one of the ledgers in the pile. Its spine read 1866.

  Curious, Alanna opened the faded cover and leafed through the yellowed pages covered with daily entries of Assistant Keeper Roberts.

  August 10: Foggy and rainy. Assisted Life Saving Station 2 with rescue of Sally Jane crew. All accounted for. Ship a total loss. Assistant Keeper struck in head by ship’s mast. Twenty-three stitches required. No other incidents.

  October 1: Breezy. Mild. No vessels spotted. Discovered a steamship in danger waters. Fired Coston Signal. Vessel changed her course.

  December 9: Cold. Rain turned to snow. Keeper Pitt died today. Log ent
ry by Assistant Keeper Moore.

  Keeper Pitt. Seeing Caleb’s surname unsettled Alanna. She rechecked the date on the book’s spine. 1866. Twenty years ago. Pitt was a common name, she reminded herself, likely shared with thousands of families. Still, an odd coincidence.

  She thought about the businesslike journal entry. Keeper Pitt died today. So little a detail, yet her mind spun with unanswered questions. How did he die? Did he have a wife? Children?

  She’d already had a taste of how harsh this land could be out here. No wonder the Assistant Keeper hadn’t written more. Time was a luxury he didn’t have.

  She closed the book. She didn’t want to know any more about this place or the men who’d managed it. She wanted to go home.

  Alanna went to the steamer trunk behind the settee, hoping to find something more presentable to wear home. To her surprise she found a collection of clothes—a calico dress, a cotton skirt and several pairs of men’s breeches. She lifted the wool dress and discovered it had been made for a woman much taller than herself.

  Alanna remembered stories Caleb had told her once of the shipwrecks and of the passengers’ belongings that often ended up washed ashore.

  She laid out the wool dress and inspected its seams. With a needle and thread, she could alter the dress. She held little hope of retrieving her luggage from Crowley, and returning to Richmond dressed as a woman and not a sailor would certainly raise fewer questions.

  Alanna dug through the trunk in search of a needle and thread. To her delight, she found a simple tin sewing box outfitted with threads and a small pair of scissors.

  Her spirits lifted. Altering the dress would be a small task in the scheme of things. But in her mind, mending the dress brought her one step closer to home—and leaving this place behind forever.

  The noon hour had long passed when Caleb left the lighthouse for home. The storm still raged, a deadly mix of wind and sea. The savage wind banged an open shutter against the side of the cottage. He shoved his hands in his pocket and lowered his head against the gale, which shoved him across the lawn toward the house. He was soaked when he reached the back porch.