His heart ached at the thought, though it had no right in its attachment to her.
He walked beneath the trees on a path he’d worn down with nearly as many steps as he’d made to and from the beach for water. This time, he went in search of what he’d once had in abundance and abhorred—silence and solitude.
Instinctively, he kept his gaze sweeping the trees. He watched for the tiny, poisonous frogs, the venomous spiders, just as he kept aware for any animal or plant that might give him a greater advantage over the hardships of the island.
He went down the hill at a quick pace, putting distance between himself and the British, his thoughts tumbling all over themselves. Carlbury was a fool, of that Alejandro had little doubt, but he understood that the man’s rash attitude stemmed from fear. For perhaps the first time in the privileged gentleman’s life he had no control, no authority, and his lack of practical skills endangered him and those he cared about.
Pitying Carlbury would be easier than disliking him, but Alejandro had only to remember the way the Englishman turned his nose up, snide and arrogant, and he brushed the pity aside.
His awareness to the shuffling behind him brought Alejandro spinning around, digging his feet into the incline and raising his hands to ward off an attack.
Miss Everly gasped and pulled back, losing her balance. She overcorrected then, leaning forward, causing her to stumble and slide down the slope and into him. His hands already held upward, it was instinctual to open his arms and catch her, leaning into her to keep from falling backward himself.
Her hands caught his shoulders, and her eyes had turned round as the full moon. She stared up at him, her lips parted and face pale.
Alejandro had held beautiful women in his arms before. He’d danced with them at home, and during his time abroad. He’d even stolen a kiss or two when certain ladies had seemed amenable to the idea. But it had been a long time since he’d stood this close, so close he could see the flecks of green in her blue eyes, to someone who stirred more intense feelings within him.
If only they had met in a crowded ballroom far from the island. He would have asked her to dance.
“Are you steady?” he asked, dispelling the quiet.
Color rushed into her cheeks, blooming like the roses his mother had tried desperately to grow in her new homeland. “Yes.” The word was a squeak, reminding him of a mouse sighting a predator.
He’d frightened her, and that sickened him. He released her and stepped back, certain she would not fall again. “What are you doing, Señorita?”
She pushed her loose hair back over her shoulder. “Miss Everly, if you please.” She took in a shaky breath. “I wanted to make certain we did not overly insult you, Mr. Córdoba.”
Did she? Her eyes told him she had another reason entirely for following after him. “I cannot think of anything you must apologize for, Miss Everly.” He considered her for a moment, taking in the disheveled hair and a smudge of dirt across her cheek. “You said nothing wrong. But you had best return to your people.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “My people?”
“They were not happy with you for wandering off earlier. I doubt anyone will be pleased you are out of their sight again.” Especially her Mr. Carlbury. That man would want to keep her safely within his reach.
“Mr. Córdoba—”
“Señor Córdoba,” he corrected, amused to insist on the title in his native language.
Her chest rose and fell with a dramatic sigh. “Very well. Señor Córdoba. Surely you understand—everyone is frightened. For you to storm off as you did, without word of where you were going or when you might return, will leave my people to worry. I know we have not made a positive impression upon you.”
“A positive impression,” he repeated, the words strange on his tongue. For so long, he’d only uttered prayers and recited favorite snatches of poems, plays, and psalms. “The words of English drawing rooms have no place here, Miss Everly. There is no one here to impress.” He took a step back. “I will return soon. You are welcome to tell the others that, if it eases their thoughts.”
She took a step forward. “Where are you going?” Her eyes asked what she did not voice. “May I come, too? She did not understand that the presence of the others changed everything.
“To think. I am going to think.”
A puzzled frown turned her lips downward. “But—aren’t you lonely? Do you not wish to—to have a conversation? To be with people? To be with—with me.”
Yes. He wanted to tell her yes. He had yearned for company, for conversation, for companionship, for months. And it had been so easy with her, the day before.
Yet to go from silence to nearly a dozen people staring at him, speaking to him, depending on him, and at least one person expressing hostility toward him, had drained Alejandro of whatever desire he had possessed. His longing for company had been sated with a speed he had not anticipated.
Something of his thoughts seemed to have leaked through his mind and into the air. She fixed him with a sudden gentle expression, a softness in her eyes that nearly drew him forward. “I suppose we have overwhelmed you.”
Perceptive. Inquisitive. Adventurous. Not at all what Alejandro expected of a gently bred woman, no matter where she might be from. She stood beneath the shade of the island’s trees, her bare feet in the dirt not far from his, her expression earnest. What was he to do with a woman who stared at him in such a way, in a more than hopeless situation? A woman who had stirred feelings he did not know himself capable of experiencing.
“Go back, Miss Everly,” he said, cutting through his own thoughts and his sudden desire to invite her along with him. Even if rescue never came, he did not think anyone of the people with her would tolerate their being alone for so long. “I am not your concern.”
She stiffened and her chin came up as though she’d been startled. Hesitantly, she took a step back, then she marched back up the hill. Her bare feet skipped from one patch of dirt to another, avoiding roots and rocks. He watched until she crested the hill, and then he turned away and kept on his path through the trees.
He had to get his thoughts in order. Make plans.
A crowd of people on his island changed everything. How long would they last? Had anyone brought disease with them? Illness that would spread? What of the doctor’s wife? How trustworthy were these people? If madness set in, even one unstable person might do enough damage to the others, to the island itself, to bring several others down with them.
As lonely as he had been, at least Alejandro had known exactly what must be done. How to survive. How to stay sane. He walked to the beach, not certain what to say, what to do, to instill enough fear in the people who had come that they would listen to him.
And women. Why did there have to be women involved? An injured woman, requiring constant care and in a fragile state. A second woman—no, Miss Carlbury was more like a girl, too young and inexperienced, too wrapped up in herself, to count as a mature member of her sex. She would prove as useless as if she’d been injured, more of a liability than a help. Unless she grew up quickly and accepted the situation in which she found herself. Given her brother’s reactionary nature, Alejandro doubted that would be an easy change for her to make, if it wasn’t discouraged outright.
Oh, and Miss Everly. Wandering around, asking intrusive questions. Yet try as he might, he couldn’t find it in himself to think of her unkindly.
Alejandro pushed through the brush as gently as possible. He had no wish to run afoul of any insects or birds nesting in the smaller trees and bushes. He’d been stung and bitten enough to know how little the animals here feared man.
The beach waited for him, strewn with things washed up by the storm. That sail was especially needful. There would be many uses for it. What he’d viewed as abundance in the dim light of the moon he recognized now as a necessity. Bandages, wrappings, and all manner of things might be made from a single sail. But the idea of using it to signal for help, in case anyone
did come looking for the new inhabitants of the island, was also a worthy need.
Ten people relied on him to be clever with each and every resource on the island. Though more had depended upon him in his former life, the task ahead felt more daunting than anything he’d faced before.
10
When Hope entered the shelter, she grimaced at the stale air inside. There wasn’t a great deal of natural light coming in, except from the doorway and the hole for the smoke to rise out of. Though the fire had died down, the shelter was unbearably warm. Surely the stifling atmosphere would not meet with the doctor’s approval.
Yet there the doctor was, kneeling next to his wife. Across the small room, Irene sat with her head resting against Albert’s shoulder and both her hands clasping her brother’s. Albert had his head tilted back, but she could not see his expression in the dimness.
“Oh, Miss Everly.” The doctor’s voice called to her and she came further in, grateful she did not have to stoop as everyone else did to walk beneath the thatched roof.
“Yes, Doctor Morgan?” She lowered herself to the ground, tucking her skirts back in as ladylike a manner as possible. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Yes, I think so.” Doctor Morgan’s voice, heavy with worry, perplexed her. “We are in a unique situation, Miss Everly.”
Mrs. Morgan shifted and Hope realized the woman was awake. “Most unique, dear.” Mrs. Morgan put her hand on her husband’s knee. “And so we must have a conversation.” She nearly whispered her words, her chest barely moving as she spoke. The bruising likely made it painful for her to inhale any more deeply than she must while talking. “You are not attached to anyone here, Miss Everly, beyond friendship. Is that so?”
It took some restraint to not look over her shoulder. Albert had hinted, more than once, that he would pay court to her if given the slightest nod of approval. Though why he had focused his pursuit in such a way she did not understand. She did nothing to encourage him.
“That is true, Mrs. Morgan.” She matched the other woman’s low tone, having no wish to involve the Carlburys in this conversation.
The doctor shifted on his knees, briefly glancing at his wife before meeting Hope’s. “This is concerning. Your reputation is at stake, Miss Everly.”
Was that all they were worried about? Had they no common sense? “I hardly think anyone can hold being shipwrecked against me.”
“Of course not. But the fact remains that you are on an island with several unmarried men, and only two women to keep you company. You were also alone, for quite some time, with a man unknown to any of us.” Mrs. Morgan’s shallow breathing did not sound pained so much as patient. “I must rest and heal. I cannot watch over you unless you remain by my side.”
Hope’s insides prickled. “But Miss Carlbury—”
The doctor waved a hand to cut off her response. He kept his voice low enough it would not carry across the small room. “I think we both know your friend’s nature will keep her inclined to remain near her brother or here, with Mrs. Morgan.”
“From our brief interactions, I do not think you will be so willing to sit still,” Mrs. Morgan added, a tight smile on her face. “I understand that desire completely. It is how I should feel, were I not in such a wretched state.”
Guilt settled deeply in Hope’s heart. She liked Mrs. Morgan, and to think of no one but herself when the woman had been injured was not at all how Grace would have behaved. Grace never failed to put the needs of others before her, whereas Hope knew well enough that she rarely spared a thought on such matters when she was in the midst of something that mattered to her.
After the silence continued too long, Mrs. Morgan spoke, even gentler than before. “We feel we ought to warn you to take care of your reputation. Guard it. Do not put yourself in a compromising situation.”
Doctor Morgan spoke firmly, his voice louder as he made his declaration. “I am willing to take you under my protection until we are rescued. The presence of my wife, and her agreement, ought to help. But we need you to promise you will take care, Miss Everly, of your reputation and your health.”
“This is not a holiday. We are in very real danger.” Mrs. Morgan closed her eyes, her grim smile in place again. “A stumble and fall could injure you, there are things on this island that might harm you. Exercise caution, Miss Everly.”
All Hope could do was agree with them. Even if she was of an age that meant she no longer required the approval of a guardian in manners of conduct, the situation proved a risky one. “Thank you, both of you, for your concern and kindness. I will take what you have said to heart.”
“Good. I did worry.” Mrs. Morgan sighed and reached for her husband again, touching the sleeve of his coat. How he could bear to wear it in such heat, Hope did not know. “My husband told me you wandered off alone this morning. With Mr. Córdoba.”
Ah. That made their concern more pointed. Their mistrust of Alejandro. “Señor Córdoba showed me where to fetch water and escorted me to the beach. There was nothing inappropriate about his conduct, I assure you.”
“We know nothing of him, Miss Everly,” the doctor said. “While open-air walks might be acceptable in London parks, I am not in favor of embarking on them here. Please, do not leave this shelter or clearing without an escort, or without your friend.”
Dragging Irene around the island would be nearly impossible. The Morgans were perfectly correct when they assumed the other young lady would have no interest in doing things that might lead to uncomfortable situations. Perhaps Hope might convince her to go down to the beach, but other excursions might be difficult.
Yet what could she do? Here she had an opportunity to live out something only written of in novels. Shipwrecked on a tropical island, and she was not even permitted to go exploring.
Of course, she needn’t heed anyone if she did not wish to. But stirring up trouble by casting aside their practical advice would not end well. Sensing her discussion with the Morgans was at an end, Hope excused herself to allow them privacy and went across the hovel to her friends. They had not moved. Albert appeared to be asleep, but Irene blinked through the dim light and up at Hope.
“You should tidy your hair, Grace. Wearing it loose and down will only cause you a great deal of trouble as it snarls.”
Hope’s hands went up to her hair. She had been brushing it back all morning, but she hadn’t any idea what else she might do with it. She sat down on Irene’s free side and started combing through the mass of brown waves with her fingers.
“What did the Morgans want?” Irene asked, her voice soft in the darkness. “Do they think we have a chance of rescue?”
Hope shrugged, her fingers finding a snag that required more careful attention. “They did not speak about that. They were telling me to guard my reputation. To be careful and not wander far.”
Strangely enough, that made Irene giggle. “Oh. I suppose that is kind of them, but we both know it is most unnecessary. Were you your sister, I should have cause to be concerned, but you are far too intelligent to see this as anything other than the tragedy it is. It’s something out of Shakespeare, isn’t it? What is the play where everyone is shipwrecked on that magical island?”
It was actually one of Hope’s favorites, though the oddness of living out even a portion of the play made her shiver. “The Tempest.”
“Yes.” Irene lifted her head from her brother’s shoulder. “You know, Albert might safeguard your reputation. It cannot be a surprise to you to know how much he admires you. I am certain, if you wished it, he would make an offer. Then once we are rescued you could marry. We would be sisters.”
Would Irene be so willing for such an event if she knew she spoke to Hope rather than Grace? Albert certainly would not wish to attach himself to the sister he viewed as flighty and troublesome. He’d hurled those insults directly at Hope, more than a year ago, when she had involved Irene in one of her less successful ventures. His open hostility toward her was yet another point in favor of remaining a
s Grace for the time being. Albert had already proven himself to have a temper, after all, nearly attacking Alejandro.
Hope stared down at her lap, her fingers finally untangling the last knot. “I am glad you find me an acceptable candidate for sister-in-law, but you know how I feel. I will marry when I fall in love, to a man I love.” Alejandro’s dark eyes appeared in her mind, their intensity making her throat close. She came to her feet less than gracefully. “Excuse me. I am going to fetch Mrs. Morgan more water.”
What if Albert had been awake for that conversation? Hope shuddered even as she stepped into the morning sunlight. Then she took herself to the trees, sitting beneath the shade of the first one she came across. Her long hair hung about her shoulders and down to the middle of her back. It would prove troublesome before long, with no combs or brushes, no maid with deft hands and curling papers or hot tongs.
Leaning against the tree trunk, Hope let her eyes wander the clearing. The sailors were still gone. The professor was beneath another tree, sleeping. Mr. Thorne was nowhere in sight, either. Why should everyone else be permitted to do as they pleased and she was confined to this place?
Reputation did not matter so much as survival. No one could argue that. Hope could contribute. Finding edible berries, hauling water, collecting firewood, were all tasks she could easily perform. The water should be a good place to start, too.
She looked down at her bare feet, dusty again from walking about, and almost smiled. It had not been too long ago that she had walked barefoot along the shore of the North Sea, on her friend Isaac’s property. Even Grace never hesitated to remove shoes and stockings to walk in the sand as they had when they were children.
Grace. Dear, wonderful, practical Grace. What would she advise Hope to do? Not sit still, certainly. But to exercise some caution while she went about doing as she pleased. That thought did make Hope’s lips curve upward, and warmth stirred in her heart. Grace understood that Hope thrived on action, movement, and the desire to explore. Of everyone Hope knew, Grace was the only one who never expected Hope to be other than she was. The advice her twin gave her, time and again, was only to take care of herself when she went blowing about like a hurricane.
Saving Miss Everly: A Regency Romance (Inglewood Book 3) Page 8
