Daniel encouraged her all the more. ‘Snow is an impediment to travel and transport. It argues against Christmas rather than in its favour.’
‘Bah, humbug!’
‘The point still lies with me,’ he insisted.
‘What of the song of red-breasted robins?’
‘Annoying wee beasties.’
‘Deep-green polished holly and evergreens and kissing boughs of mistletoe?’
‘I concede I could perhaps be persuaded by the latter.’
‘Roasted chestnuts and mince pies?’
‘I’m warming further to the idea.’
‘Christmas hymns sung loud with cheer?’
‘You would change your mind were I to sing, Mrs Ellison.’
Her smile widened. ‘Gifts exchanged on Boxing Day?’
‘Of what kind of gifts are we talking?’
She laughed, a woman’s laughter, soft and pure after the harshness and stench of the days with Higgs. Like soothing fingers against a brow tense with knowledge he would rather not possess but could not forget. But when he was with Sarah Ellison he was not thinking of Higgs.
‘Not to mention the mulled wine made by my own hands to my great-grandmother Bowden’s recipe. I’ve a portmanteau full of the stuff. It is a most potent brew.’
‘Now you’re bringing out the big guns. Mulled wine, indeed.’
She smiled. ‘Have I won the challenge and convinced you?’
‘No, lass,’ he said quietly and shadows from the past stirred when he would have left them undisturbed. And even though he wanted to keep her smiling, and even though he was already lying to her, that was one lie he could not bring himself to tell. ‘That’s a challenge you’ll never win.’
The blue of her bonnet had grown damp from the drizzle and the ribbons that tied it no longer fluttered, but stuck to her neck. The fading of her smile was soft and gradual, but the unhappiness did not return, nor were the barricades re-erected. Instead, her eyes studied his in the silence, as if she could see something of those things he kept hidden deep and dark within. Daniel turned his gaze away and felt a relief that the rainclouds opening in full meant the end of the conversation.
* * *
She was a widow of nine and twenty.
He was a man she scarcely knew. The wrong sort of man. She only ever attracted the wrong sort of man—scoundrels, men who lied and cheated, men who were never what they said they were. And yet that look in his eyes when they had spoken of Christmas... She shook her head, knowing the rawness she had seen there was something she had never seen in any man’s eyes before. It touched her to the core. A man with such depths in his eyes couldn’t be like Robert. Could he? She frowned at the direction her thoughts were taking.
She was here to take Imelda home and escape another wrong sort of man, not enter into some flirtation. And yet... She bit her lip, not wanting to admit the truth even to herself.
Daniel Alexander wanted her. She could see it in his eyes, and in a way the knowledge repaired something of the tattered shreds of her self-confidence. All those years of humiliation, all those times she had held her head high in the best of New York’s drawing rooms and ballrooms, pretending she did not see the knowing looks or hear the whispers. Robert had not even had the decency to be discreet. All the doubts came crowding back, all the fears.
In the small peering glass fixed on the cabin wall, Sarah checked her hair for the tenth time and then chided herself for doing so. She should be steering well clear of him, not going up there to meet him—again. But she would go today, just as she had gone all the others, because when she was with him he made her forget all of those shadows and insecurities. Because he made her feel as if the darkness of the past had never been. And what was wrong with a few days of that? Whatever she thought of men in general, of relationships and sex and marriage, this was nothing of any of those. This was nothing but a journey home, a journey conducted in front of a captain and his crew, a journey in which nothing could happen.
‘You like him, don’t you?’ Imelda grinned.
‘If you are referring to Mr Alexander, I barely know the man enough to say whether my sentiments towards him are those of like and dislike. But we must, as ladies, contrive to behave in a civil manner to all persons at all times.’ Lord, that sounded pompous!
Imelda was not dissuaded. ‘He likes you, too.’
‘I am quite sure that Mr Alexander is not concerned in the slightest with me.’ But he was. She knew he was, and the knowledge relieved and excited and worried her in equal measure.
‘Fanny and I think him very handsome...for a pirate. Isn’t that right, Fanny?’
‘Hush now, Miss Imelda,’ Fanny warned.
‘If you and he were to marry, would that make him my uncle?’
‘What nonsense you talk, Imelda. One husband is quite enough in any woman’s lifetime.’ A husband ground a woman’s pride in the dirt before the eyes of an entire city. And had Robert not been proof enough, there was Brandon... She shook the bitter thoughts away and did not allow her mind to travel down that dark route.
‘But I would like to have a pirate for an uncle.’
Sarah raised an eyebrow, determined to nip such talk in the bud. ‘Have you started your French study for today?’
‘Oh, Aunt Sarah!’ protested Imelda. ‘I couldn’t possibly concentrate on French. Besides, this is our time for taking the air.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘And Mr Alexander will be waiting.’ Grabbing her cloak but without a heed for her bonnet, Imelda ran out of the cabin.
‘Sorry, ma’am. Shall I fetch her back?’ Fanny asked.
She shook her head. ‘We probably should take a little air.’
But Sarah knew, even as she and Fanny slipped on their cloaks and bonnets, that she was not going up there to take the air.
* * *
She stood there by the bulwark, looking out to sea, and Daniel knew by the way she did not turn her face to his that she was very aware of the growing desire between them.
All these days of talking and he did not yet know her story. Most women wanted to spill that within hours of meeting. Yet Sarah Ellison parried his every attempt to tread close, especially when it came to her late husband, although Daniel took some solace in her subtle enquiry as to whether he was married. Heaven only knew why! He didn’t even know why he had pushed them to this routine of daily meetings. Why he was pursuing her when he could not, in all honour, have her.
He raked a hand through his hair. The way things were he needed neither games nor complications. Part of him craved to bed her and be done with it. By God, she would be a salve to the underlying ache that always came at this time of year. And part knew he should walk away from her and focus only on Higgs, on what the hell he had stumbled into. But Daniel could do neither, and not just because they were stuck together within the confines of a ship. He closed his eyes, knowing he had a complication whether he wanted it or not.
And in nine more days they would be in Plymouth.
Her voice when she finally spoke was soft, her words echoing his thoughts. ‘In nine days we shall be in Plymouth.’ She still had not looked at him, just kept her gaze fixed on the expanse of ocean.
‘There is much that can happen in nine days.’ He did not know why he was saying it, only that he could not help himself.
He could see the slight tensing of her body in response to his words.
‘You are mistaken.’
‘Am I?’
‘I am not the sort of woman who indulges in dalliances.’
‘I am not the sort of man who dallies with the woman who saved his life.’
She swallowed. ‘Nor am I seeking another husband.’ She gestured down at her dark skirt. ‘I am still mourning the first and always will be.’
‘I am not seeking a wife.’
‘Then we understand one another.’
He did not challenge her assertion. They understood each other too well, yet it served not to alleviate the underlying sensual tension between them, but only to tighten it.
She took a breath. ‘And I hardly saved your life.’ She glanced round at him.
‘What did you do that day?’
She averted her gaze again.
‘Shall I remind you?’ He did not wait for her reply. ‘You were standing on this same deck, wearing the same cloak and bonnet, as dark a blue as to appear black. I thought I was dreaming, for what man cast into the North Atlantic midwinter is rescued?
‘I watched you run to Seymour. I watched you persuade him. I tried to swim to you, but the current was too strong and my strength was spent. You reached for me, as if you would pluck me from the water yourself. “Hold on,” you said. “Just a little longer. We’re coming.”’
She moved so that they stood facing one another squarely, one hand still anchoring her to the bulwark. ‘How could you possibly have heard my words?’ Her eyes were wide with shock, her voice, barely above a whisper.
‘I saw them shape upon your lips. I heard their whisper in my ear.’
Her eyes never shifted from his. Brown velvet, ringed in charcoal grey. Beguiling as the woman herself. Daniel forgot everything else. Forgot Higgs. Forgot the lies he was weaving. Even forgot Netta. All he was aware of was Sarah Ellison.
He stepped closer, never breaking his gaze. ‘Mrs Ellison, Sarah...’ And despite all that he did not intend, he lowered his face towards hers. And despite all that she had said, she moved her mouth to meet his.
‘Mr Alexander!’ Imelda’s voice shouted from the other side of the deck.
Sarah started.
‘Come and look! I see your pirate ship in the distance!’
The moment was broken, allowing him to regain his senses. He stepped back from the brink, from where Sarah stood blinking at him in shock before her composure slotted back into place.
‘If you will excuse me, sir.’ He could hear the breathlessness in her voice, and see the embarrassment that coloured her cheeks. ‘I must attend to my niece.’
‘Allow me to accompany you, Mrs Ellison.’
‘I think it better if you do not, Mr Alexander.’
They looked at each other, the desire that pulled between them strong as the wind blowing across the ocean, finally unmasked for what it was. But Daniel’s control was back in full, and so too were all of Sarah Ellison’s barricades. But whatever he would have said to repair the damage was forgotten in the next moment.
‘Ship ahoy,’ came the call from the seaman who had climbed up into the crow’s nest.
* * *
Sarah watched Daniel change as the man’s words reached them. His expression hardened. His jaw tensed. His eyes narrowed with focus, and through his body rippled a wariness, an alertness, an edge of steel.
Regardless of what she had said, he followed her over to where Imelda and Fanny stood peering into the distance.
‘I told you so. Can you see it?’ Imelda pointed.
There, just visible on the horizon, was the tiny shape of a ship.
Sarah’s heart was still racing from what had just almost happened between them, her blood still rushing, her cheeks still scalding. She glanced at Daniel Alexander, but his gaze was focused firmly on the distant ship. Nothing could disguise the presence that emanated from him—strength and power and determination. His hair ruffled in the wind. The angles and planes of his face sharpened, honing his handsomeness. His eyes darkened and all around him she felt the aura of danger. Sarah shivered just to see it.
‘Aunt Sarah?’
‘I see it, Imelda.’ But she was not looking at the ship.
‘Is it a pirate ship?’ whispered Imelda.
‘There are no pirates in these waters,’ replied Sarah. ‘Only merchant ships such as the Angel and ships of the King’s navy.’ There were other navies too, not all of whom would be friendly towards a British merchant vessel, but Sarah did not want to frighten her niece by saying so.
‘But what about...?’ Imelda gestured her eyes towards Daniel Alexander.
Sarah pretended not to notice.
‘Aunt Sarah?’
‘I think it is time we retired to our cabins.’
‘But the ship...’ protested Imelda.
‘Is sailing away from us,’ said Daniel Alexander in a low serious voice.
Imelda cast big wide eyes at him.
He became aware of the way they were looking at him and the harsh focus dropped from his face. He smiled and was transformed to the man that they had come to know. ‘You need not worry, Miss Bowden, if they are pirates they have changed their mind about coming back for me.’
‘And if they are the King’s navy looking to catch you?’
A shadow moved in his eyes—there, then gone in a second. ‘Then I have had a lucky escape.’ Daniel Alexander gave a cheeky tug at one of Imelda’s pigtails and grinned.
Imelda giggled.
It was as if the moment had never happened...almost. For Sarah could feel the tension about Daniel Alexander and see the way his focus returned to linger long and cool on the distant ship.
She followed Fanny guiding Imelda back down to the cabins, leaving him to watch the last trace of the ship disappear. But what she had seen reminded her that Daniel Alexander was a man she did not know, for all it felt otherwise. And what had almost happened between them, in broad daylight, before Imelda and the Angel’s crew... She closed her eyes at how close she had come, despite all that she had resolved about men. But Daniel Alexander was different from other men. The time had come to stop lying to herself and admit the truth—that she was attracted to him, more than attracted to him. She wanted him in all the ways that a woman could want a man. And that was too risky a place for Sarah. Especially when the man involved was a tall handsome Highlander who was dangerous possibly to more than just a woman’s heart.
She knew now, that when it came to Daniel Alexander she could trust neither herself nor him. Nine days to Plymouth and she was going to have to avoid him for every one of them.
Chapter Three
Sarah Ellison’s niece and maid were alone when they appeared on deck the next day.
‘Oh, there you are, Mr Alexander.’ The wee lassie had already knocked her bonnet askew and was fidgeting at the ribbons. ‘Any sight of the pirate ship today?’
‘Not one, Miss Bowden,’ he said. Thank God!
‘Maybe tomorrow.’ She seemed cheerily hopeful.
‘Maybe.’
‘They are sure to come and fetch you.’
Daniel hoped not. ‘Your aunt does not accompany you today?’
‘She says she is busy with her needlework.’ Busy avoiding him, more like, after his carelessness the previous day. Imelda came to stand by his side. ‘You like Aunt Sarah, don’t you?’
‘I like Mrs Ellison very much.’
‘I thought so,’ said Imelda. ‘She likes you too.’
‘I am glad to hear it.’
‘Although she will not admit it.’
Daniel gave an encouraging nod. ‘Because she misses Mr Ellison?’ He knew it was unfair of him to ask the bairn, but he wanted very much to know what it was that Sarah Ellison was hiding.
Imelda snorted. ‘I do not think that likely!’
‘Why not, Miss Bowden?’
Imelda poked at a mark on the deck with the toe of her shoe. ‘She did not like him very much.’
‘Miss Imelda...’ warned the maid.
Imelda sent her an insolent look in return.
‘Mrs Ellison told you this?’
‘Of course, not. Aunt Sarah would never say such things to me. I am only ten years old!’ She looked at hi
m as if he were a simpleton, then glanced away with a guilty expression. ‘I once overheard my mama and papa talking about it. They said he was a scoundrel.’
‘But your aunt still wears her widow’s weeds four years after his death.’
‘Only to dissuade gentlemen. Aunt Sarah is very pretty,’ said Imelda and drew him a knowing look. ‘And very rich. Lots of gentlemen want to marry her.’ Imelda smiled.
‘That is understandable,’ said Daniel.
‘But Aunt Sarah doesn’t want to marry again, so she pretends she is still in mourning so that she doesn’t have to go to balls and routs, and be thought on the marriage mart, but the gentlemen called just the same. Mr Mallory, Mr Watkins, Mr Taverner—’ Imelda’s list was interrupted by the maid.
‘That is quite enough, Miss Imelda. Your aunt would be very angry if she knew what you were saying.’
‘Do you really want her to marry Mr Taverner?’ Imelda demanded.
‘Of course not, miss, but—’
‘Is your aunt then interested in marrying this Mr Taverner?’ Despite his apparent relaxed stance, Daniel’s senses sharpened as he waited for the answer.
Imelda gave a visible shudder at the thought and checked around before leaning forwards in a conspiratorial fashion. ‘It is true that they were courting...’
‘For the past few months,’ added the maid. ‘First man since Mr Ellison passed away. A real charmer is Mr Taverner, when he wants to be, and right handsome too.’
‘Anyway,’ Imelda resumed the story again, ‘Mr Taverner came to visit two weeks ago, late at night. Fanny and I sneaked downstairs and spied on them.’
Daniel raised an eyebrow at the maid, whose entire face flushed scarlet.
‘I was worried for Mrs Ellison, sir.’
‘We both were. I know it is not a nice thing to do, but Uncle Robert wouldn’t have fitted that spy hole through from his library to the drawing room if spying were really so terrible, would he?’ The wee lassie looked up at Daniel in total innocence.
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