“And what about Linford? Surely he would tell you.”
“No, he’s never said. He’s clearly suffering from it still. Pursuing you must have given him a temporary respite from the pain he’d experienced since Lenora’s death. From all I’ve heard, he’s never been the same.”
“It’s very sad. When he hired me, he seemed sad and distant, but the look in his eyes when I saw him with that knife buried in that man’s chest…well, I was frightened beyond words. I didn’t know what he was capable of.”
“It’s understandable. He’s not been in his right mind since Lenora married. I heard he tried to stop the wedding but arrived too late.”
Quentin took her hands in his. “I don’t want to be too late, Ally. Let’s not wait. Let’s get married now. Captains of ships may legally perform wedding ceremonies.”
“So I’ve heard.” She smiled.
“Let’s be Mr. and Mrs. Quentin Drake once we arrive in America.”
“I’m considering it,” Ally teased. “Still thinking about it.”
“I don’t want to be like Linford and Lenora and miss our chance at happiness.”
She loved teasing him, and she planned to keep him guessing for a while longer. They had several months’ long journey ahead of them and many plans to make. She pushed up on her tiptoes and kissed him full on the mouth.
Eagerly, he kissed her back and held her tight against his body. The wind and spray of the waves rammed the bow below them.
“You were on your way home before you found me in that stall,” Ally said. “Don’t you miss England?”
“Darling, I keep telling you that my home is wherever you are. True, I made my home in Manchester at one time, but then I was at sea, now I’m with you, and this is where I want to be forever.”
“I know, you keep telling me, and I love the sound of it.”
“Then I’ll keep saying it.” He whispered against her temple. “Home is wherever you are…and I want you to be my wife. I need you like a drowning man needs air.”
Ally snuggled deeper into the warmth of his arms and let his words crash over her.
“And furthermore,” he said, “we will build a stable where we’ll offer riding lessons for the blind and anyone else who wants to learn to ride.”
She burrowed her face within the layers of his wool frock coat and breathed in his heady scent. “I wish Rupert would have come with us.”
“I know you do, but completing school will be the best thing for him. Before you know it, he’ll join us. Besides, this gives us plenty of time to find the perfect place to live.”
“You’re right, of course.”
“I’m right about a good many things…like how I’ll make you a good husband.”
“I know you will.” She gazed into his gray eyes. “In fact, I’m sure of it.”
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my husband for not complaining too much about the stacks of books piled around the house. It’s all for research, I swear! Thank you to my parents for instilling in me the love of books and reading from a very young age, whether it’s imbedded in my DNA or because you led by example, I’m not sure, but whatever you did, it worked.
Thank you, Melinda for always being there.
Thank you, Boone Brux for your tough love right when I needed it.
Thank you to the numerous contest judges who volunteer your time. Your words of encouragement have kept me going over and over again. The romance writing community rocks, and that’s all I have to say about that.
To my critique partners, Jen, Anna, and Lynne. I simply could not write without these beautiful women in my life!
To my sons. Thank you for making every effort possible not to roll your eyes too hard when I tell you I have a new story idea.
To Robin Haseltine, Kerri-Leigh Grady, and Adrien-Luc Sanders, your awesomeness in editor expertise is beyond compare. Thank you for taking me under your wing doesn’t begin to cover it.
Lastly, thank you Liz Pelletier. Years ago, long before Entangled Publishing existed, you sent me an email. I printed it, and I keep it stashed away in a drawer. I pull it out every so often to re-read. I won’t re-type the entire email here, but here are a few key sentences: Seriously, I think I am an excellent judge of salability and your writing is definitely publishable. You, my dear, need to just suck it up and accept the fact that you are a writer. It’s what you were meant to do.
About the Author
Rebecca Thomas enjoys a love-hate relationship with Alaska. She lives there with her husband and two teen-aged sons where she appreciates all the unique things the last frontier has to offer. When she isn’t reading, writing, or playing board games, she is cheering for her sons at their hockey games and tennis matches.She loves to talk about books on:
Website: www.rebeccathomas.org
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/beccawriter
Twitter: @Rebecca_Thomas3
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