by Holt, Cheryl
Finally, they were attired for the walk back, and suddenly, he realized he was incredibly bereft.
He nearly grabbed her and insisted he hadn’t meant it. He nearly fell to his knees and begged her to stay with him, but a saner part of his brain warned him to remain silent. And he managed to listen.
“This is for the best, Helen,” he said.
“Of course it is,” she agreed, “and you’ve been so kind. Both in permitting us to dawdle at your camp and with you paying our fare. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”
“I don’t need your thanks. I just have to guarantee you get to England safe and sound.”
“We will. I have no doubt.” She was very glum, but struggling to conceal her low emotions. “Will you confide your real name before I depart? In my memories of you, I’d like to know who you were exactly. In the stories I tell about you, I shouldn’t have to refer to you as Nine Lives.”
“It’s Barrington,” he fibbed, with Barrington being his mother’s maiden name.
“Barrington? Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“It doesn’t fit you in the least. Did your chums call you Barry when you were a boy?”
“Yes,” he fibbed again.
“I can’t ever decide when you’re lying to me and when you’re not.”
She marched off, and he followed after her, feeling like the loneliest man in the world.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“You explained about her father?”
“Yes.”
“How did she handle the news?”
Hayden stared over at Robert and said, “Quite well actually. She was very stoic.”
“What happened to him? Was he run out of town by the authorities? Did he espy an old enemy so he fled? Did he dally with a trollop and anger her husband? What is your guess?”
“He’s a vile character,” Hayden replied, “so it might have been any issue.”
“I can’t imagine a man sending for his daughters, then stranding them in a foreign locale. Why would he waste funds on their passage if he didn’t intend to stay? They aren’t wealthy, so to me, that’s the strangest piece of this. Why would he fritter away so much money?”
“I couldn’t begin to speculate.”
They were on the beach at his camp and seated by the fire outside Robert’s tent. After Hayden had given his own to Helen and her sister, he’d been sharing it with Robert. It was late and quiet, and they were having a whiskey and assessing their plans. But Helen kept taking center stage in their discussion.
“From how Helen describes him,” Hayden said, “he’s an odd duck, with reckless habits and no common sense.”
Robert cocked his head. “So it’s Helen, is it? That sounds very cozy.”
“Why shouldn’t I be on familiar terms with her? I’ve rescued her several times, and I bought her a ticket to London.”
“And let’s not forget the afternoon you were gone for hours and she returned rumpled and wet. What were you doing with her?”
“I told you: swimming. I believe I’m entitled to call her by her Christian name.”
“If we were in England, you’d be halfway to the altar by now.”
“Well, we’re not in England.”
“If I was any sort of gentleman, I’d act as her champion and demand you marry her. Or at least that you behave yourself.”
“You could demand until the cows come home, but you could never sway me.”
“Why is that?”
“You know why,” Hayden said.
“You’re such a snob.”
“I don’t deny it.”
“She worships you.”
“She shouldn’t,” Hayden countered.
“She’s totally smitten.”
“Is that my fault?”
“Yes, you ass. I’ve constantly counseled you to watch out for girls like her. They don’t view the world as we do. She’ll have spun a fantasy scenario where the two of you wind up leg-shackled.”
“I can’t be responsible for her feminine delusions.”
“Even if you caused them?”
“Even then.”
“Will she have anywhere to go once she debarks in England?”
“She claims she can work as housekeeper for her cousin. Or if that doesn’t pan out, she has a friend who might hire her to teach at a boarding school.”
“You’re sure she wasn’t simply inventing stories so you don’t worry?”
“She seemed truthful.”
“Have you pried out any information as to where these places are situated or what types of people are involved? I’m concerned about the choices she makes. I’d like to be able to check on her in the future.”
Hayden scoffed. “We’re not ever checking on her.”
“Why shouldn’t we?”
“Because I refuse to be bothered. I warned you—the first day I met her—that trouble follows her like a cloud. I’m not interested in being her savior or her protector and she needs both.”
“What if she never finds her father?” Robert asked.
“How is that my problem?” Hayden cruelly retorted.
He hated to be so coldhearted, but he was feeling ghastly over having to part with her, and it had soured his mood. He couldn’t bear to upset her, and he was struggling to devise a means to fix their dilemma, but what were his options?
Would he let her sail with him on his ship? Would he flirt and woo her the entire way? When they arrived in England, perhaps he could take her to Middlebury. They could continue their affair until he found the princess or duke’s daughter he was determined to have.
Or perhaps they could separate, but he’d correspond regularly. His letters would be a little ray of sunshine in her dreary existence. She’d squander the passing years, wondering if he would ever break down and propose.
Then, out of the blue, he’d write to apprise her that he’d found himself a princess and had wed her. It would be malicious news, and she’d be crushed by it.
How was it to her benefit to pursue either conclusion?
There was no benefit, so he would escort her to Santa Cruz on Tuesday, and they would have a tender farewell on the dock—and that would be that. Their friendship would end. He’d remember her fondly, and he’d hope she had fond memories too.
“You’re awfully surly this evening,” Robert pointed out.
“I like her,” Hayden admitted, “and I feel terrible about this.”
“Not enough to assist her in a viable manner.”
“No. Not enough.”
“It doesn’t matter to you that she’s pretty, kind, educated, and graceful?”
“No.”
“It doesn’t matter that she’d grow to understand you better than any female ever could?”
“No.”
Robert snorted with disgust. “Sometimes, I think I haven’t taught you a damn thing.”
“You’ve taught me plenty, but you’re not exactly an expert on women. Why would I heed your advice on the subject?”
“I know a hell of a lot more about them than you ever will.”
“That’s likely true, but in this instance, it’s irrelevant. You’re aware of what I want.”
“A princess bride? The highest wife in the kingdom? Will a princess be big enough for you? Maybe you should shoot for a queen.”
“Maybe I should,” Hayden said without an ounce of humility. “Why shouldn’t I have whatever I wish now? I’ve paid my dues for any past sins. I intend to seize what I crave, and I don’t care about anybody’s opinion.”
“You’re such a vain prick.”
“Is that comment supposed to make me feel guilty?”
“Yes.”
Hayden chuckled. “It didn’t work.”
He refilled their whiskeys, and he raised his glass in a toast. “To us.”
“To us,” Robert echoed. “We survived.”
“We’ve survived so far. We won�
��t be completely safe until we step on British soil.”
“Miss Barnes and her sister are leaving on Tuesday. When will we go?”
“When I decide the ship is ready.”
“You’re so bloody cautious.”
“With valid reason.”
“We could risk it and sail the day after she does.”
“Why would we?”
“We could keep an eye on her. We could intervene if there’s trouble.”
Hayden sighed with exasperation. “How many times must I spell it out for you? We’re not fussing with her! Or her tart-of-a-sister! You’re constantly nagging me about them. Are you expecting you can change my mind?”
“Yes. You know I believe in Fate. You know I believe some things are meant to be—and some things aren’t. What are the chances you would cross paths with her on Tenerife?”
“Don’t read more into this than there needs to be,” Hayden said. “There’s no destiny arising. I’m headed to England—finally—and I won’t be burdened or delayed by her predicament.”
“Have you even told her we’re on our way to England too? Have you bothered to explain we could have taken her with us, but you refused?”
“Why would I tell her that?”
“I’m certain she’s in love with you and figuring you’ll marry her. If she accidently learns about it—from my boys or a sailor—she’ll be incredibly hurt.”
“So what, Robert? Why can’t you desist with your pleas on her behalf?”
“I feel sorry for her.”
“You feel sorry for everyone.”
“That’s not true. I don’t feel sorry for you.”
“Pay attention, Robert. Her father is a vicar. Not only is she the daughter of a preacher, but he just happens to be disgraced and defrocked. Why would you assume I’d choose such a common person to be my bride?”
“You have many problems,” Robert said. “A man can’t live through what you have and not suffer mental difficulties. The ordeals you’ve endured? They mess with a fellow’s head. The trauma of it doesn’t ever really ebb.”
“I realize that.”
“You need a girl like her by your side. Not some snooty ice princess. You need a girl who cares about you, who will stick with you through thick and thin.”
“I’m sure—out of all the highborn women in Europe—I can find one who is compassionate. For I can guarantee I would never stoop so low as to select a penniless spinster like Helen Barnes. It doesn’t matter how kind she might be. I deserve better.”
It was a horrid remark, and he shouldn’t have voiced it, but Robert was from an elevated family too. He understood the ways of the world. He understood British ways.
He was pretending his years at sea had altered him into a bohemian. He’d wed Marguerite at a distraught moment when he’d been injured and ill, so he liked to imagine he would never behave as Hayden would behave.
But Hayden would wager a thousand pounds—if a pretty princess strolled by and agreed to marry Robert—he’d jump at the opportunity. Even if he was courting a sweet, ordinary female who adored him, he’d pick the princess.
They weren’t actually arguing. Hayden saw Robert’s point, and Robert saw his. They simply enjoyed having the freedom to chat without an armed, violent brigand hovering over them and ordering them to shut up.
But before they could bicker a bit more, they heard footsteps scurrying away behind them. Apparently, someone had been dawdling in the shadows, and the discovery was unnerving.
They didn’t like to become so distracted that they ignored their surroundings. Their camp was very safe, but they hated surprises.
“Who was that?” Robert asked.
“I have no idea. It’s very late. Who’s up besides us?”
Robert walked over and glanced down the beach. When he returned, he was frowning.
“It was Helen Barnes,” he said.
“Oh, no. Do you think she was listening to us?”
“Probably. How could she not have been?”
They grimaced with distaste, and Hayden muttered, “Dammit.”
“My feeling exactly. Good luck fixing this, you rude dog.”
Robert downed his whiskey and stomped into his tent.
Hayden loitered in the dark, wondering if he should chase after her. He could bluster over and demand to talk to her. Of course, that would wake her sister and the nosy strumpet would pose questions that were none of her business. Hayden had no desire to engage in such a dreadful scene.
He hadn’t meant what he said. Well, he’d meant it, but he hadn’t intended for her to learn his frank opinion. He’d upset her—again. What if he marched in and she gave him the tongue-lashing he deserved?
Such a hideous confrontation was too ghastly to consider, so he’d track her down in the morning. He’d confer with her when she’d be calmer, when she’d be sensible and prudent. He’d explain himself, and she’d forgive him. Or at least he thought she would.
What if she didn’t? What if they parted on bad terms? What if—for the last day they had together—she refused to speak to him?
What if? What then?
He’d…he’d…
He couldn’t guess how he’d react.
He filled his glass with whiskey and drank it down. Filled it again and gulped that too. He stared up at the heavens and, as he’d been doing for years, he cursed the stars, cursed Fate, cursed his old nemesis Alex Wallace, cursed himself.
Then he staggered into Robert’s tent where he would lie down and try to sleep, but there was no doubt about it. It would be a very long night.
* * * *
Becky strolled through the camp, pretending she was wandering with no purpose, but she had an important goal. She was determined to locate Will Stone and force him to chat.
After his father had caught them on the beach, he’d been avoiding her. His father must have warned him to stay away from her, and the prospect was infuriating. During their illicit walk, the stupid oaf hadn’t even held her hand, let alone kissed her as she’d been dying to have happen.
They were about to depart, and the plans had all occurred so suddenly. For a month, they’d been stranded in Santa Cruz then—poof!—like magic, they were on their way home.
Ever since they’d left England, she’d been complaining to Helen about how she wished they hadn’t. But now, with it abruptly arranged for them to return, she was terribly conflicted.
Why go to England? What would they do there?
Helen wanted to trudge to Middlebury to work for their snooty cousin, Desdemona Henley, but Becky couldn’t imagine it. Helen was willing to lower herself by toiling away as a housekeeper to keep a roof over their heads. Yet how was Becky supposed to occupy her time at Middlebury? Would she have to slave away as a scullery maid to earn her supper?
The notion was too irksome to contemplate.
Her objective in life was to escape her father’s machinations by finding a husband. How would she accomplish it if she was locked away at Middlebury? What man worth having would be interested in the sister of the housekeeper?
Helen was in their tent packing. She’d been up early and, for some reason, was grouchy as a wounded bear. She’d been slamming about for hours, and the limit for Becky had been reached when Helen claimed they weren’t taking any of the dresses Nine Lives had given them.
Helen intended to leave all the pretty clothes behind! When Becky had called her an idiot, they’d quarreled quite vehemently—which was incredibly unusual for them. Helen never grew angry, no matter what. Ultimately, her sister had tossed her out, telling her if she was going to be a pest she didn’t need to help.
Becky had been delighted to dodge her chores, but if she discovered that none of their new dresses were in their traveling trunks, she would dump everything on the floor and repack. She wouldn’t show up in England looking dowdy and plain.
She rounded a stack of crates and found Will seated on a pile of rope. H
e was mending a sail with a needle and thread, using neat, small stitches, the type she’d never been able to achieve. She didn’t have the patience for sewing.
“There you are!” she brightly stated.
“Oh. Hello, Becky.”
He didn’t grin or rise to greet her. He kept his hips balanced on the rope.
“I’ve never seen a man with a needle and thread before,” she told him.
“I’m a sailor,” he replied. “I have to know how to make repairs, and they have to be good ones or I could imperil all my mates.”
“You’re very serious.”
“I am.”
He continued stitching, and she frowned, hating his disregard.
“We’re departing tomorrow,” she said. “For England. Nine Lives paid our fare.”
“I heard.”
“He’s been searching for our father. Apparently, he landed on Tenerife, then he left again right away.” She laughed as if her father’s conduct was funny. “We came all this way to be with him, and he’s not even here.”
“I heard that too.”
An awkward silence festered, and finally, she asked, “Are you mad at me?”
He glanced up at her. “No.”
“Then why are you acting like this?”
“Like what?”
“I thought we were friends.”
“We are.”
She forced a smile. “Will you miss me?”
“Sure.”
She scowled, desperate to figure out how she could shift them back to the flirtatious spot they’d previously enjoyed. “Why are you so grumpy? Was it your father? Was he upset that we were walking on the beach? Has he ordered you to stay away from me?”
He stared at her with his delicious blue eyes. “My father wasn’t upset. He simply reminded me to watch out around you. He’s smart about those sorts of issues, so I listened to his advice. I’m being careful.”
“Careful!” she huffed. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”
“We could though—if we were off by ourselves.”
“Only if I had loose morals and let you misbehave! And I don’t have loose morals.”
He shrugged. “I can’t be ensnared by a girl like you.”
