He shoved open the door and quickly slammed it behind him. He paused and tipped his head back against the door, grateful to be out of the storm. Lord, but he was so damn tired.
When Alanna’s fever had broken last night he’d returned to the lighthouse to inspect the light. He’d stayed away most of the day, partly because there was work to be done and partly because he didn’t want to see Alanna. Seeing her had stirred too many ghosts from his past.
Still, no matter what his feelings, he could only avoid her but so long. Until he put her back on a Virginia-bound coach she was his responsibility.
Sighing, he lit the lantern he kept by the back door. Its soft halo of light warmed the small entryway as he shrugged off his wet double-breasted coat and hung it up on a peg. He eased his aching body down to a small bench and pulled off his boots.
Alanna had not changed at all, he thought as he tucked the boots neatly under the bench. Her blond curls still glistened like spun gold and her skin was as smooth as cream. Though she was too thin for his tastes, she was still as stunning as ever.
Self-consciously, he rubbed his fingers over the scar on the side of his face.
When the boiler had exploded on the Intrepid, he had been blown free of the boat. But the explosion that had saved his life had also marked him forever with a scar that stretched from his temple down his cheek to his chin. The skin beneath his eye puckered, drawing his left eye down slightly.
Viewed from the right, his face looked as it always had. But from the left, there was no hiding the mark or stopping the questions that followed. When he’d first moved to Easton, the children had been afraid of him. Most of the villagers tried to pretend they didn’t see the scar or know about the accident. But often he’d catch someone staring or hear them whispering about him.
Caleb had never considered himself a vain man. He’d never owned a mirror and he gave only the bare minimum of time to his appearance.
But with Alanna here, he felt self-conscious.
Damn Alanna. She still had the power to turn his life upside down.
Bitterness settled in his heart as he straightened. A thousand times he’d pictured their meeting. In his mind’s eye, she’d always been the nervous one—the one off balance. Yet, here he stood worrying over her reaction to him.
Picking up the lantern, he moved into the kitchen where the nutty aroma of coffee greeted him. Puzzled by the fresh smell, he lifted the lid. He’d made coffee last night and expected it to be as thick as tar. But to his surprise, the brew wasn’t thick, nor did it smell burned. He gave thanks for the small miracle.
“It’s fresh.” Alanna’s smoky voice startled him.
At the sound of her voice, he stiffened and retreated a step toward the shadows. “You made coffee?”
“Believe it or not, yes.”
He found her in her stocking feet, leaning against the doorjamb. Her braided hair draped over her shoulder like a seaman’s rope. The pants and sweater he’d left for her accentuated the curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts.
Leaving the clothes had been a practical move, since her clothes were ruined. But he’d never quite expected the prim Miss Patterson to don the rough clothes. Nor had he expected her to look so good in them.
For just a moment, he was transported back to a time when he’d run his hands over those hips. She’d come to him in his cabin, willing and wanting and he’d been unable to refuse what she’d been offering.
Then he’d believed they’d be together forever. He’d wanted nothing more out of his life than to spend time with her. With the small fortune he’d earned, he’d planned to build a house by the sea for them and fill it with their children and laughter.
He tore his gaze from her and poured himself a mug of coffee. “You found the clothes.”
“Yes, thank you.”
Suddenly, he was very aware of all that he’d lost. Turning away from her, he touched the rough skin of his scars. He tightened his fingers around the mug.
In her stocking feet, she moved into the kitchen toward the stove. She still walked with the straight-backed poise of a queen. Always the queen.
She reached for the coffeepot.
When she’d been ill, he’d been able to be more objective about her. Now she was awake and looking like the Alanna he remembered, his unease grew.
“The coffee’s good,” he said.
“Thanks,” she said, offering a wan smile.
Their relationship had been one of extremes. Fire and ice, never this awkward civility that grated his nerves. He wondered if this was how it was for her and Henry. Was she polite and pleasant or did her blood run hot each time she saw him? “I’m surprised Henry would allow his fiancée in the kitchen with the help.”
She glanced up at him, her gaze piercing. The girlishness that had once been in Alanna’s eyes had vanished. “I learned to be independent after Father’s death and my circumstances were redefined.”
“Redefined.” His lips curved into a smile. “Only you could make poverty sound noble.”
Her voice turned cold. “There wasn’t anything noble about it. All our friends abandoned us. We were alone.”
“Except for Henry.” He hated the stab of jealousy.
Steam rose from her mug. He watched as she stepped back, as if she, too, needed the distance. “I didn’t come out here to fight with you. I came out to thank you again for saving my life.” She hesitated. “There’s a dress in the chest in the parlor. Can I have it?”
He wasn’t letting her off the hook that easily. “Why?”
She pursed her lips. “I’m altering it. I certainly can’t return home looking like this.”
It would be easy to be petty about the dress. He didn’t owe her a damn thing. And it would serve her right to return home in breeches and have to explain herself to Henry. “It’s yours.”
His concession seemed to surprise her. When she spoke her tone softened. “Thank you for all that you’ve done for me.” She turned to leave, then stopped. “If it’s worth anything, I’m sorry I came. I should have known that nothing good would come of this visit.”
The unsaid words that had festered in him burned his gut. “Is that all you regret?”
Anger colored her cheeks and her eyes spit fire. “What else would you have me apologize for? I didn’t do anything wrong.”
His fingers bit into his mug. He swore he’d not bring up the past—to acknowledge the past gave it a place of importance it did not deserve. Alanna did not deserve an extra second of his time.
But logic was a poor choice against strong emotions. And before he could stop the words, they tumbled out like bits of broken glass. “Did you bother to read even one of my letters?”
She flinched as if he’d struck her. Her cheeks flushing, she dropped her gaze.
He smacked the cup down on the table. Hot coffee sloshed over his hand. He wanted her to look him straight in the eye. “I loved you, Alanna. I went through hell and back to return to you. I wanted us to be together forever.”
His words had her head lifting. Anger had flattened her full lips. She took a step toward him. “I used to believe that until your arrogance ruined us all.”
In an instant, he closed the gap between them and grabbed her.
Chapter Six
Alanna gasped as Caleb closed the distance between them. He caught her wrist and pulled her roughly to him until they were nose to nose. His blue eyes blazed bright.
The lantern light shadowed his face, sharpening the edges. Rawboned and dangerous, she thought for an instant, she gazed into the face of the Devil himself.
His hot breath brushed her skin. “You’re right, Alanna. I was arrogant. I believed I could control everything in this world.”
She stared into his eyes, looking for a hint of the man she’d once known. Once they’d been so close she would have sworn they could read each other’s thoughts. Together they had been whole, each possessing what the other needed. Now, they were strangers.
“I d
on’t know you anymore.”
“I could say the same.”
She winced. “You’re hurting me.”
Caleb released her as if he’d been scorched. He stepped back but the fury had not cooled in his eyes. “Your father got what he wanted after all. We are completely destroyed.”
A wiser woman would have backed down, veered from these dangerous waters. A wiser woman would have bided her time until the storm passed and she could escape this madness. But the anger and hurt inside her was a wound that would not heal. “My father had nothing to do with the Intrepid sinking. No one is to blame but you. You were the captain.”
The muscle in Caleb’s jaw pulsed as if he struggled with unnamed emotions. She tensed, waiting for him to fire more irate words.
“You’re right.” His voice sounded eerily calm. “I am to blame. The ship and her men were my responsibility.”
The sadness lacing his admission threw her off guard. Pity and concern washed over her. In defense she crossed her arms over her chest and mentally shored up her defenses.
“Until the day I die,” he said quietly, “I will regret what happened.”
“Then why are you blaming my father?”
His voice grew calm, deadly. “My arrogance contributed to the accident but it didn’t sink the Intrepid, Alanna.”
Coldness spread through her body and settled into her bones. “What are you saying?”
“It was sabotage. Someone rigged the boiler to explode.”
Suspicious, she shook her head. “Your men were sloppy. They stored jars of turpentine too close to the boiler.”
“Wrong.”
“Who would do such a thing?” she challenged.
“Your father.”
His answer was so ridiculous, yet her knees started to shake. “You are grasping at straws, Caleb. My father wouldn’t sabotage the Intrepid. It was the finest ship in his fleet.”
Something crossed his face—pain, betrayal, disbelief. “It’s true.”
Hysterical laughter bubbled inside her. She’d have given her last penny if she could simply wake up from this nightmare. “Really, Caleb, only a coward would pawn off his failings on a dead man.”
His fingers curled into tight fists. “I’m no coward. Your father blew up the Intrepid.”
Dark fears locked in her heart screamed to be heard. She remembered the Thursday afternoon she’d come home late after a meeting with the grocery. They’d been discussing her past-due bills. The house had been too dark and too quiet, but she’d been so worried over the failing finances, the subtle changes had not registered. She barged into her father’s study. She’d found him slumped over his desk, dead, a gun in his hand.
The memory had her stomach jumping. She never knew why her father had killed himself, but it couldn’t have been for the reason Caleb was suggesting. “Liar.”
A shadow of resentment crossed his eyes before he grabbed her by the arm, picked up the lantern, and started down the hallway.
“Let go of me!” she shouted.
He tightened his hold. “Not until you’ve learned a thing or two.”
Panicked, she stumbled as she tried to keep up with his long strides. “Where are you taking me?”
“Down a peg or two.” He dragged her down the hallway as if she weighed nothing more than a sack full of feathers. When he reached the first closed door in the hallway, he opened it and shoved her inside.
She stumbled a step or two before she caught herself. “How dare you!”
Closing the door behind him, he took time to light another lantern. As the light grew brighter, Alanna could see that she was in his room. A large four-poster bed, with a meticulously smooth white bedspread, dominated the center.
She remembered the last time they’d shared a bed. Lying in his arms had felt so natural, so right. Savagely, she shoved the memory aside.
“I need to get out of this room.”
His gaze followed her to the bed. He frowned. “You really don’t know me that well at all, do you?”
“Let me go!”
“Not yet, Alanna.”
To her surprise, he brushed past her toward a rolltop desk she’d not noticed when she’d come in. As he moved away from her, her heart slowed and she had a chance to study the room. Tall shelves filled with books, a single window that looked out toward the lighthouse, a bureau and a chair by the hearth. Simple, efficient, just like the man.
He pushed back the top, revealing ledgers, maps and books stacked on the desk. He opened a shallow drawer in the center of the desk and pulled out a stack of papers, yellowed and tattered from handling. He flipped through a half-dozen pages before he found the right one.
Turning the page around, he tapped his long tapered finger on a yellowed page. “Read this.”
She kept her arms at her side, her gaze on him, but her throat went suddenly dry. “Lies can be written as easily as they are spoken.”
His eyes narrowing, his voice deepened. “I was always honest with you. Admit it.”
She had never known him to lie. “Perhaps you are more clever than I ever thought.”
He jabbed his finger against the page. “You didn’t come all this way to give me that damn box. Deep inside you there’s doubt. I know why your father shot himself, Alanna.”
The tears were quick and hot and they forced her to close her eyes until she could gather her control. “That has nothing to do with this.”
“Doesn’t it? I think you’re the one that’s lying now. You’re wondering why he’d do such a thing. You are wondering why his fortune evaporated. You’re wondering if maybe, just maybe, I’m not the monster he said I was.”
She had never spoken of her doubts to anyone, but they plagued her like ghosts. They loomed around her and poisoned her days. “I have no doubts.”
“Then you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.”
Her throat tightened with two years of pent-up emotion. “Father said the ship sank because you and your men were sloppy and careless.”
Caleb nodded. “I took daring risks with the weather, I’ll admit to that. But I ran a tight ship. My men were the finest at what they did. But there’s a big difference between risk and suicide.”
Fear coiled around her heart even as she tried to deny it.
“Look at the ledger,” he dared softly.
She slowly lowered her gaze. It was a copy of a bank note. She scanned the document. It stated that her father had taken out a large loan, due the first of August. The amount was staggering. One hundred thousand dollars. A king’s ransom!
“This doesn’t prove anything. Father may have made poor investment choices but that doesn’t make him a saboteur.”
“Think back to the last weeks. Your father changed. Admit it.”
She thought back to the weeks before the accident. Her father had grown quiet, withdrawn and he’d drunk heavily. His about-face regarding their wedding had been so unexpected. “Father wouldn’t sink the Intrepid. That ship was the pride of his fleet.”
The words struck at unspoken doubts she’d always harbored about her father. When she’d asked him what was the matter, he had fobbed it off. Only after his death did she learn how deeply in debt he truly was.
Caleb took the papers from her and laid them on the desk. He hitched his hip against the side and leaned back, his arms folded over his chest. “Pride was a luxury he could no longer afford. He was broke, Alanna. Sinking the ship and collecting the insurance money was the only way he could survive.”
“How did you get these papers?”
His gaze bore into her as if he were trying to read her thoughts. “I came to your house.”
Fighting for control, she clenched her fists. “When?”
“Right after the inquest adjourned.”
The inquest. It was during those hot listless days that she’d lost the baby. Those were the days she’d lain in her bed, her bedroom curtains closed. “Father never told me that.”
He made a sound that might have bee
n a laugh. “I asked to see you, but he said you weren’t available to receive me.”
The thought that he’d been so close unsettled her. Lord, but she’d needed him then. “That doesn’t explain the papers. Father wouldn’t have given them to you.”
“I doubled back later that night when everyone was asleep. I broke in.” He shoved out a sigh. “I still knew the combination to his safe so it was easy.”
“What would make you suspect Father?”
“I didn’t at first.” His voice grew distant as his mind traveled back to the accident. “That last night, we were in the middle of the storm. I was on the quarterdeck. The seas were rough but the Intrepid was holding together just fine. I knew we’d ride it out. Then one of my men came running up to me. He said there was a fire near the boiler room and the room stank of turpentine. He said before the flames grew too hot he saw shattered glass on the floor and a jar lid.”
“Father said the boiler wasn’t maintained properly and your men were sloppy.”
“My men knew their duty. And the boiler was working fine until the fire broke out and we’d not taken on a drop of water at that point.” He sighed. “Seconds later, the fire spread and the boiler blew the underside of the ship out. I was blown clear of the ship into the water. I struck my head on something. I’d have drowned if one of my men hadn’t dragged me onto a piece of wreckage. They told me later that the ship sank within ten minutes.”
“That doesn’t mean Father was to blame.”
“As I said, I didn’t suspect him at first. The events leading up to the accident were hazy and I was wrapped in my own grief.”
“What changed your mind?”
“At the inquest, your father submitted an inventory of the ship’s cargo. The instant I read it I knew it was fake. The claim was for five times the actual value. Coincidentally, the payout would have been about one hundred thousand dollars.”
“Fraud,” she whispered. “There was never any mention of fraud at the inquest. I would have heard.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Why?”
“At that point money didn’t matter to me. I’d lost my ship and my men. And Obadiah was your father. If he were exposed as a thief there’d have been scandal. I wanted to shield you from all that.”
Mary Burton Page 6
