He wasn’t sure he could call what was between them friendship, but neither would he admit to his true desire, not when she’d made hers clear enough. He could nonetheless speak another truth. With her hand still on his arm, he reached forward, touched her cheek. A mistake, he realized too late, as the satiny skin beneath his palm further reminded him what he was about to lose.
“I would be lying, Grace, if I said I won’t miss you.” Her trembling lips matched the trembling in his chest. Before he embarrassed himself, he lowered his hand. “We should go. I still have a ship to unload.”
*
“We’re not stealing, are we?” she asked, following Cale past the unconcerned horses into the barn. She didn’t mind the dark while safely tucked onto the ship, but not on land, and especially not on land she wasn’t familiar with.
“This is all Nate’s. He keeps it here for us. Normally the wagon is only used for transferring the bounty as it’s not a long walk to Nate’s home, but I thought this would be more comfortable for you than walking.”
“But how can Nate know when you’ll return?”
“He doesn’t.”
“And the horses are left here all the time?”
His large hands paused in their work and he looked at her. “He has a groom and a stable hand. The horses are tended and fed so you needn’t be worried for them. Nate doesn’t neglect what’s his.”
Neither do you. Her heart swelled as she looked at him. His face, chiseled from weather and the pain of his past, faded from light to shadow as he moved around securing the horses to the wagon. His every movement was efficient and soon they were on their way.
They were sitting so close every bump in the road had his thigh brushing against hers. The smell of him teased her with memories of how she’d kissed his skin, how it had felt against hers. She clutched at her skirt to keep from reaching for him. She bit her tongue to keep from telling him she’d changed her mind, she’d take him any way she could have him so long as they didn’t have to say goodbye.
Too soon, he pulled back on the reins. “We’re here.”
Her shoulders fell. “Oh.” And then she looked over, saw the large two-story house, the welcoming glow pouring from the numerous ground-level windows and breathed. “Oh.”
Dark shadows of trees surrounded the home, but Grace barely gave them notice. Her eyes were all on the house. It had a wide porch with three steps leading to the front door. On either side of those, large flower-filled urns stood proud and majestic. The stems within bowed under the heavy weight of the blooms, which perfumed the night air.
Thinking about the striking home, and wondering what kind of people Nate and Claire were to live in a house as grand as this while they maintained orphanages, Grace went woodenly through the motions of accepting Cale’s help down. The house was even more impressive up close. It was made of brick and the door was a work of art, with its intricate carvings she couldn’t help but trace with her fingers.
“’Tis a lovely house.” Then, remembering how she was dressed—in a worn and ragged dress with Cale’s shirt over top—she lowered her hand and took a step back.
“What is it?”
“I look like something left behind after the tide goes out.”
He’d extinguished the lantern and left it with the wagon. Yet the light seeping through the windows was enough to see his gaze rake her from head to toe before settling onto her face. “I’ve seen what the tide leaves behind and you don’t look a thing like it.” Cale turned and rapped soundly on the door.
Grace fiddled with the strings of the shirt, wiped her damp hands down her gown, then lifted them to smooth over the braid she’d thankfully thought to redo before climbing into the longboat. Still, she wished she’d have had hairpins to do something more fashionable with her tresses.
The house was solidly built and only the faintest of sounds trickled through the door and windows while they stood on the porch. But when the door swung open, they were assaulted with them.
Shrieks blasted through the doorway and Grace caught a glimpse of a naked tot running along the upstairs corridor, chased by red-haired woman carrying a towel. The boy squealed when an older woman, likely a nursery maid, came at him from the other direction, a towel in her hands as well. Then, from somewhere behind the tall, broad-shouldered man filling the doorway, came the shouts of two more children arguing. Judging by the rising voices and the thumps and bumps, Grace figured the argument was taking a physical turn.
The big man angled his head toward the rooms behind him and his voice drowned that of his children’s. “If I have to go in there, Vincent and Adam, you will be sorry.” Then he turned back to Cale and a grin spread across his face. “Well, look what the wind blew in.” He looked to Grace. His smile widened and his brows rose. “Hello?”
“Nate, this is Grace. Grace, Nate.”
“A pleasure,” Nate said and stepped aside. “Please, come in. I apologize in advance for the noise. The boys always seem to wind up just as we try to wind them down.” He closed the front door behind them then led them into the parlor. Cale and Grace took their place on one of the brocade sofas; Nate sat opposite them on a matching one.
While the furniture was polished and the wooden floors gleamed in the glow of the wall sconces, Grace couldn’t help but notice the house wasn’t nearly as stately and pristine on the inside as it had been upon first glance outside.
Two of the framed paintings hanging on the papered wall were crooked, as though they’d been knocked askew in a scuffle much like the one coming from beyond the room. There weren’t any fancy adornments or trinkets on the side tables or mantle—likely also due to said scuffles—but she did catch a glimpse of a wooden sword lying partially beneath the sofa on which Nate sat. It was a home, not simply a house and, despite her battered attire and Nate’s openly curious green eyes, Grace relaxed into her seat.
The same couldn’t be said for Cale. He sat forward, elbows braced on his knees. His booted foot tapped the floor. Cale’s discomfort seemed to amuse Nate. His lips twitched as he leaned back, stretched out his long legs and splayed his arms along the back of the sofa. Then his eyes—which reminded her of the green of Ireland—focused on her.
“Steele’s never had a woman on his crew before.”
“She’s not part of my crew. She was on the ship we looted and she was wounded.”
Nate’s brows creased then leveled. The twitch turned to a grin. “She looks fit to me.”
“It was a stab wound. It could have been worse,” Cale said.
At the mention of stab wound Nate’s grin shriveled and his eyes saddened. “You were lucky, then.”
“I was, yes,” Grace agreed.
“She was on Roche Santiago’s ship,” Cale added.
Nate’s gaze whipped to Cale. “You took on Santiago and lived to tell the tale? And you were on the man’s ship?” he asked Grace.
“Sure and it wasn’t by choice. He’d taken me captive a few months before.”
“Holy hell,” Nate muttered. “You better hope the man is dead or he’ll be coming after you. Both of you,” he added, looking at her then Cale. “Santiago isn’t known for his forgiveness. He’s gone after people for less.”
“Roche is no threat,” Cale stated with a hard stare at Nate. “We sank his ship after we unloaded it. It would take him hours to get to shore and pilfer another. Even if he has one by now, he has no way of knowing where I was heading.”
“Perhaps, but—”
“Grace needs a place to stay and some work. I thought Claire could use her help at Vincent’s House. Even if Roche is looking for me, he would have no reason to look for Grace here, therefore she’d be safe.”
Nate didn’t blink as Cale continued to glare at him. Silence, much as there could be with two rambunctious boys scrambling nearby, filled the room until Grace was sure the walls throbbed under the pressure. Finally Nate nodded in agreement.
“I’m sure Claire will find a place for her and, yes, she’ll be saf
e.”
“Who’ll be safe?”
The same red-haired woman and tot Grace had witnessed racing across the upstairs hallway strode into the room, though the child now wore his nightclothes. The woman could only be Claire.
Her gaze found Cale and she smiled. “Welcome back.”
“Papa!” The lad pushed away from his mother, who set him down on his bare feet. He raced on short, plump legs to his father.
Grace watched Nate’s face completely change. Hard lines smoothed out, his grin bloomed as he opened his arms. The little boy—no more than a year and half—ran full speed and didn’t stop until he was scooped off the floor and set onto his father’s lap.
My child will never have this. Grace looked upon the tender scene. Regret rose up the back of her throat. Her child would never know a father’s kiss on his brow, would never feel a man’s gentle hand ruffling his hair.
Claire came to stand beside Nate, set her hand on her husband’s shoulder. There were damp patches on the bodice and skirt of her day dress yet there was no mistaking the happiness glowing within her eyes. But it was the look Nate gave his wife when he looked up at her and placed his hand over hers that had Grace turning green with envy.
“Mama, Mama!” The slap of bare feet was heard a scant moment before a lad raced into the parlor. “Vincent won’t give my toy horse back to me.”
“He’s lying,” another boy—Vincent, she assumed—said as he, too, sped into the room and came to a sudden stop at his mother’s side. The boys were identical in height and appearance. “I told Adam he could have it.”
“Liar!” Adam shouted, his face flushed in outrage.
“You’re the liar.” Vincent tossed back, sticking his tongue out for good measure.
“Here, take Will.” Nate reached over the low table and handed his youngest to an unsuspecting Cale.
From the corner of her eye, Grace saw Nate pick up one of his twins while the other continued to hold Claire’s skirt. Nate’s firm tone put an end to the bickering. Then, with the patience of Job, he let first one boy then the other tell his tale. But her attention was riveted on Cale.
Will had his plump little hands on Cale’s face and he was petting him like he would a dog. The lad’s eyes were round as buttons and his mouth pursed as he rubbed Cale’s beard. Cale held the boy steady, his large hands nearly encompassing Will’s torso. Grace’s heart gave a sharp tug. It suited him. She’d thought it once, on the Revenge, how the idea of Cale being a family man fit him so much better than being a pirate. But the idea paled in comparison to what was before her eyes.
Cale held Will so the lad stood on his thighs. He said nothing as the boy rubbed his little hands over the beard.
“Fur,” Will stated, patting Cale’s cheeks.
Cale smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Not quite,” he answered.
“Me, too?” Will asked, placing his little hands on his smooth cheeks.
“Maybe one day,” Cale agreed.
“Me, too!” Will squealed, bouncing on Cale’s lap.
Lord, it was easy to imagine it wasn’t Will in Cale’s grasp but her own child. Hers and Cale’s.
“Not tonight, young man,” Nate said, jarring Grace back to reality as he took his son from Cale.
Will smacked his father’s cheeks, hairless except for a shadow of whiskers. “No fur.”
“No, no fur,” he agreed, digging his face into Will’s neck and making the lad shriek.
“We’re supposed to be putting them to bed, Nate.” Claire chided. The other two boys stood quietly at her side though they shuffled from foot to foot as though itching to be part of their father’s games.
Nate drew back, not looking the least sorry. “All right, you heard your mother. Time for bed.”
“Well, perhaps before we do that, we should make some introductions,” Claire said, turning to Grace. “I apologize for this to-do. Trying to put these three down for the night is like trying to herd flies. I’m Claire.” She placed a hand on the red-haired boy to her left. “This is Vincent, and this one…” She repeated the gesture on her right. “Is Adam. Nate is holding Will.”
“I’m Grace. I’m with Cale.”
“Cale now, is it?” Claire smiled as she looked to the man in question.
Realizing how her words had been interpreted, Grace hastened to add. “I meant I came on Cale’s ship. He thought, and I hope, perhaps I could work for you, in the orphanage. ’Twouldn’t be forever, only until I’ve enough money for passage back to Ireland.”
“The orphanage?”
Claire’s eyes darted from Grace to Cale. Grace didn’t miss Cale’s nearly imperceptible shake of his head, or the warning look he shot Claire.
“Oh, well, certainly we can use another pair of hands.” Claire added cheerfully. “And we can talk more about it in a moment.” She turned to the doorway. “You can have them now, Mrs. Davis.”
The maid Grace had seen upstairs earlier stepped quietly into the room. Her cheeks were plump and bright as ripe apples and her smile equally as sweet. She nodded to Grace, welcomed Cale back and then turned her attention to the boys. “Come, lads, I’ve a wonderful story for you tonight.”
“Your father and I will up in a few minutes to kiss you goodnight. Now, what do you say to our guests?”
They muttered goodbye then raced up the stairs ahead of Mrs. Davis. From upstairs came the sound of the nursery door closing and Nate sighed. “Ah, blessed quiet.”
Claire nudged him with her elbow. “You wouldn’t have it any other way.” They shared an intimate smile before she turned to Cale. “You don’t always manage to get here when the others do, I’m glad it fit into your schedule this time.”
Beside her Cale tensed. “The others are coming?”
“I’m expecting them tomorrow. Did you forget it’s Luke’s birthday?”
Cale’s head fell forward. “Damnation,” he muttered.
Nate laughed. “Too late to run now.”
“We always meet on our birthdays.” Claire explained. “Because Samantha and Luke live in St. Kitts and Blake and Alicia in Port Royal, we meet here as it’s in the middle. Cale,” she said, grinning, “manages to get here at least once or twice a year, but not as often as we’d all like. Aidan didn’t remind you?”
“It must have slipped his mind,” Cale grumbled.
“But you will stay, won’t you? I know it would mean the world to Samantha and Aidan.”
Of course, he would, Grace thought, feeling both the relief of having Cale one more day and the dread of knowing it would only make saying goodbye worse. Yet she knew he’d do it for Aidan. Despite his hurry to get back to sea, and, she suspected, his pain at seeing the couples with their children, he wouldn’t take away this chance for Aidan to see his family. He wasn’t that kind of man.
“I’ll stay,” he said, looking at Grace when he answered.
She saw it then, what her pride hadn’t allowed her to see the other day when he’d asked her to stay with him. This wasn’t easy on him either. Lines of worry creased from his eyes and across his brow. The eyes she’d once thought cold now tumbled hot with emotion. He may not be able to profess his undying love, may not be able to move past Catherine and the love they’d shared, but he did care for Grace. In fact, she’d wager he cared for her in a way he hadn’t cared about another since losing his family. He’d offered her the only thing he could and while it wasn’t enough for her, she could see now he, too, wished it could be different.
*
“Do not look at me that way, Claire.”
“Shh. Come here.” Claire grabbed Nate’s hand and pulled him across the hall into their bedroom. She closed the door, lit a lamp. “You cannot possibly tell me you didn’t see the way he looked at our sons.”
Nate sighed. “I saw, Claire. But we’ve noticed it before. Even the way he looks at Aidan sometimes.”
“Yes, but this was different. He’s never held them before.”
“I hardly gave him a choice. Wha
t was he to do, drop Will?”
“That was clever. Vincent would be proud of you.”
Nate leaned against the door, crossed his arms. He smiled at the memory of his friend. Vincent had been gone long enough now for Nate to think back on his friend, and Cale’s deceased brother, with fondness. “I may not be the meddler he was, but I could see a change in him. You’re right, he’s not usually so…cordial.”
“And he’s never brought a woman along before.” Mischief danced in her blue-green eyes. “And Grace called him Cale. We haven’t been allowed to call him by his real name since he took on Steele.”
“Claire…”
“It wasn’t only the look he gave our sons that gave me pause. Did you see how he looked at Grace? Clearly, there is something between them.”
“Then it’s between them.”
Claire laughed. “Have you forgotten where we’d be if it hadn’t been for Vincent and Blake meddling? They brought us together.”
Nate pushed from the door, crossed to his wife. He wrapped his arms around her waist. She tipped her head to meet his eyes, and the love he saw there never failed to astound him.
“I’d like to think I’d have been wise enough to realize the only treasure I ever needed was you, with or without their prodding.”
She pushed onto her toes, opened her mouth for his kiss. He gladly obliged, pulling her tight against his chest. He loved his house, had built it with Claire in mind, but anywhere was home as long as she was in his arms. He closed his lips over hers and lost himself in her kiss. Sweeping his tongue across her upper lip, his fingers crept around to her bodice. They’d made love earlier, while the boys had napped, but Nate couldn’t get enough of Claire. He prayed he never would.
“Nate.” Claire gasped as his fingers deftly found an aroused nipple.
“I want you, Claire. I want you naked beneath me. I want my—”
“Cale and Grace are downstairs waiting!”
“Damn.” He leaned his forehead against hers, caught his breath. “It’s your fault. You dragged me into the bedroom.”
Her Pirate to Love: A Sam Steele Romance Page 19
