Never Too Late For Love (Heroes Of The Sea Book 9)

by Danelle Harmon

  “I’ve reached the end of my patience. I’m going home and so are you.”

  “But—” Liam thought of Annis and felt momentary panic. “Why?”

  “Females. You do know, don’t you, that you and Mrs. Cutter are being conspired against? That there’s a small navy of matchmakers trying to get you together? I came here to warn you.” A window exploded just behind them, a shower of glass raining down near their feet, a chair bouncing once, twice off the cobblestones. Kieran merely moved a few feet away, unfazed. “I’ve got a headache from listening to their scheming. I’m going home. If you’re smart, you’ll join me.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. We’ll have breakfast in the morning with Rosalie’s family, then I’m catching the tide and making sail for Newburyport.”

  “But—”

  “So get your dunnage and get it aboard. Tonight, if possible.”

  “God almighty, Kieran, this is short notice.”

  The door burst open and the fight spilled out onto the street around them in a yelling dervish of thudding fists, howls and curses, laughter, shouts and grunts. Blood flew from a broken nose. A body fell at their ankles, got up, threw itself back into the fight. Kieran merely moved them a short distance away, out of the brunt of it.

  “I need my lieutenant. If you don’t go, I’ll be forced to ask Stephen to take your place, and Rosalie’s likely to be more than a little miffed at dragging her away when she, her sister and their mother are up to their necks in scheming and mischief.”

  “Wait.” Liam tore his envious stare from the fight. “You’re leaving? Because of me?”

  “Yes, because of you. Or rather, because of feminine scheming against my best friend. Better that we just remove ourselves from it, so that you can’t be caught in a place you don’t want to be and I don’t get caught feeling guilty for not having done more to stop it.”

  “But—”

  Kieran pulled him further from the fight, which now encompassed a horde of men all rolling on the street, and yelled to be heard over the sound of it. “There are no buts. I’m taking Sandpiper home. And if you know what’s good for me, you’ll go with me.”

  Another window exploded outwards in a rain of glass. Kieran eyed it with disdain, shook his head, and leaving Liam standing there with mouth agape, turned and walked off into the night.

  Liam stood for a moment and watched him, his mouth tight and his fists itching. Damn. Damn!

  Without another word, he turned and threw himself into the fight.

  Chapter 12

  Annis spent the evening going through the motions.

  Going through the motions of selecting gowns for her stay in Montserrat, laying them on her bed, putting this one back, taking that one out. Putting them all back. Taking them all back out.

  Damn him.

  Her maid might’ve helped her select clothing, fold and pack it, but Annis was not in the mood for company, not even sweet Gertie’s. She felt tired and drained.

  Defeated.

  She had hoped Liam might be the love of her life or at least, the love of the second part of her life. She had hoped he’d come back here to see her. To spend time with her. To maybe offer a commitment. They had spent time together, they’d had a glorious day, and then he’d given her a proposal that had felt hollow, forced, and superficial.

  As if he, too, were going through the motions.

  It would have been better, far better, if he hadn’t proposed. If they’d just spent the night together with no expectations, enjoying each other’s company. A proposal. If that, indeed, was what his strange declaration, not even a question, really, could even have been called.

  We ought to be together, Annis.

  But he didn’t want to change. Didn’t want to leave the life he found so comfortable. Didn’t want to take a chance. He certainly didn’t love her. What did that leave?

  Nothing.

  In the distance she heard a knock on the downstairs door, and then Gertie was there, poking her head into the room. “Your niece is here, Missus. ’Tis Miz Rosalie. Shall I show her to the parlor?”

  For a moment, Annis stared ahead at the wall, the paper with its cheerful spring daffodils against a lilac background, the little birds flying amidst the flowers with abandon. She didn’t feel like going downstairs. She didn’t feel like seeing anyone, but she didn’t want to hurt feelings, either.

  “I suppose she won’t believe an excuse that I’m asleep, indisposed, or resting.”

  “I suppose not,” Gertie said, biting her lip. “She’s rather persistent.”

  “Send her up, then.”

  Gertie retreated, and a moment later there were steps on the stairs and Rosalie was hurrying into the room.

  “Aunt Annis? What’s the matter?”

  Everything. Nothing.

  The sight of her niece, so in love with her handsome captain, blooming with life and happiness, brought an envious pang to Annis’s heart that caught her by surprise. She turned away, pretending to fold a shawl she’d tossed across the bed so she wouldn’t have to meet Rosalie’s searching gaze. “Why child, nothing is the matter. Just taking a break from my packing to rest. I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed, I am. So much to do!”

  Rosalie narrowed her eyes every so slightly. “Aunt Annis, I think—”

  “How about this one? Annis asked briskly, tossing the shawl aside and seizing a gown that lay across her bed. “This pale green silk, or the this cream muslin with the capped sleeves? It’ll be dreadfully hot down there, so I’m thinking the muslin would be the better choice.” She held up the gown. “What do you think?”

  “We’re going back to Newburyport tomorrow.”

  At the flat, emotionless statement, something stopped in Annis’s chest and she realized it was her heartbeat.

  “.... Going home?”

  “Yes.” Rosalie’s lower lip trembled. “He wants to go home.”

  “He?”

  Oh, no.

  “He. My husband.”

  “But ... but you just got here!”

  “I know.”

  “Why does he want to leave?”

  “He won’t tell me. Kieran’s a private person, and some things he keeps to himself.” The younger woman was wringing her hands. “But when he gets stubborn about something, there’s no changing his mind. We’re leaving in the morning, right after breakfast. I wanted you to know.” Sudden tears rose in the young woman’s eyes, began to spill down her freckled cheeks. “I—I’m sorry....”

  Annis dropped the gown and took her niece into her arms. “Oh, dearest....”

  “I just wanted to stay here for a while, be with my family, think about this child in my belly and share my joy with you all. I wanted to stay here for Christmas. I don’t want to go home just yet.” She sniffled, dabbing at her eyes with her knuckles. “This is home, really.”

  “No, home is up north for you now. In Newburyport.”

  “Everyone I love is here. My family.”

  “Whatever’s gotten into you? It’s not like you to be the tearful sort, Rosalie.”

  The younger woman nodded and seemed to gather herself. “I know. I ... I don’t know what came over me, Aunt Annis. It must be the babe in me. I don’t feel like myself, one minute I’m happy and the next I’m sad, and sometimes I’m not sure I even know who I am anymore.”

  “Now, now,” Annis soothed. She sat down on the bed, patting the space beside her until Rosalie joined her. She put her arm around her niece’s shoulders and hugged her close. “Listen, honey. I know it’s hard to be away from home, and I know that it takes time to adjust to a new place. I had to do it myself, a long time ago, when we left Edinburgh. How old was I then? Ten years? Eleven? Give it time, child. Give it time.”

  Rosalie just nodded, sucking her lips between her teeth to quell another outburst.

  “Will you come and visit us sometime, Aunt Annis?”

  “Well, I’m about to head down to your uncle’s for the winter,” she said gently, �
��but maybe when I return I’ll give it some thought.”

  Rosalie looked bleak. “I don’t know why we even have to leave.”

  Annis drew her close. “I don’t know your Kieran very well, yet,” she said, “but he strikes me as a man of immense wisdom and depth. A man who’ll do anything for you. If he wants to go home, it must be something profoundly important to him.”

  Rosalie nodded.

  Annis mustered as much cheerfulness as she could pretend. “And what of Lieutenant Doherty?” she asked, trying to keep her tone casual. As if she didn’t care. “Will he go back, too?”

  “Liam will go wherever Kieran goes.”

  Of course he would.

  Annis felt her heart sink, and despair to pit in her stomach. It was as she’d expected, really. As she’d predicted. Liam cared more for his promise to his dead friend, his obligations to that dead friend’s grown children, than he did for his own future. And he would use that promise as an excuse not to take a chance on love.

  On commitment.

  “I’m sorry, Aunt Annis. I’d hoped we’d be here at least through Christmas. But you’re leaving in a day or two so what does it matter, anyhow? It’ll feel empty here if you’re not here. Something will be missing. Now Stephen’s saying he wants to see Newburyport and the new schooner that Kieran’s uncle Matthew is building, so I guess he’s going with us. Pepper, too, because she thinks Kieran’s cousin Nathan is worth sailing four hundred miles to meet and she’s already plotting his conquest. Seems there’s not much to stay for, I guess, with everyone going somewhere.”

  “And you think that’s why Kieran has this sudden wish to return home? To show his hometown to your siblings, and talk shipbuilding?”

  Unreasonably, Annis felt a stab of resentment toward Rosalie’s husband. Did everyone’s lives revolve around the wishes of Kieran Merrick?

  “No, I think it’s deeper than that. He will tell me, of course, when he’s ready. But that doesn’t make things feel any better, now. I just want ... I just want everything to be different.”

  “I know. Life doesn’t always go the way we would like it to, does it?” She hugged her niece close, glad that the double-meaning of her words was lost on Rosalie. “But you have a fine husband and a good life up north. Lots of nice things to go home to.” She smiled gently. “Baltimore isn’t going anywhere.”

  Rosalie nodded jerkily, got to her feet, raised her shoulders, and let them fall again as she pulled herself together with a deep and steadying breath. “Thank you, Aunt Annis. You always know how to make me feel better.”

  “That’s what aunts do.” She smiled to cover her own sorrow.

  “Will you come to the docks in the morning to see us off?”

  Annis stood up and turned so that her niece would not see the pain she could no longer hide. No, she did not want to go to the docks to see Liam Doherty sail out of her life, this time likely for good. No she did not want to stand there and see Sandpiper take her family away, and the only man she’d met since her husband had died that she’d felt could offer her love and happiness. A man she’d had fun with, a man who knew how to make her smile, make her laugh, make her angry and make her hope and dream and feel desire.

  A man who made her feel young again.

  Sailing off again tomorrow.

  “I’ll be there,” she said firmly, and only she knew how hard it was to say those three words.

  Chapter 13

  Morning.

  It dawned raw and cold, with a stiff wind out of the northwest that tore at the leaves still clinging to the elm outside Annis’s bedroom window and hurried the clouds, scudding along like ships running to battle, past what slice of sky she could see through the drapes.

  She lay there, heavy-eyed, heavy-hearted. Gertie had been in earlier with her morning tea, and it sat growing cold on a table near that same window.

  Today was the day.

  The day that Sandpiper would raise her great mainsail and fly away home on that wind, carrying Rosalie away.

  Carrying Liam away.

  She got up and went to the window, resting her fingers on the sill and looking out toward the harbor. The tide had not yet turned, but whitecaps roiled in confusion against the wind, glittering in the sun as it emerged briefly from a window in the clouds. Ships and boats rocked and bounced on their moorings. The water was hard and gray and cold. The day darkened and a few spots of rain hit the glass pane that separated her from the outside. From the day.

  From that harbor.

  Annis closed her eyes. Her head hurt from lack of sleep. Her body was sore and fatigued from a restless night and there was a stiffness in her shoulder this morning that longed for a hot bath to ease it. Her mouth felt dry, her heart as bleak and empty as the day outside. She reached for the tea, cradling in her hands, sipping it with eyes closed as she tried to find something, anything, to take joy or gratitude in this, a day of parting.

  Gertie came in with breakfast; a single boiled egg and a dry piece of toast.

  “You all right, Missus?”

  “I’m not sure, my dear,” Annis replied honestly. She went to her dressing table and sat down. “I meet the man of my dreams and he does not have the will, it seems, to cut ties to his past and embrace a new adventure. To consider the promise he made to his late friend fulfilled, so that he can pursue his own life.” She took a deep and shuddering breath and let it out in a measured way. “Or maybe that’s all just an excuse. I don’t know anymore. But there’s no changing a person, is there, Gertie?”

  “Are you talking about that handsome Lieutenant Doherty, Missus?”

  The words lanced Annis’s heart. She took another sip of the tea, trying to draw comfort from the hot brew and failing. Gertie had been with her for years. They were as much friends as they were mistress and servant. “And who else would I be talking about, Gertie?”

  Gertie set the tray down, and a note of protective indignation touched her voice. “I’d say that if he’s foolish enough to choose a life back in Newburyport over you, he’s not worth having. You deserve better, Missus.”

  “As I said, you can’t change a person. Especially a man who’s been set in his ways for a long, long time.” She sighed bleakly, her heart hollow with defeat. “Perhaps if we’d met years ago, things would be different. Now ... it’s too late. Too late for change, too late for love.”

  Gertie’s eyes were tragic. “I was hoping he’d make you an offer. He seems so nice, he makes everyone laugh, and I was looking forward to us having a second home up in Newburyport. Seems awfully short notice, their leaving.”

  “Yes, it does. But it’s for the best.”

  Damn you, Kieran Merrick.

  “Still—”

  “For the best,” Annis repeated firmly.

  Taking her cue, Gertie nodded and left. Annis stood up and went again to the window, looking past the houses, the rooftops, the trees releasing their leaves to the wind with abandon, and to the harbor. She could see the water quite clearly, and that was a damned shame because there was Sandpiper. Sometime in the night, she’d been brought up to the pier, her tall, raked mast stamped against the gloomy sky. Figures swarmed her decks, too small to recognize, and Annis knew that if she were wise, she would not pick up the spyglass she kept on the windowsill and examine them more closely.

  She picked up the spyglass.

  Into the circular lens swam the little ship’s rail, her clean varnished decks, the base of her mast and the hard gray water beyond. There, Rosalie’s husband, hatless, his thick, glossy curls dancing in the wind and his sleeves rolled up to the elbows as he picked up a trunk—Rosalie’s, by the look of it—and carried it toward the hatch. Stephen in the bows, talking to Rosalie, who stood with her back against the wind and one hand clamped on her bonnet to keep it from flying off over the harbor.

  And Liam.

  Liam, peering up at the pendant that streamed so proudly from the mast, saying something to Kieran as his captain came back up from below, that great, beamy smil
e breaking out over his face at Kieran’s reply, the two tipping their heads back in laughter.

  Not a care in the world, had Liam Doherty.

  And not a lament for what could have been, either.

  Annis turned her back on the window and drained her tea. She had told Rosalie that she would be on the wharf to see her off and damn it all, she would be.

  Chapter 14

  She arrived at the waterfront dressed against the wind, her hair stuffed beneath a turban tied beneath her chin, boots of butter-soft leather on her feet, a velvet morning dress the color of copper trimmed with fur at throat, hem, and cuffs keeping her warm. It was colder down here near the water, and Annis drew her clothing tight, determined not to shiver.

  During the time it had taken her to select and dress in the clothing in which she wanted Liam Doherty to remember her—a process that was akin to Lord Nelson girding himself for Trafalgar, she imagined—someone had taken Sandpiper back out to her mooring, either to make room for the big three-masted ship waiting to unload from a journey to parts unknown, or because Kieran wanted sea-room with which to work in such a stiff breeze. The tide was beginning to turn now, the white-capped swells roiling in confusion against the wind and current that fought for their ownership, the sea at the high-water mark on the pilings of the pier.

  There was Rosalie, standing with her husband on that very pier, holding tightly to his arm as a gust of particularly strong wind came up and threatened to blow her away.

  “Aunt Annis! I thought you weren’t coming. The tide’s about to turn, and we’ll be off soon.”

  “What, and miss the chance to say goodbye? Never.” Annis opened her arms and her niece flew into them, the wind fluttering the lace of her hat against Annis’s cheek. Over her shoulder, Annis’s gaze met Kieran’s bleak one, and she pushed aside her momentary anger with the young man for cutting their visit so short. He could not be blamed for Liam’s choices. He could not be blamed for Liam’s loyalty to him. In fact, there was a damned good chance he was unaware that he and his brother were the source of Liam’s reluctance to detach from their lives and pursue his own.