Chapter Five
Cecily pushed through the cottage door, her breath coming in ragged bursts as though she had run the entire way from the village.
Her chest burned and her heart pounded wildly, refusing to settle.
She set the heavy basket of provisions on the kitchen table with more force than intended, the crockery inside rattling softly.
Across the small room, her father looked up from his chair beside the hearth. The firelight warmed the color in his cheeks, though the deep lines on the sides of his mouth spoke of the pain he still endured.
“There ye are,” he said, shifting carefully in his seat. “Give me a bit more of the herbal mixture the healer left.”
While she moved about the room, his gaze lingered on her, narrowing slightly as he studied her flushed face and uneven breathing. “Is something wrong?
Too many things were wrong. Her thoughts spun wildly, tangled with memories, questions, and the lingering warmth of Gabriel’s lips upon hers.
Feelings she had worked tirelessly to bury now surged to the surface, leaving her shaken and unsteady.
But she would not lay such troubles upon her father’s shoulders, not after he had watched her crumble the last time Gabriel had shattered her heart.
“It is only the worry,” she said, forcing steadiness into her voice as she reached for the small vial on the shelf. “I hurried through the village to finish the shopping and wanted to return quickly to see about ye.”
That part, at least, was true. Though the healer had assured them his injuries were not life-threatening, the thought of anything happening to her father filled Cecily with a deep fear.
After they shared a simple midday meal of thick stew and warm bread, her father retired to his bed, moving slowly but with determined stubbornness. Once he was settled, Cecily cleared the dishes and tidied the small cottage, grateful for the distraction of simple tasks.
Yet her mind would not be still. At last she stepped outside, drawing in a deep breath of the cool air. The sharp wind rushed against her overheated skin, carrying with it the familiar scent of salt and seaweed. It cooled her flushed cheeks but did nothing to quiet the turmoil inside her.
Her fingers lifted unconsciously to her lips, the sensation of his kiss lingering, and she shivered.
Why had he kissed her? The question tormented her. Was it meant as some sort of public claim? A warning to other men to keep their distance? And if so… why would he care?
She wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders and walked the short path that led to the rise overlooking the shoreline. The sea stretched wide and gray beneath the restless sky, waves rolling steadily toward the rocks.
And there it was.
The Wind Dancer remained anchored just offshore, her tall masts cutting dark shapes against the horizon.
Gabriel was there. So close she could imagine reaching out and touching him. And yet impossibly distant—just as he had been since the day he’d broken her heart.
In the months he had been gone, the first had been the hardest. She had spent those weeks battling the sharp ache of his rejection, forcing herself through each day until the pain dulled enough that she could breathe again.
When she had finally gathered the courage to face him upon his return, fate, cruel and unrelenting, had thrust them together once more.
She let out a long, weary sigh, her gaze fixed upon the ship rocking gently upon the tide. With sudden resolve, Cecily turned and walked briskly back toward the cottage. Inside, she reached for her cloak and fastened it tightly around her shoulders.
She would speak to him. The silence between them had festered too long, filled with unanswered questions and wounded pride. His sudden declaration of love made no sense beside the cold finality with which he had ended their betrothal. And Cecily would not endure another sleepless night wondering.
*
By the time Cecily reached the docks, her resolve had begun to fray around the edges.
The scent of tar, wet rope, and brine filled the air as fishermen mended nets and sailors moved about their tasks.
Gulls cried overhead, circling lazily above the water, and the steady slap of waves against the wooden pilings echoed along the harbor.
It was a familiar place, yet that day it felt strangely foreign, as though she stood outside her own life watching events unfold.
Her gaze drifted to the great ship anchored just offshore. Even from the dock it looked enormous, its dark hull rising proudly from the water and its tall masts cutting stark lines against the gray sky. Somewhere upon that vessel stood Gabriel.
Her stomach tightened. What was she going to say to him?
The certainty she’d felt while standing on the bluff had begun to waver.
The words she’d imagined speaking, sharp, clear questions demanding answers, now tangled hopelessly in her mind.
Would she accuse him? Demand an explanation?
Despite the sudden anxiety, she could not turn back now.
It took several minutes, and no small amount of pleading, before one of the sailors from the Wind Dancer finally agreed to row her out to the ship. The man scratched his beard and eyed her with open reluctance.
“Sailors are nae fond of women aboard,” he muttered.
“I will nae be long,” Cecily promised quickly.
In truth, women on board while the ship was docked was not considered such a grave matter. It was once the vessel set sail that sailors grew superstitious and prickly about such things.
At last, with a long-suffering sigh, the man relented.
Soon she found herself seated in the small boat as it cut through the gray water toward the towering vessel.
The closer they drew, the larger the Wind Dancer seemed to grow, until its hull loomed above her like the side of a cliff.
No matter how many times she saw it, the ship never ceased to astonish her.
When they reached the side, one of the sailors above tossed down the rope ladder.
Cecily grasped the rough hemp and began the climb.
The ladder swayed beneath her weight, and the salt wind whipped her skirts against her legs.
By the time she reached the top, her heart was beating wildly, but not from the climb.
Stepping onto the deck, she paused for a moment to steady herself.
Up there the wind was stronger, colder, tugging at her cloak and pulling loose strands of her hair across her face.
Despite the restless movement of the sea below, the great ship barely shifted beneath her feet, its sheer size absorbing the rise and fall of the tide.
A sailor gestured toward the quarterdeck, and Cecily nodded her thanks and walked there, clasping her hands tightly together as she waited for someone to fetch Gabriel.
Her thoughts spun faster with every passing moment. What if he refused to answer her? What if he simply repeated the same vague excuses he’d offered before? Or worse… what if she looked at him and forgot every question she’d come to ask? Her stomach twisted.
Footsteps sounded behind her, and she turned.
Gabriel emerged from the companionway, and the sight of him stole the breath from her lungs.
He wore a white tunic left loosely fastened, open at the throat and revealing the strong line of his chest. His dark hair hung damp to his shoulders, thick waves stirred by the wind as they brushed across his face.
His brows, dark and sharply defined, were drawn together in a frown above those piercing gray eyes she knew far too well.
He looked powerful. Commanding. And painfully familiar.
His gaze settled on her at once, concern flashing across his features as he strode toward her. “Is something wrong?” he asked, his voice low and urgent. “Yer father?”
Cecily shook her head quickly.
The distance between them closed far too fast, and suddenly he stood only a few steps away.
It took every ounce of her strength not to reach for him, not to lean into the warmth she knew she would find there.
Instead she forced her hands to remain clasped before her and lifted her chin, hoping the firmness of her expression masked the chaos inside her chest.
“Father is better.” Thankfully her voice sounded steadier than she felt. “I came because I must speak with ye.”
The wind tugged at Cecily’s cloak as she stood on the quarterdeck, the wide expanse of gray sea stretching behind Gabriel like an endless horizon. The deck beneath her boots creaked softly, the great ship barely shifting with the restless tide below.
For a moment neither of them spoke. Gabriel had stopped a few paces away, his broad shoulders squared, his expression guarded though concern lingered in his storm-gray eyes.
“Is something wrong?” he asked again.
Silence stretched between them again, thick and uncomfortable. Cecily clasped her hands together, pressing her fingers so tightly they ached.
She had come all this way. She would not lose her courage now. “I wish to speak with ye and clear matters.”
Gabriel’s brows knit slightly, though he gave a small nod. “Then speak.”
The wind carried the scent of salt and wet wood around them as Cecily lifted her chin. “Why did ye end our betrothal? Ye never fully explained. I must know.”
Gabriel stilled. For the briefest moment, something flickered across his face, something that looked dangerously close to pain, but it vanished almost at once.
“I told ye before,” he said evenly. “My life is at sea. It would nae be fair to expect ye to wait while I spend months, sometimes years, away.”
Cecily’s temper flared. “That was an excuse,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion she had held back for far too long. “Ye gave me no choice. Ye simply decided for both of us and expected me to accept it.”
She stepped closer, the wind whipping strands of her dark hair across her face. “And now,” she continued, “ye kiss me before half the village and tell me ye love me.” Her eyes burned into his.
“I deserve the truth, Gabriel.”