Chapter Twenty-Eight
Samantha sat on the front veranda, stirring her lukewarm tea. Dusk’s shadows stretched out across the grounds, bathing everything in muted purple tones. She’d stood on the steps for a long while after Christian borrowed a horse and tore off to town.
Some of his men had come by a long while after to search the property in case the pirate had revenge on his mind.
The housekeeper had finally come out and shooed her inside, forcing her to bathe and eat a light supper.
She stretched her legs, free from the confines of arduous skirts.
At least no one had tried to stop her from dressing in her breeches and blouse.
She’d twisted her hair into a long braid and she unwound it, letting the damp waves fall to her waist. Her uncle’s carriage rumbled into the drive and she stood. An extra horse followed, tied with a long lead. The one Christian had borrowed.
Her gaze flew to the forest between their properties. Had he returned home?
“Do I want to know why you’re dressed like that?” Uncle Henry climbed the stairs.
“Ships aren’t the only places one can wear breeches.”
He sighed and crossed to the door.
“Any news?”
“Not a single sighting. It’s as if he’s disappeared.”
“What happened?”
“The rope failed. And in the commotion afterward, a group of men disguised as onlookers in the front of the crowd swarmed the platform. By the time they were dispersed, Thorne was gone.”
She shivered as an owl hooted in the distance. “Where do you think he went?”
Her uncle shrugged and opened the door. She frowned at his nonchalance.
Something was off.
“Did you have something to do with it?”
He paused and swiveled to face her. “Whatever would make you think that?”
“I know you have a history with him.”
His eyes darkened. “Our history is a terrible one.”
“So you had nothing to do with it?”
His hand tightened on the doorknob and her chest tightened.
“Why?” The word came out as a strangled whisper.
Uncle Henry stared out into the darkness. “I owed him.”
Her mouth went dry. “Why help him? Why not let him hang?”
“It’s good to have a powerful man in my debt.”
She took a step back. “He killed my parents.”
He pressed his eyes shut and when he reopened them, they were filled with anguish. “It’s complicated. The score between myself and Thorne is settled, and that’s what matters now. We won’t have to worry about him or his men coming after us again.”
A thread of unease crept through her. Everything her uncle did had a calculated reason behind it. She should know better than anyone else.
She set a hand on the door. “I think, in light of all that’s happened, I deserve to know.”
He stared at the door for a long moment. His shoulders slumped.
“Uncle?”
His hand curled into a fist. “Because Mrs. Thompson died on my watch.”
Samantha reeled back a step and took a strangled breath as Thorne’s words echoed through her head. “No one’s innocent. Least of all her family.”
“You were the pirates who kidnapped her?” Her voice came out small.
“Heavens no, girl. Your father and I were part of the rescue operation. It went terribly wrong and she didn’t make it.”
A heaviness settled over her heart. And then, understanding hit her. “He blamed you for her death.”
He turned with damp eyes. “It is my greatest regret. I’ve spent the last twenty-four years wondering what I could have done differently.
Wondering if I could have changed the outcome.
” Tears sprung to her eyes as he lifted his arms and pulled her into a hug.
“The world can be a terrible and cruel place, dear. My greatest wish was to keep the worst of it from you, to spare you from experiencing it firsthand. It seems I have failed.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” She sniffed and smiled up at him. “Besides, I’m more resilient than you think, uncle.”
“Indeed you are.” He gave her a squeeze. “Also, I spoke with Lieutenant Thompson. We won’t have to worry about the navy ever knowing my identity.”
Wiping at her eyes, she stepped back. There was one more thing she needed to know.
“Why did you send the lieutenant after me?”
The lines of worry around his eyes eased. “Why do you think?” Though his face remained solemn, he gave her a halfhearted wink and strode into the house.
She stayed outside until the mosquitos buzzed in her ear. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess. Christian and his almost-kiss. Her uncle and Thorne. Her parents.
The dull throb lingering behind her brows pulsed. So much had happened today. Was it too much to hope that a good sleep would fix everything?
Inside, the halls were dark. The entire household had retired early. No, a light came from the crack in the study door. Though she wanted to press her uncle further, she wasn’t sure her head could handle any more surprises.
So, Samantha climbed the stairs and locked the door behind her.
Anna had left her nightgown draped on her bed.
She began to unbutton her blouse but paused when her curtains flapped in the breeze.
Her heart gave a little lurch before she remembered leaving the balcony doors open earlier when she changed.
Walking over, she began to close them. Before they clicked shut, she glanced across the field toward Christian’s estate. A light twinkled on in a distant window and she caught her breath. He was home.
She pushed the doors open and walked out into the night. Leaning against the warm stone of the banister, she closed her eyes and sighed. Every time she closed them, she saw him.
Tomorrow, he’d sail away. Who knew when, if, their paths would cross again. She’d seen his look of resignation at the dock when she told him not to call her Red anymore.
Pain radiated through her chest, the sharp ache making her gasp. She pressed a hand there.
Steer your own course.
How? Living a life on shore was akin to asking a fish to survive on dry land. Easy for him to say. He would get on a ship and sail out of her life tomorrow. Would continue living his life. While she languished.
The blasted man had nearly kissed her. Her lips fairly burned at the memory of his breath on them.
A walking contradiction. That was what he was. Hot one minute, cold the next. Her heart beat a painful rhythm. If his first officer hadn’t come, what would have happened? Would Christian have cut it off at a kiss and said goodbye? Or . . .
Samantha opened her eyes. Stared at the flickering light through the trees. She could still find out. A tingle ran though her limbs. It would be so easy to walk over, knock on his door. With a shaky laugh, she turned and stepped inside.
Nonsense.
She might never see him again. The thought sent a new ache spearing through her chest and she pressed her eyes shut. New Orleans might as well be on the other side of the world.
One more night. What she wouldn’t do for the chance to sear one last memory in her mind of him. Of them. Her breath caught in her throat and she spun back to the railing.
Reckless.
She lifted a leg over it.
Reckless.
Eased her body along the wall.
Dropping to the ground, she hurried through the garden and slipped through a side gate. This time, she cut through the field, her boots pressing into damp earth, grass swishing around her knees. Darkness cloaked her and she blinked up at the black clouds covering the moon.
Lightning flashed far away and the soft rumble of thunder rolled over her. At the edge of the field, she paused at the road. His drive lay around the corner. A wild thrill raced through her as she jogged toward it.
She passed beneath a towering oak, heart hammering against her ribs. As she approached the house, instead of the urge to flee like last time, an invisible thread tugged her forward. At the bottom of the steps, she swallowed.
This was it. Her last chance to turn back. She took a step, then faltered. What if he turned her away? The door suddenly seemed impossibly far. Would a servant open it instead? Servants talked.
She groaned. Reckless indeed. She couldn’t barge through his front door. Not without leaving her reputation in tatters. With a sigh, she retreated to the garden and sank onto a bench. Another roll of thunder. Closer this time. If she left now, she could beat the storm home.
She lifted her gaze to the lone window awash in light. His room. An ancient oak tree stretched its limbs toward the house, as if trying to push the walls down by brute strength. A shadow passed across the window and her heart caught.
If she climbed into the tree, would she be able to see him? One last look. Climb up. Climb down. Easy.
Pushing her hair over one shoulder, she approached the tree. One branch hung low and she swung up onto it. She had to reach high to get ahold of the next and her muscles screamed in protest as she slowly lifted herself up. One more branch and she sat level to his window.
Long clumps of Spanish moss and thick foliage blocked her view.
“Drat.”
The thick limb stretched toward the wall and she edged forward.
This deep in the tree, a whole colony of little ferns had sprouted along the length of the branch.
Her fingers struggled to get a good grip on the damp wood.
Still, nothing this mangy old tree threw her way would keep her from getting her glimpse of him.
She shoved a bundle of moss half her size out of the way and finally got a clear view.
Of the corner of his room.
Muttering a curse, she moved farther out on the branch. It sagged beneath her weight and she froze. If she went much farther, it may not support her. But she didn’t have to.
Christian strode into view.
In nothing but a towel.
Her pulse slammed in her ears as he shook water from his hair before reaching up to slick it back. Muscles rippled across the flat planes of his stomach and she gulped. Any moment, he would drop the towel to get dressed for bed.
What had she been thinking?
Heat spiraled up and across her cheeks. Watching him felt wrong.
He moved to the bed and his hand went to the linen.