Page 22 of Cursed

Chapter Eight

Edeena sat stiffly next to Vince the next morning, doing everything she could not to wring her hands in her lap. Why shouldn’t she enjoy her last week on the island? Despite his very credible attempt at flirting, she knew in her heart that Vince was merely feeling sorry for her. She’d even entertained horrified suspicions of Cousin Prudence putting him up to be her chaperone, but she didn’t care. She did want to get out, to be squired around by an attractive man, to enjoy herself for once. It wasn’t going to last long—it certainly wouldn’t matter in the long run—but she’d already made the crucial decisions and set up everything perfectly for her sisters, her family. She could enjoy this.

The top ten most likely candidates in the files her father had sent her were not bad options, she told herself for the millionth time. All of them had money, some of them even worked for it. They would likely be reasonably interesting and charming, right? Even if they weren’t, she’d be fine.

They wouldn’t be Vince, of course, but Vince wasn’t noble. She needed to stop thinking about him altogether.

Besides, no man should look the way he did, and at the same time, look at her the way he did, with those dark, flashing eyes and the curious intensity of his expression, as if he were a spring about to be released. He was too alive, if there was such a thing. Too rough, too raw. Nothing at all like the men Edeena had met in Garronia.

Men who would be waiting for her when she returned in a few short days, she reminded herself again. But until she was officially summoned, she didn’t have to worry about that, either.

“Do I want to know what you’re thinking?” Vince asked, his voice almost gentle, despite the heat she could feel pouring off him. The moment he’d arrived that morning to collect her, she’d sensed that heat. Sensed it and matched it with her own, a curious thrill of excitement curling through her. So this is what flirting feels like. She wondered if she’d ever start breathing normally again.

“Where are we going?” she redirected him. “You still haven’t said. Caroline is completely beside herself that you’re exploring someplace with me she hasn’t visited herself.”

“Well, it’s not on the island proper, and I’m pretty sure you haven’t given approval for a boat excursion,” he said. “So yeah, I doubt she’s seen it.”

That did catch her attention. “Not on the island proper?” They’d taken the main island road in the opposite direction of the Cypress Resort, and were now, true enough, angling down toward the beach and the public marina. “You’re taking me on a cruise?”

He barked a laugh. “Not exactly. It’s a short trip, actually, but a place my mother reminded me of. You can get there by ferry.”

“Ferry.” She fell silent as Vince pulled into a parking spot at the marina. She eyed the lone speedboat in the nearest slip. “That doesn’t look like a ferry.”

“I don’t like to wait.” They boarded the boat a few minutes later, Edeena gratefully accepting the life jacket. She could swim, and it was high summer, but that didn’t mean she had any burning desire to try out the crisply-rolling South Carolina waves anytime soon.

Under Vince’s capable hands, the boat eased out into the ocean and began jetting over open water, and Edeena felt another rope of tension fall off her shoulders. She’d forgotten how much she loved the water, any water, but especially the wide open possibility of the ocean. The Aegean Sea that fronted Garronia’s capital city was certainly more blue than the Atlantic, but she reveled in the saltwater spray, the stiff breeze, and the bright sun overhead. Had Vince known, somehow, that she’d missed the water so much? Surely not.

Still, he seemed equally happy to be leaving Sea Haven behind them, and within only a few minutes, a new land mass emerged on the horizon, a cheerful island of lush trees and swaying grasses. “Are those wild horses, there on the beach?” she asked, her eyes going wide. Vince cut the boat’s power and they approached the no-wake zone.

“Probably,” he said. “Like the land opposite Heron’s Point, most of Pearl Island is a nature preserve. There are only a few businesses—bed and breakfasts, some artists’ shops, and a small museum—and the island caters to an exclusive clientele.”

She frowned. “There seemed to be plenty of money on Sea Haven.”

“Not so much money here as isolation,” Vince said. “People come here to get away—truly get away—without having to travel too far.”

“Like a retreat vacation? Yoga and meditation?”

Vince laughed. “Give it another five years and some favorable zoning changes, and probably. Right now, it’s a little more rustic than that. But pretty.”

“I like pretty,” Edeena murmured, and in truth, she was already half in love with the quiet little island before even stepping foot on it. In another few minutes, Vince had docked the boat and helped her out to the tidy little pier, and she waited while he ducked into the marina’s small white-washed office to pay for his water parking. The sun seemed warmer here, the breeze softer, and she looked around the cute area surrounding the pier with interest. There were a few old, large, Victorian-style houses lining the long block and curling around the road that she could see, and even a bit of a main street, with cute shops sprouting between what had to be more residences.

Vince joined her, holding out his hand. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for her to take it, to feel that zing of excitement when his fingers squeezed gently.

“I thought you said this place didn’t generate traffic. How do those stores stay in business?”

He looked where she was pointing. “During summer season, there’s a tourist crowd, especially for the folks staying here longer than a few days. Most of the shop owners live in the house next door, and a lot of them are artists, writers, that sort of thing. They work right in their studios, so if someone happens to want to buy something, well, they can come on in.”

“That’s . . . lovely,” Edeena sighed, and Vince was right. They passed two painters and a potter, the potter working in the back of the shop, while the painters’ storefronts boasted small placards featuring a telephone number and a cheerful request for anyone interested in something in the shop’s window to call. A cute coffee shop across the street with what looked like a large tree-shrouded back lot doubled as an internet café and reading room, and the entire place seemed to work further on Edeena’s frazzled nerves, lulling her with the cadence of the quietly lapping ocean.

They stopped at the shop and ordered two lattes to go, then Vince pulled her outside again, setting off along the main road as it curved up the small rise. There was no longer a sidewalk here, but with virtually no traffic and wide, sandy berms to each side, it was no hardship taking the long, meandering walk.

“Is that another B&B?” She shielded her gaze from the sun. As the dunes gave way to slightly higher grasslands, she could see a large rambling house. It was nearly as large as Heron’s Point, weathered by endless sun, salt, and wind, but majestic as it rose up around the piled dunes. It was maybe a full mile inland, the only house she could see for at least a half mile in either direction. “I’m surprised it’s not on stilts.”

“Owners of that place were legendary for their stubbornness, convinced that no storm would take a house so big. They’ve been proven right so far. And it is a B&B technically, though no one has stayed there for years. It’s more known for its private museum on island life. The current owners are in their eighties. Kind of benignly scattered, in the way some old people can get.”

The words were judgmental, but Vince spoke them easily, and Edeena eyed him. “If they’re ‘scattered,’ as you say, then how can they live all the way out here on their own? That seems dangerous.”

“Grandson is staying with them now, fixing the place up—not to sell, though he’d get a hell of a price for it. He’s some kind of professor, researcher, something like that. Keeps to himself, but while he’s at it, he looks after his grandparents and their friends.”

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