Page 99 of The Nature of a Lady
And how true those words were. Love reallywaslike a bird. You didn’t know where it might settle, or when. You couldn’t tame it, couldn’t force it. Couldn’t often predict it. You could call and call for it and never would it flutter down. Then, at the most unexpected time, in the most unexpected place, there it was.
Here it was.
By the time she finished, Mamm-wynn had fallen asleep again. For a moment she felt guilty that she’d monopolized her entire waking and hadn’t told the lady’s grandchildren that she’d spoken, responded, seemed like her usual self, just tired. But she’d go and let them know now.
She scooped Darling into her arms and turned, jumping a bit when she saw Oliver leaning into the doorframe, Bram a step behind him. She expected her brother to give her his usual sigh over the opera or joke about her torturing an ill old woman with it. But he didn’t. He didn’t say anything.
Neither did Oliver. He just tracked her approach with that watchful look of his, and when she paused in front of him, he looked deep into her eyes. No doubt seeing, because he was Oliver, all the thoughts that had settled. All the peace that had taken the place of the questions inside her. The fresh yearning to learn more about the beyond, as well as the here and now.
And he smiled.
Mabena turned her face toward the rising sun and let it warm her. She breathed in the scents of salt and sand and sea. Felt the smooth wood of the oars in her hands, the firm seat beneath her. The pull of the water against the paddle. Birds called out to each other, chattering about where the fish were swimming and what predators circled above, no doubt. From the distance came the fading shout of a fisherman.
Home.
“We could just stay right here for the next few hours. I could look at you longer.”
Casek’s soft voice made her smile and face him again. She’d slipped from the house with the first fingers of dawn on the horizon to meet him on the beach, so they’d have time for a nice row before their days began. She could begin every day like this and be happy.
Well. She’d be even happier after they married. When first she’d wake beside him, andthenthey’d head for the gig, hands entwined. It was a dream that had rooted itself in the bedrock of her soul over the last week. “Somehow, my love, I don’t think the world would stop if we did. And I don’t think either of us would be happy to let it pass us by—not today.”
But Casek didn’t dip in his oars again yet. Just kept on looking at her. “I don’t care a whit about pirate treasure or princes or maps or silver.”
“No.” He didn’t. That had never been what drove this man forward, brought his fists up, or inspired his world. He wasn’t the sort to ever leave her for the pursuit of more. How had she not seen that years ago? That all his volume and bluster were just the waves crashing against the sturdy rock of him. He was the steady one. It was just that, in the Scillies, steady meant storms and waves and winds as much as sunshine and blue skies. “But you care about the lads who have been poking about looking for it.”
He sighed and looked to the shore, hands gripping the oars again now. “We lose so many of them. To the mainland. To the sea. To hard living. We can’t lose more to this, Benna.”
“Which is why we’re going to put a stop to it. Today.” They dipped their oars in unison, their stretching forms mirror images, since they faced each other.
His face was still clouded though. “I don’t know that wecanstop it entirely. Not if these are just hirelings here now. More will be sent. More lads lured into treasure hunting. More skulls knocked in when they don’t deliver what the gentlemen want.”
“You think he can’t be trusted? Lord Sheridan?”
Casek screwed up his face in dismissal. “Not him. The ones from London, the family of Beth’s friend. Them I don’t trust. Not if theymean to double-cross Sheridan. He may have his head in the clouds of legend, but I think he’s harmless enough. This Scofield bloke though...”
“Or whoever he hired. And Lorne.” They’d asked around about him last night, while the ladies and gents were having their fancy dinner at Oliver and Beth’s house. Settled themselves down at the pub with Tas-gwyn Gibson, who was more than happy to lend a hand. Apparently, when Sheridan had shared what he knew of Lorne yesterday, her grandfather had been convinced he was the one who’d knocked him upside the head on Monday. He had a vague recollection of seeing a little dinghy that he recognized as one the Morrises had rented out for the summer, and of hearing a voice behind him curse in a rough London accent.
They still couldn’t be certain if it had been Lorne or the Scofields’ lackey that had knockedherhead in Piper’s Hole, but they’d learned more than Mabena had hoped. More than she wished were true. A few islanders had ferried Lorne about here and there until he’d rented that boat for himself, all of them reporting that he seemed keen on learning every facet and rock and crevice on all the islands.
Not that the islanders had told Lorne much—they all had a healthy distrust of incomers whose interests went beyond mere curiosity—but they couldn’t exactly stop him from exploring. And they’d been seeing him for weeks, here and there. No one was certain where he was staying. Some thought St. Mary’s, others Bryher, others still reported seeing him here on Tresco late enough at night that he couldn’t have meant to leave.
Bad news, all of it.
But they’d come up with their own plan to keep Casek’s students safe from Lorne’s influence. One that wouldn’t interfere with the scheduled search of King Charles’s castle later today.
“There they are.” She nodded to the beach by the Hills’ little house, where Perry and the Grimsby boys were even now stealing down the sand toward Mr. Hill’s old rowboat. Just as Casek had overheard them planning to do yesterday—to sneak over to Piper’s Hole this morning.
Casek had said he’d debated trying to talk them out of it, letting them know he’d heard their plans. Perhaps even warning them away from Lorne directly. But it wasn’t so long ago that Casek had been a boy just like them. He’d known that forbidding a thing would only make it more alluring. So instead they’d decided to put themselves here, now.
Enough morning mist hovered over the water to help their voices carry. “That’s what Beth said.” She recited her agreed-upon line to get them started, turning her head a little to send the words toward the lads, though careful to keep her eyes trained solely on Casek, who didn’t so much as glance toward the shoreline.
“I know she’s the one who found what silver’s been found,” he added. “But Samson? Makes no sense.”
As they’d hoped, the boys had ducked down beneath the hull of the boat. But they’d be listening. “She says it’s where she found the treasure map.” It wasn’t. She’d yet to saywhereshe’d found what she did—an omission that hadn’t slipped by Mabena. “She probably has the rest of the crate in whatever cottage she’d been staying in.”
“Maybe. But do you really think we can convince her to send it to the Scofields?”
“We have to. If we don’t, she could be in danger.” They’d debated this tack, too, and decided it was the most likely to convince the boys. “We need to find it, get it to them. If she’s too stubborn to save her own skin, we’ll save it for her.” They’d probably not believe that Mabena meant to undermine her cousin for the sake of silver. But for her own good? Anyone would believe that.
