Page 28 of To Treasure an Heiress
Apparently deciding against plunging into the surf after him, Sheridan spun back to her, only wobbling a bit. “I may have known he was single-minded and determined, but I didn’t know he wasviolent. AndI, as you just pointed out, didn’t abduct anyone and hold them hostage until silver was exchanged.”
“Because you didn’thaveto. You were the one digging up the silver. And what have you been arguing ever since? Thatyouought to be the one to take possession of it. That the blasted BritishMuseumoughtn’t to be trusted because there’s a Scofield on the board, but thatyoucan be. You’re nothing but a selfish, greedy—”
“Andyouare nothing but a ... a weak-willed female ready to simper at any handsome face that comes with a yacht and a promise to take you away.”
“How dare you.” Her hands curled into fists, and all thoughts of exploring the island blew away with the wind that was finally making earnest progress at clearing the fog. She wasn’t going to spend a single second that she didn’t have to with this man. And to prove it, she stomped southward along the shore.
“Where are you going? Off to rendezvous with your prince?”
“Imbecile.” She pivoted back to face him but didn’t stop moving, even if it required walking backward. “I’m going home. And I ought to leave you here to insult someone else’s common sense and integrity.”
“So you can find some other criminal to flirt with, you mean.” He was stomping after her. And he looked awful. His clothes were stained with his blood, and though he was digging even now in his pocket for a handkerchief, it couldn’t possibly clean him up with anysuccess. The best it could do was catch the red still dripping from his swollen nose. Bruises were forming already under both his eyes.
He needed ice or a compress or something. She should probably take him to St. Agnes and its little pharmacy.
But just now, she didn’t much care if he had a broken nose and two black eyes. She frankly didn’t care if he had to swim back to Tresco—though he could simply toss some money at someone and have them ferry him anywhere he wanted. She didn’t carewhathe did.
She was going home, where at least she could escape his company in the privacy of her own room.
8
There was something comforting about sitting in the kitchen more familiar to her than any other room on Tresco, shelling peas. The snap of a pod. The plunk of plump spheres into a wooden bowl worn smooth by the decades. The scent of crisp green life stinging her nose. The slant of late-morning sun through the window, brightening the world.
Senara had done this very thing in this very spot more times in her youth than she could count. And any time she’d visited during the summer months when fresh peas were to be found. It was rhythmic. Soothing. Solace.
Peas made excellent company.
As did Mam, who hummed an old ballad as she mixed up the batter for a cake she’d serve with tea in a few hours. Last night, Senara had joined them at the pub, laughing and listening to Old Man Gibson tell stories as everyone enjoyed the ginger fairings he’d brought over from Polmers’ on St. Mary’s. It had been an evening to remind her of who she was, of where she came from. To forget for a few hourswhyshe was home.
A soprano voice joined in with the hum, coming from the doorway.Senara looked up as Mrs. Tremayne entered the kitchen, her voice a bit more tremulous than it used to be, but no less sweet.
“With a good sword and a trusty shield
A faithful heart and true
King James’s men shall understand
What Cornish men can do
And have they fixed the where and when?
And shall Trelawny die?
Here’s twenty thousand Cornish men
Will know the reason why.”
The Tremayne matriarch was clearly as comfortable in this kitchen as Senara was, despite belonging more properly in the other areas of the house. Mamm-wynn snatched a few peas from the half-filled bowl with a wink, slipped them into her mouth, and rested her gnarled hand on Senara’s shoulder.
She’d been too many years without her own grandmother. But she’d always had Beth and Oliver’s to claim when she needed one.
Mamm-wynn gave her shoulder a soft squeeze. “I do love it when you come for a visit, Senara. How are the girls?”
Her throat went tight, and she had to clear it before she could answer. “Quite well when I left them.”
Not even teary-eyed at her departure, because they’d not been told she was leaving. It had all happened too fast. When she’d tucked them into their beds with their favorite story, all had been well. By the next morning, she was on a train bound south, not given the chance to tell them good-bye.
“You’ve always had such a way with little ones, dearover. We always knew Morgan and Ollie and Beth were in good hands when you were about.” She chuckled and looked toward the main part of the house. “Sometimes I think Beth could still use you. If you’re here long enough, perhaps you’ll do her some good. My rosefinch still tends to fly away first and consider consequences later.”
