Page 98 of A Castaway in Cornwall
“Good point.”
For a moment he hesitated, then he turned and climbed out of the hold without another word.
A few minutes later, Alexander descended, pulling off his hat and wig. “Mr. Kent said you wished me to join you?”
The words were uttered innocently, yet Laura’s face heated at the implication.
She hurried to clarify. “He says you should stay out of sight as much as possible.”
He studied her closely. “You don’t mind the sea? Feel sick?”
“Not at all. I find it exhilarating.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
He crossed the cabin, lifting both hands toward her. “May I?”
May I what?she wondered but could form no words because his hands touched her face. She made do with a vague nod.
She held her breath as he gently unhooked the spectacles from her ears and lifted them from her nose. He set them aside and returned his gaze to her. She sank into his sea-storm eyes.
Then his fingertips slowly tugged the mobcap off her head. He looked at her by the light of the flickering candle. “Much better. Your hair is far too pretty to cover.”
He set the cap aside, his eyes lingering on hers. “Thank you, Miss Callaway. Because of you, I have hope for the first time in a long time.”
Her heart thumped at his warm words. He reached up, stroking a tendril of hair that had come free when he’d pulled the cap away.
Then Alexander cupped her jawline. He dipped his head,lowering his face toward hers, and his sweet peppermint breath and shaving soap were a pleasant haven amid the dank cabin.
She breathed in the smell of him, feeling flushed. He leaned nearer yet, and his lips touched hers, softly, tentatively. She stood on tiptoes and pressed her mouth more tightly to his. In a second, his arms were around her, holding her in an embrace that stole her breath.
He abruptly pulled away, grasped her shoulders, and took a half step back. “Forgive me, I got carried away.”
“Me too.”
He cleared his throat and retreated a few more steps. “Get some sleep, Laura. I’ll watch over you.”
Laura drew a steadying breath, then said, “Perhaps you should sleep too. Before one of the crewmen wants his bunk.”
He lay atop one of the low bunks, fully dressed, boots on the floor.
Laura unlaced her half boots, removed them, and crawled into Treeve’s bunk, pulling the bedclothes up to her chin.
She would just rest for a few minutes, she told herself. But the berth was like a cradle, rocking her gently side to side. From above came the sounds of occasional footsteps on deck, men on the watch, which assured her they were in good hands. The rigging softly strumming against the wooden masts soon lulled her to sleep.
The ship that will not obey the helm must obey the rocks.
—CORNISHPROVERB
Chapter 18
When Laura awoke, sunlight shone through the cracks of the cabin door.
Alexander sat near the stove, watching her. He smiled. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did, though I did not intend to sleep all night. Poor Treeve.”
“Oh, he and the others slept in shifts, as did I.”
