Page 31 of The Smuggler & the Society Bride

The drawings were well worth her enthusiasm. Though in the blending and choice of colours, it was obvious the girl was still experimenting, equally obvious was the fact that she displayed a natural aptitude for capturing the hues of light and shadow that rivalled her ability to render line and form.

After showing him the last sketches depicting Eva’s cove and the moor with its granite tor beyond the smuggler’s hut, she asked, ‘Do you truly think we could find someone to handle them?’

‘I believe so,’ Gabe answered, absurdly pleased that ‘we’ had returned to her vocabulary. ‘I shall have to consult with some dealers in London. I expect the largest number of interested purchasers would be found there.’

Her lovely forehead creased in a frown, Miss Foxe looked away, seeming suddenly uneasy again. Finally, with a sharp sigh, she turned to him. ‘This is hardly a topic of genteel conversation, but finding another source of income for Eva’s family has become more important than ever.’ Though her cheeks reddened, she continued gamely, ‘As you may already know, her sister Laurie has accepted an arrangement with John Kessel. I cannot help but worry he will not treat her well. And he dislikes Eva.’

A shock went through Gabe. ‘Are you sure about this?’

She nodded. ‘Laurie confirmed it yesterday. When I expressed my concern, she told me not to worry—and in any event, that there was nothing I could do. I’m afraid she’s right, as long as she is under Mr Kessel’s power. But if the family had some other source of income…’

He hesitated, wondering how much to tell her. Finally deciding she deserved the truth, he said bluntly, ‘I fear your concern is justified. John Kessel is dangerous. The man Laurie was struggling with at the kiddleywink—the one you rescued her from—was found yesterday floating face-down in the bay. The talk was that, stupid with drink, he’d fallen in during the night and drowned. But if John Kessel has made Laurie his woman… He’s quite capable of disposing of someone who tried to trifle with a female he fancied.’

She paled a little. ‘Then the matter is even more serious than I feared.’

‘Probably not at this moment,’ he said reassuringly as his mind raced ahead, trying to figure out how he might safely pry Laurie Steavens free of John Kessel’s clutches. ‘’Tis early days, so Kessel will likely still be too pleased with her to treat her roughly—and Laurie is too shrewd to do anything that might anger him. But you are right; her sister’s situation does add urgency to the quest to discover whether Eva’s art work is saleable.’

It also solidified a decision already half-made. In the short period before he must take the Gull to sea again, he’d journey to the metropolis. In fact, he’d set out as soon as he reviewed with his first mate the final details necessary to have the Gull fully prepared.

Maybe while in London, he could look up some of his Army friends, make some inquiries toward discovering what he might do upon quitting Cornwall. Activities that might allow him, at some point in the future, to legitimately support a wife.

‘I would be grateful for anything you could do to help secure Laurie’s safety. And now, I suppose I ought to return home,’ she concluded with a reluctance that seemed as sincere as his own, easing his fears that he might have inadvertently frightened her away before he’d been able to determine how long he wanted to keep her close.

Certainly he wished to delay her now. He was casting about for some plausible excuse to achieve that when a brilliant idea occurred.

‘Eva showed you her favourite place on the coast yesterday. May I show you mine? ’Tis on the way back to Foxeden, so will not delay your return overmuch, and it’s at least as lovely as Eva’s. I think the location would make a wonderful subject for her landscapes. I know I would purchase a likeness to remember it by.’

The shadow of a frown crossed her face. ‘When you leave here, you mean?’

‘Yes,’ he replied, pleased to have this opening to assure her that he didn’t plan to remain a free-trader forever. ‘My tenure as skipper of the Gull was intended from the first to be limited, until the permanent skipper recovered from injuries suffered during a previous voyage. And you?’ he added, thinking he might as well try to discover more about her plans as well. ‘Do you expect to make a long stay with your aunt?’

‘I’m not sure,’ she said evasively. ‘I really should be getting back.’

Very well, no more probing, he thought, alarmed by the abrupt chill in her manner. Determined to lure her back before she could retreat too far, he said, ‘Why don’t I ride with you and point out the spot on your way home? ’Tis quite close to the main road, which isn’t surprising, since it features a very early Celtic church.’

She’d seemed on the verge of a refusal, but at the mention of the ancient dwelling—and perhaps its purpose, for one would have to be a very great rogue indeed to try to seduce a maiden in a house of God—she hesitated.

‘It won’t take long,’ he coaxed. ‘The church, though no longer in use, is surmounted by an ancient Celtic cross. The inlet beneath it, concealed behind a tumble of boulders, leads through a narrow passage to a small beach overhung by lichen-covered crags. Up on the cliff, I feel as though I can see to Ireland and the New World beyond, while when one is seated on the beach, one can almost breathe in the peace and tranquility.’

She gave him that sceptical look he so loved that said she suspected his eloquent description might be a trifle overstated. ‘Very well…if it is indeed on the way.’

An upsurge of delight washed through him. ‘Excellent. Give me just enough time to obtain my horse from the inn and we’ll be off.’

She agreed, and after chatting with Mrs Kessel over a mug of cider while he fetched his mount, they rode out in the direction of Foxeden. Some half an hour later, the road curved around some granite boulders, beyond which a track led out to the rocky promontory.

‘We go the rest of the way on foot,’ he announced, pulling up his mount. He tried to keep his touch as impartial as a groom’s as he helped her down, despite the tingling surge of warmth in the fingers that held her.

‘I discovered these cliffs soon after arriving,’ he continued, forcing his mind back to the view he’d brought her to witness. ‘As the rocks face north, toward Ireland, rather than west to the ocean, I called them my Irish Cliffs. But now, you must see the church.’

After tethering the horses to a bit of gorse, he led her to the low, round-roofed structure perched near the cliff edge. Built of irregular, un-mortared stone that looked as if it might come apart any moment, it had been constructed with enough care to have withstood the gusts and storms off the sea for some seven hundred years.

‘What a marvellous vista!’ she cried, gazing out over the magnificent expanse of sea. ‘You are right; with the church, the cliffs, the view, it is a most impressive spot.’

He gestured toward the path. ‘Wait until you see the cove.’

She set off; he followed, then stood expectantly as she halted where the rocky trail spilled out onto the sand.

‘It is lovely—almost enchanted!’ she cried. Pacing down the pristine pale expanse, she stopped near a large, sea-smoothed boulder to gaze through the needle of inlet out to the sea. ‘’Tis almost as I’d imagine a beach in the Caribes; waves lapping a golden shore, water a brilliant azure-turquoise. How I should love to have Eva capture the scene! I’d like a drawing of it myself.’

A wistful look replaced her initial expression of delight. ‘You were right; it would be restful to linger here.’ She patted the rock beside her. ‘Far from observing eyes, lulled by the warmth of the sun and the murmur of the surf while a gentle breeze blew all the cares from my mind.’

The melancholy chord in her voice touched him. What troubles did she wish to commit to the wind? he wondered. That powerful need to comfort and protect stirred in him again.

‘Have a seat now,’ he invited.

She smiled at him. ‘Perhaps I will.’

And she did, scrambling onto the rock, seating herself with her skirts tucked around her knees, even removing her bonnet and angling her face into the wind and sun.

Gabe levered himself up beside her, content for the moment, since her eyes remained closed, just to stare at her.

But as his eager gaze examined her, more elemental needs began rising. He struggled against the burgeoning lust, reminding himself that he’d promised if he managed to get her alone, he would not try to seduce her.

But the scent of her, that alluring line of bare skin from neck to throat as she arched her head back, the pert tip of her nose, the bits of burnished-wheat hair pulled loose by the wind…all of it made his hands itch to touch and his lips burn to nuzzle, as desire chipped away at his noble intent.

What would be the harm in one simple kiss? a little voice argued. Kiss her, as he’d longed to since forever, and he might discover if her taste, her touch affected him as profoundly as it had when he’d licked the drops of orange from her palm.

Probably it wouldn’t. Probably he’d discover his long time without a woman and the heightened sense of anticipation built by his continual teasing and tempting of her had exaggerated his previous response all out of proportion. One little kiss would set things back in perspective, would demonstrate that her effect on him was no more unique than that of anyone before her, that there was no need to change his life and rush a decision about his future, in order to make a place for her in it.

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