“But I never showed you how to polish them.”
“You did. On several occasions.” He glanced to Lieutenant Harris with a veiled smile.
“But did I ever—”
“Yes, you did.”
She pursed her lips. “You did not know what I was about to say.”
“You were very thorough, Abigail,” Gavin said. “I’m certain you did not forget to teach me a single thing.”
She sighed. “Very well. Only assure me that you trimmed the wicks, and then I shall leave you be.”
His face fell, his eyes widening. “Oh, no. That is what I forgot.”
She gasped, fingers covering her mouth, before she caught sight of his lips twitching. She dropped her hand, propping it on her waist. “That was hardly amusing, Captain Kendricks.”
He chuckled to himself, lifting the beam of wood to the other end of the paddock.
“Was he this insufferable at sea?” she asked Lieutenant Harris.
“Yes, ma’am. Even more so when we both served as lieutenants.”
“I learned my bad behavior from you, Harris,” Gavin said to his mate.
Abigail could imagine the both of them teasing the other aboard the ships they manned. She would have liked to see Gavin as a lieutenant. Or perhaps as a regular seaman, rigging up the ship, his shirt removed to deal with the heat from the glaring sun above. His muscles working as he laughed with his shipmates.
The front door opened. Abigail blinked away the image to see Mr. Cull disappear inside.
Now she could no longer see him. What if he made even more notes about the inside of their home? She groaned.
“I’d say you are in need of a distraction.”
Gavin dropped his tools to the ground and walked toward her. “Harris, I’m sorry, but I think we ought to end our work for the day. If I do not see to my wife, she will drive herself mad.”
Lieutenant Harris, ever-cheerful, agreed to return on the morrow. Gavin went inside next to tell the Honeysetts the same thing, and they soon left, as well.
When they were alone, Abigail blew out an annoyed huff. “We do not need to stop working. After all, it is the best sort of distraction.”
Gavin offered her his arm. “No, no more working for you. You need to discover other, more relaxing ways to distract you.”
Hesitantly, she took his arm. Her fingers warmed against his flesh, his sleeves rolled to his upper arms. “Well, then what do you suggest?”
“A nice, leisurely stroll along the beach.”
Her lips pulled into a frown. A stroll? On the beach? She could not remember when she had last spent leisure time on the sand.
They walked down the winding slope and reached Golowduyn Beach in a matter of moments. They moved to just out of the water’s reach as Gavin sat down in the sand, motioning for her to sit next to him.
She tilted her head. “I thought you said you wanted to walk.”
“Yes, but now I wish to sit.” He leaned back, his legs crossed at his ankles as he patted the sand next to him. “Come, sit.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I do not know how you can rest comfortably with that”—she waved her hand in the air with a flourish toward the lighthouse”—and the man within looming above us.”
“Because there is nothing more we can do.” His brown eyes looked out to the sea. “Please, sit down with me.”
With a sigh, Abigail relented, plopping down next to him. She tucked her legs beneath her as she rested one hand in the sand. “There, I have sat down. Now what do you wish me to do?”
“Now I wish for you to relax. Breathe.” He motioned to the sea. “When was the last time you simply enjoyed the scenery around you?”
She raised her chin. “I do so nearly every day.”
“That is entirely untrue, Abigail Kendricks, and you know it.”
Her innocent expression did not last long when he raised his eyebrows toward her with a knowing look. Abigail had never seen that shade of brown before in a pair of eyes. In the sunlight, they shone nearly copper.
“Very well,” she said, facing forward, if only to stop herself from gazing further into his captivating eyes. “I concede. Perhaps I do not enjoy the scenery nearly as much as I used to. I suppose I have been distracted.”
“Understandably,” Gavin agreed. “Much has occurred in your life these past few weeks. However, it is good to slow down at times to appreciate this beauty. Not everyone is as fortunate as we are to live here.”
That was true enough. Before her uncle’s death, even with the amount of work she had seen to, she had still taken the time to enjoy the sunset, to feel the wind caressing her face, to hear the gulls crying above the sea.
Perhaps Gavin was right. Perhaps she did need to relax, to appreciate the beauty around her—as she once did.
With a calming breath, she looked to the water. The waves changed colors as they curved toward the land. Silver in the sun’s light as they peaked. Black beneath the waves’ crests. Sapphire blue where the water stretched out endlessly before them.
The sand beneath her hands warmed her skin, and the salty sea breeze stroked her face.
The sea had always proved to soothe her nerves. Why had she stayed away for so long?
“May I ask you a question, Abigail?”
Her eyes squinted in the bright sunshine. “Of course.”
“Why do you appear hesitant to speak about your past? I mean, before you came to Golowduyn?”
She struggled to grasp onto the peace she had felt before, though it slipped through her fingers like wet sand. “I’m not hesitant to speak of such things.”
She had lied. And she was fairly certain Gavin knew it. Her chest tightened, and she leaned forward, circling her finger around in the sand. Perhaps if she offered to answer his questions, he would leave her be—perhaps he would not dig so deeply into what she prayed remained covered.
“What would like you to know?” she asked. “You may ask me anything.”
And she would respond with honesty. So long as he did not ask questions she could not answer.
He narrowed his eyes, as if to test the waters of her willingness. “Very well. So you mentioned you were at a boarding school before Mr. Moore brought you here. Where was the school located?”
That was an easy enough answer. “In a small town in Cheshire.”
“Had you ever been to Cornwall before you came here? On a visit, perhaps?”’
“No.” Another easy answer.
“Did you return to Cheshire after your uncle brought you here?”
“No, nor do I ever intend to.”
She avoided his stares as his questions continued.
“Your uncle mentioned that his family home was in Staffordshire. Were you born there, as well, before being sent to school?”
She smoothed the sand next to her with her palm, focusing on the crumbly texture as she stared at the water sliding up the beach. “No, my mother bore me elsewhere.”
She knew he expected more from her, but what else could she say without crossing into dangerous territory?
“Were you close with her?” he asked next.
As the waves receded, bubbles clung to the sand in front of her before popping silently into the air. “Not particularly. She died shortly before I was sent to school, so I don’t remember much about her.”
“So…your father chose to send you then?”
“No, my…my grandmother did.”
She could see the surprise in his eyes, could already hear the next comment on his tongue.
“I did not know you knew your grandmother,” he would say. “Were you close to her, or your father?” he would ask.
But she could not respond without sharing more than she wished to. The conversation needed to change. Immediately.
She glanced up at the lighthouse. “Do you think Mr. Cull will be finished now? I do wonder why he is taking so long.”
Gavin did not respond. He was either wondering about the family she never spoke of—or how he had been corr
ect in his assumption that she did not like to speak about her past.
Either way, she was going to allow the conversation to lie dormant. At least for the time being. She needed to tell him the truth, and one day she would. But he had said himself that she need not speak of it until she was ready.
And she certainly was not ready.
She focused on the cliffside where the waves splashed onto the rocks, water spilling down over the uneven sides. The shipwreck had long since been cleaned up, but she could almost see the Valour still on its side, sails flapping in the wind, wood splintered into pieces.
She narrowed her eyes.
Splintered wood? How could that be? It was not from the shipwreck, was it?
“What is that?” She stood, taking a few steps forward. Her heart sank in her chest as slowly as her boots in the sand. “Gavin. That is our boat.”
He came up to her side. “Are you certain?”
“Yes, look.”
She pointed before moving across the sand, Gavin following closely behind. When they neared the rocks, they could not deny what they saw. The small vessel lay in irreparably broken pieces upon the rocky shoreline.
“How did it become loose?” she questioned. “I’m certain I tied it last I used it.”
She looked to the top of the beach. The rope was missing from the stake her uncle had driven deep into the sand years before.
“Did you use the boat last?” she asked him.
“I’ve never used it before,” Gavin replied. “But you must have heard the storm last night. Perhaps the waves reached it and tore it away.”
She struggled to swallow, the anxiety constricting her throat. “What if it storms again tonight? What are we to do if a shipwreck occurs and we have no boat to help them?” An unsettling image of sailors crying out for help amidst the rocks flashed before her mind. “Gavin, what are we to do?”
He rested a hand on her shoulder. “Worry not. When Mr. Cull is finished, I’ll ride to Mr. Honeysett to see if we may borrow one of his boats until we can commission another for us.”
Of course. That was the sensible thing to do. The tension in her neck eased, though only slightly. She still could not understand how the boat had become loose.
“Come along.”
She looked to Gavin, who offered his arm to her, a disappointed look on his face.
“Let us return to the lighthouse,” she said. “I can see you still need a bit of practice when it comes to enjoying time away from work.”
Abigail followed him back to Golowduyn.
Before long, Mr. Cull emerged from the house. His face was red as he swiped a handkerchief over his brow.
Abigail glanced sidelong at Gavin. “That is how you appeared when you first climbed to the lamp room.”
His mouth dropped open in mock offense. “I did not.”
Mr. Cull cleared his throat, breaking through the look they shared.
“I trust you found Golowduyn in a much better state than expected,” Gavin said.
“I did,” Mr. Cull responded. “The lighthouse is nowhere near perfect, I assure you. But the incentive you have shown in merely a week is promising, indeed.”
Abigail could hardly believe her ears. The man was pleased with what he saw?
He continued. “As such, Trinity House will be pleased to continue our arrangement with Golow…Gwolow…with your lighthouse.”
Abigail and Gavin exchanged quick glances, and her excitement doubled to see his brown eyes alight with joy.
“Thank you, sir,” Abigail said.
“I am also to inform you,” he continued, “that as you seem more than willing to work honestly with us, we will not require you to pay back the sum your uncle mismanaged. You may expect a letter soon to officially extend the contract. As for now, I must excuse myself to return my report. Good day to you both.”
They watched him hoist himself into the carriage.
The moment the door shut and the horses pulled away, Abigail and Gavin turned toward each other.
“We did it,” he said.
“I can’t believe it,” she replied.
And she couldn’t. They had proven themselves worthy, and Golowduyn would remain lit. Her chest swelled. She could no longer help herself.
With giddy laughter, she sailed toward Gavin and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Thank you,” she said. “It could not have been done without you.”
Gavin hesitated only a moment before returning Abigail’s embrace. Her laughter lilted in his ear, overpowering his self-control. He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of her hair as he leaned in closer to her.
She smelled of the sea.
Time stood still as he held her, he allowed his hands to spread out across her back, holding her closer, tighter. Their embrace before, after the letter from Trinity House, had been one more of comfort.
But this one…this one overwhelmed his senses. This one caused his mind to spin.
This one stirred the feelings in his heart—feelings that had been simmering since the very day he’d met the woman.
And he wanted nothing more than to explore those feelings further.
Her arms relaxed around his neck, and she pulled back enough for their eyes to meet, but he did not release his hold of her. He peered into her eyes that were as blue as the sea. What secrets were behind them—bright one moment, dark the next—as she moved from staring at the sea to speaking of her past?
One day, he would help her overcome her trepidations, but now…now he was going to relish the feel of the woman in his arms.
And no matter what, he would not become distracted by her smooth lips that beckoned him forward as she raised her chin. Lips that he could nearly feel on his own. Lips that parted as he closed the distance between them.
Until Abigail dropped her gaze and pulled away from his hold.
His hands fell to his sides, his heart sinking faster than an anchor plummeting into the sea.
“I suppose we still have work to do,” Abigail said, scratching the back of her neck and looking toward the house. “Even if we have passed the inspection.”
Gavin stifled a sigh, still attempting to restrain his disappointment. “Yes, you are right. We mustn’t celebrate prematurely.”
Her eyes flickered toward him before she ducked her head and scurried toward the house.
Gavin watched her skirts sway back and forth as she departed, and reality slowly returned. He could not say he was glad the kiss had not occurred, but their relationship was probably better for it, what with their agreement still intact.
And yet, he took heart. He had seen the look of desire in her eyes, and the way she had leaned in closer to him.
Yes, his wife had seemed to want to kiss him as greatly as he had wished to kiss her.
And that, more than anything, encouraged him to maintain his patience. He could hold off as long as he needed to, so long as the prize was winning Abigail’s affection.
* * *
An hour later, and Abigail was still inside hiding away. Gavin had ridden and returned from the Honeysetts, requesting the use of their boat. And after, he’d brought Lieutenant Harris back from St. Just, now the inspection was complete.
She could see them working away at the paddock as she measured the curtains against the sitting room windows. The task was a fine enough excuse to avoid her husband after what had occurred—or rather, hadn’t occurred—between them.
She had been so silly to embrace him. And her eyes lingering on his mouth? Why, that was simply foolish. Of course she would wish to kiss him after that. The subtle, masculine curves of his lips had nearly pulled her in on their own.
Fortunately she had recalled their agreement before anything might have actually happened. Not that kissing him would have been terrible. In truth, she had an inkling that sharing such a moment with Gavin would be very nice. But that was the opposite of what they both wanted, was it not?
The door opened, footsteps sounding, and her heart j
umped.
“Abigail?” Gavin appeared around the corner, his arms filled with stacks of brown-wrapped packages. “These have just come for you. Your new clothing. And this one is from me.”
She stared at the pile as he laid them on the settee. He had purchased her a gift? Her eyes lingered on the small, rectangular package on the top. She itched to open the gowns, to feel the fine fabric once again between her fingertips. But she had an even greater desire to see what he had purchased for her.
However, with Gavin still standing in the room, she needed to see first how he fared after their near-kiss. To her disappointment, he seemed rather cheerful.
“Did you see the Honeysetts?” she asked.
“Yes. Mr. Honeysett is more than willing to lend us his boat. Harris and I will retrieve it just as soon as the paddock is completed.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded, lingering behind the settee. “Before I forget, there is something I wish to ask you.”
Her shoulders tensed. She braced for another question related to her past. “Yes?”
“What would you say to having Lieutenant Harris look after the lamps?”
She blinked, attempting to keep up with the jump in topics. “May I ask why? Do we need him to?”
He shrugged, picking at the wood at the back of the settee. “Well, as Lieutenant Harris and I were leaving town today, Mrs. Stedman approached me with an invitation to her dinner party, to be held in a week’s time. I thought we could instruct Harris so he could look after the lights for a few hours while we attend the party together.”
At the mention of the Stedmans, Abigail’s heart hardened. “Did Mrs. Stedman not tell you I had already declined her invitation?”
“No, she didn’t. But then…why did you not tell me you knew of the invitation before now?”
“I suppose it slipped my memory,” she muttered, too angry to say anything else.
Mrs. Stedman extending the invitation to Gavin—after already knowing of Abigail’s refusal—was nothing more than the woman’s attempt to draw closer to Gavin.
The woman was a snake.
“Well,” Gavin began, apparently unaware of the anger raging in her soul, “now that Golowduyn has passed the inspection, might you reconsider your answer? Lieutenant Harris will be more than capable. We could leave and return before the first refilling. And if it storms, of course, we could remain here.”
Behind the Light of Golowduyn (A Cornish Romance Book 1) Page 16