Behind The Light 0f Golowduyn (A Cornish Romance Book 1)

by Deborah M. Hathaway

  He turned, and together, they reached for the paddles. But their combined momentum caused the boat to tip too far, and they both slipped into the cold water.

  Abigail held her breath. Her senses screamed as the frigid sea surrounded her. She swiped her arms through the water, but the movement of the waves pulled her body back and forth, preventing her from knowing the way to the surface. She tucked her legs in close to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, and waited until her body raised. Finally, she thrust her arms out and launched herself up toward the surface of the water.

  Once she reached the air, she drew in a deep breath, wiping away the hair and moisture from her eyes and looking around her. Gavin emerged a moment later. He gave his head a single shake, and his wet hair slanted across his brow.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, spitting water from his mouth. She nodded, and he motioned to the boat. “Stay here.”

  Abigail held onto the side of the boat as Gavin cut through the water with ease to where the oars had floated a few strokes away. He returned with the paddles in hand, tossing them inside before facing her with a raised brow.

  “Now we are equally wet,” he said.

  A smile spread across her wet lips. “I am inclined to agree with you, sir.”

  A soft wave roved past them, their legs brushed against each other, and their eyes locked. Abigail’s smile faded away. Her heart quickened, and her breath caught. She could no longer deny the desire she saw in Gavin’s focused gaze. Not when it so clearly matched her own.

  He reached out to hold her upper arm, and slowly, gently, he pulled her toward him through the water. She swallowed, her mind whirling with nervousness as his eyes dropped to her mouth.

  She had longed for this moment, for Gavin’s lips to finally be upon hers. Her feelings for the captain had always been of gratitude and admiration. But something else had been simmering in her heart—something far more powerful. Something in that moment that made her lips part and caused her very soul to tremble with anticipation.

  His free hand trailed up her arm out of the water and over her shoulder. She blinked, struggling to remain in control of her breathing. His caress moved to cradle the back of her neck with his fingertips.

  She felt his gentle hand drawing her closer. She needed no further coaxing. But still, she waited for him as he moved forward a breath at a time. He tipped his head to one side. Her eyes fluttered to a close, and she waited eagerly, impatiently. Finally, his lips brushed against hers in a slow, lingering kiss.

  Her breathing hitched. The feel of his mouth on hers sent pleasant tingles down the flesh of her back. He pulled away for a single moment—long enough for their eyes to meet, for her heart to cry out in want of his affection, for her mind to spin at the sight of his alluring half-smile—before he sailed toward her in a single, swift motion.

  His lips pressed against hers with a warmth that infused her body. She could no longer feel the cold of the ocean—only Gavin’s kiss remained.

  Currents of freedom, of peace, curved around her heart as they floated weightless in the water. Gavin’s hand moved down her back to encircle her waist. She released her hold of the boat to slide her arms around his neck. His responding sigh sent a thrill through her chest as their bodies floated as one in the sea.

  She’d never felt so secure, so protected as Gavin held her in his embrace. She prayed that the moment might never end, and that Gavin might never let her go.

  * * *

  Gavin could think of nothing else but Abigail—her soft lips on his, her arms around his neck, her feminine frame against his body.

  His desire for her could not be satisfied. How he had longed for her kiss, for their hearts to beat as one.

  The words blared in his mind as loud as any canon. So powerfully, so acutely did he feel them, he could not deny their truth.

  He loved her. He had fallen for her the moment she had rescued him from the sea. And the feeling had only grown with each moment he spent with her, each look they shared, each indication of her strength and tenacity through the adversity she’d faced in her life.

  It was no wonder he loved her.

  And yet, his feelings could not be shared. Not yet. He knew she felt something for him in return—he was even more certain as she fervently returned his kiss—but he could not risk the delicacy of their developing relationship by sharing something she was not quite ready to return.

  So, for now, he would simply relish in the knowledge of his love for her. And he would focus on the taste of her sweet lips, and the feel of his heart as it swelled for the woman he loved.

  Yes, he would keep his feelings to himself for as long as she needed him to. Because Abigail was more than worth the wait.

  * * *

  Abigail was breathless. She could taste the salty sea on their lips. The cold ocean began to numb her limbs. Still, she did not pull away. There was something in Gavin’s kiss, some emotion behind his affection that prevented her from stopping. She longed to explore it, to discover for herself what he felt.

  But when a small wave bumped into them, splashing cold water across her brow, she pulled back with a soft gasp.

  Their eyes met, and a pleasing shiver coursed through her body.

  “Perhaps we ought to dry off,” Gavin said, his voice low, raspy.

  His arm slid down her back, resting on her hip in the water before he released her altogether.

  She removed her arms from around his neck, ignoring her desire to pull him straight back in for another kiss, and grasped onto the boat.

  He reached for the boat with his other hand, moving up and down in the water before pulling himself into the rocking vessel. He extended his hand and helped her in with a swift pull up.

  Once they were situated, Gavin rowed them back to shore.

  “I suppose the fishing will have to wait,” he said, quirking a brow in her direction. “Perhaps for when you are in a less mischievous mood.”

  She did not bother to curb her grin.

  After they reached the shore and secured the boat, they headed for the lighthouse. She shivered as they reached the top of the cliffs, though the cold hardly registered in her mind. She was too busy recalling their kiss.

  However, as they walked toward the shed with the fishing pole in her hand, a strange tapping noise reached her ears, and her brow furrowed. “What is that?”

  Gavin glanced toward her. They followed the noise to the oil hutch, and a sinking in her stomach made her legs grow weak. The door stood wide open, swinging on one hinge as it bounced repeatedly against the side of the lighthouse.

  She ran toward the hutch, standing in the doorway. Oil seeped into the grass outside of the small supply room. The floor glistened from the spillage. The three large vats—once holding the oil that was now spilled across the floor—boasted jagged slashes at the bottom of each metal container.

  “None of this is salvageable,” she said as the air fled from her lungs. “All of it is gone.”

  Gavin took a step forward, oil pooling around his boots. “Was the door locked?”

  She looked around her before retrieving the broken lock from the grass nearby. “I know for certain that it was.”

  * * *

  Gavin could hear the trembling in Abigail’s voice.

  But when she looked up at him, he was surprised to see anger—not worry—dimming her blue eyes.

  “The boy has gone too far this time, Gavin,” she said with flared nostrils. “After all we have been through, to now risk losing Golowduyn simply because of this child and his selfish actions? I will not stand for it.”

  Myles. Of course she was referring to Myles. Who else would be terrorizing them? He rubbed the back of his neck as she continued.

  “How dare he do this? He must have been watching us, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Does he not understand what he has done? How will we keep the ships away from Dulatha Cliffs without any oil for the lamps? How will any of them stay safe?”

  Despite his
own worry for the dismal circumstances, a strange amusement welled within him at her scrunched-up nose and lowered brow. She paced back and forth before him, so he rested a hand on the side of her shoulder to stop her. “Let us try to salvage what little oil we can from the bottom of the vats for this evening. Then I will ride to St. Just and request an urgent order for more.”

  Abigail shrugged away from his touch and continued her marching in the grass. “No, I will ride to St. Just so I may seek the boy out. First, I shall make him apologize. Then I shall drag him here—by the scruff of his neck, if needs be—and he shall be forced to clear away this mess. And I will next make him clean the henhouse, and then I will personally see to his—”

  “Abigail.” His lip twitched. The scene was too delightful. “I know you are upset, but—”

  “He will not get away unpunished,” she said, staring toward the stables. “No, I shall ride for him now.”

  She stormed off, and the humor of the situation vanished as he realized she was in earnest. “No, Abigail, you cannot confront him.”

  “Yes, I can. And I will.”

  He ran after her as she stomped through the grass, holding her arm and speaking firmly. “No, it will not help. You must remember how Myles reacted when I last spoke with him.”

  Gavin certainly did. It had taken days to remove the mess the boy had spat upon his jacket.

  Abigail blinked, sense returning to her eyes.

  “He is in a fragile state,” he said. “Dangerous. I fear he may do something worse.”

  “Dangerous.” Abigail scoffed. “I will show him ‘dangerous’ if he dares step foot near Golowduyn again.”

  Gavin pressed his lips together to avoid another grin. “I do not doubt it. And I promise you, we will resolve the matter later. For now, however, our priority lies with the oil and the lamps.”

  She nodded, and her shoulders visibly fell.

  After tipping the vats sideways and managing to fill three pails of oil, Gavin helped Abigail carry them indoors. Then he rode for St. Just, leaving her safely behind the walls of Golowduyn and a locked door—all the while praying that Myles would have the sense to stay away.

  For if Abigail saw him, he knew the boy would sorely pay.

  Chapter Eleven

  The vandalism of Golowduyn Lighthouse pressed heavily on their minds for days, despite their attempts to resolve the issue.

  When new vats had been delivered and the oil replenished, they replaced the lock on the hutch and added a large bell that sounded out each time the door opened.

  Gavin had spoken with Lieutenant Harris about the damage done to their property, and after an unproductive meeting with the local constable—who could not be bothered to do anything further than commiserate—Gavin and Lieutenant Harris had decided to keep watch themselves.

  However, days later, the lieutenant came by to inform them that Myles had been fired from his work at the local farmer’s and was spotted at the tavern in Camborne, many miles northeast of St. Just.

  “I suppose that will be the last we see of him then,” Gavin said. “He has nothing to keep him here any longer.”

  But Abigail and Lieutenant Harris had exchanged unconvinced glances.

  Still, knowing the boy had departed eased Abigail’s mind, and her worries gradually shifted to the impending arrival of Gavin’s family.

  She knew Gavin looked forward to his brother’s visit, but she struggled with feelings of dread as she prepared for them—purchasing extra candles, dishware, and new bedding, and cleaning the lighthouse from top to bottom alongside Poppy and Mrs. Honeysett.

  When the day finally arrived, Abigail stood in the doorway of Golowduyn, Gavin at her side. The rain poured in droves across the land that morning, fitting for Abigail’s mood as she moved through the checklist in her mind. She was sure she had forgotten something. Or perhaps it was just her apprehension rearing its head.

  “Did you remember to bring your clothing into my room?” she asked.

  “Yes, you helped me. And my trunk and other belongings are in there, as well.”

  She nodded. That was certainly one thing she would not forget—Gavin sharing her room with her.

  When Abigail had realized that all the rooms would be spoken for during the visit—Gavin’s room for Gertrude and Lionel, the study for the female servants, and the circular room for the men—she had asked Gavin where he was planning to stay.

  “The watch room will suffice,” he had said.

  But Abigail had instantly protested. The room was far too cold, and they both knew it. There was nothing else to do but offer her own room.

  “You ought not be the one to suffer when it is your own home,” she had said when he’d turned his surprised eyes upon her. “You can sleep on a cot in my room and be far more comfortable.”

  So Gavin had accepted, and Abigail had tried not to dwell on the intimacy of the situation that lay before them.

  Thunder rumbled softly over the ocean. Abigail fought the instinct to lean outside and look up to ensure the light remained aglow. She didn’t need to, what with Lieutenant Harris watching over the lamps that morning.

  At least that was one thing she did not have to worry about. Although, she would not have minded taking the lieutenant’s place in the watch room, thereby missing the arrival of the Kendrickses.

  “Did I change the linens on their bed?” she asked, trying to ignore the swirling in her stomach.

  “Yes. Do not fret. You remembered everything, I’m certain. And,” he looked down at her, “you look lovely.”

  She knew he simply said so to ease her discomfort. She wore the same yellow gown that she had worn to Pryvly House, still unable to find the courage to wear anything else.

  “I must be honest, though,” Gavin continued, his eyes shining, “I was hoping you’d wear your cap today. I know how you like to make a strong first impression.”

  “Like I made upon you?”

  He stared down at her. “I married you, did I not?”

  His eyes flickered to her lips, and butterflies took flight in her stomach. They had not kissed since that first time in the sea, though Abigail had thought of the occurrence daily.

  She could only guess that Gavin thought about their affection, as well. His eyes continually stared at her as they worked around the lighthouse, and he’d taken her hand in his just the other night as they strolled across the beach at sunset. But then, she could not understand why he had not kissed her again. She wondered if he regretted the affection, even though she knew he had enjoyed it as greatly as she had.

  Before she could make sense of his behavior, her attention was captured by two carriages appearing around the ridge, heading straight for the lighthouse.

  “There they are,” Gavin said, excitement clearly ringing in his tone.

  Abigail stared at the large coaches, each drawn by four white horses. They had arranged to store the coaches in town during the length of their visit, and Abigail was glad that they had. There certainly wasn’t room for them on the grounds of Golowduyn.

  “Were these the coaches you had as a boy?” she asked, eying the purple velvet curtains in each of the large windows.

  “Yes, I believe so,” Gavin said.

  She stared at the polished trim and the Kendricks coat of arms decorating the sides. She knew Gavin was well-off, but at the sight of his family’s affluency—and the knowledge of his own generous living and fortune he’d earned in the navy—an overwhelming sense of inferiority came upon her, and she longed to hide away in the kitchen with the Honeysetts.

  The moment the carriages stopped, three servants jumped out of the second coach, popping up umbrellas and holding them with outstretched hands as they lined the pathway toward Gavin and Abigail.

  A footman opened the door to the front carriage, and a gentleman exited. He looked like Gavin, though his nose was rounder and his hair lighter. He pointed toward Gavin with a broad smile.

  “Brother!” the man, no doubt Lionel, called out.
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br />   His curious eyes shifted to Abigail, before he turned to extend a hand within the carriage. Dainty, gloved fingers reached forth, and an elegant woman in dark blue traveling clothes descended the steps. Her light bonnet framed a feminine face and flawless skin.

  Abigail watched in silence as Gavin stepped out into the rain, arms outstretched toward his brother. They greeted one another, slapping each other upon their backs with laughter.

  “It has been far too long, Gavin.”

  “Though it could have been longer,” Gavin quipped. “Not fit for the navy. Isn’t that what you said about me?”

  “Must you bring up words from our past?”

  “Well, clearly my husband was wrong, Captain Kendricks,” Gertrude said from behind them.

  “That title will not hold for long, though, when my retirement becomes official,” Gavin said, turning to his brother’s wife and bestowing a small kiss on the back of her glove. “Gertrude, such a pleasure to see you again.”

  “And you, dear brother,” she said. “How pleased we were that you have finally chosen to retire, and with such acclaim. The whole of Gloucestershire is pleased.”

  “Just as they were to have heard word of your marriage,” Lionel added.

  All eyes fell upon Abigail then, who still stood in the doorway. Her back was rigid.

  “Lionel, Gertrude,” Gavin said, “do follow me indoors so I may finally introduce to you my lovely wife.”

  Abigail backed into the house to allow the others’ entrance. The hallway was too small for the four of them to stand comfortably, so she and Gavin led the way to the sitting room to make the introductions.

  “We are so pleased to finally meet you, Mrs. Kendricks,” Lionel said after his bow.

  “Indeed,” Gertrude added. “But Gavin’s correspondence with us has always been abysmal. As such, we know very little of you.”

  The woman’s eyes traveled around the room as she crossed the floor, raising her skirts to a modest level and sitting upon the edge of the settee.