by Lorri Dudley
She held her shoulders back and her chin high in a regal pose as she watched the men row back to the ship. Her curves narrowed into a tiny waist that was probably no bigger than the span of his hands. Despite the heat, her properly gloved hands clasped her parasol in front of her, but the brisk breeze surely made such a thing impossible to use. She peered at the dock, toward the underdressed slaves laboring to load the supplies for their masters, but then she demurely averted her eyes.
She couldn’t be Fredrick’s daughter. However, the only other female who stepped off that ship was a matronly one, much too old and frail to be Fredrick’s youngest child. He had no other options, so he pushed off the rock and stepped onto the sandy beach. He’d ask the woman outright.
As his boots sank into the soft sand, he watched her wave to the departing ship and call out what he assumed to be bon voyage, but the wind swept away her words. She ran to the edge of the water and furiously waved both her arms. His jaw tensed. Had she developed a tender heart for one of the sailors? Some bird-witted chit, thinking she was half in love with a man who had a doxy in every port, was not going to survive on this island.
The woman lifted her skirts and waded into the water. Shaking his head, he muttered, “Lord help her, she’s nicked in the nob and halfway to Bedlam.”
If she had any sense, she’d give up and come back. The water rose to her knees. The noise from the dock dwindled as other men craned their necks to watch the happenings. She would turn around at any moment.
“Georgia!” the matronly woman’s back straightened. “Oh, my heavens, Georgia come back. You’ll drown.”
Georgia. Harrison’s jaw clenched. Fredrick’s youngest daughter’s name was Georgia.
God, I was trying to do a good deed for a friend. Please, don’t let this be difficult.
A wave crashed, the brunt of it almost knocking her over. The weight of her sodden skirts alone would drown her.
None of the men on shore attempted to go in after her.
Harrison stepped to the edge of the water. His boots sank into the wet sand. In his best reprimanding tone, he yelled, “Miss Lennox, come back or the undertow will pull you out to sea.”
Maybe his words would scare her into turning around. But she continued to wade deeper.
Blast! If he’d known he was going for a swim, he wouldn’t have worn his Hessians.
Chapter 2
…I am thankful for the opportunity to travel as Georgia’s companion. I could use a change of scenery, for I’ve rattled round in this lonely mansion ever since Richard’s passing.
—Lady Pickering to her sister-in-law Lady Nora Lennox
Harrison dropped his hat and jacket into a pile on the dry sand. “Miss Lennox,” he yelled with the same stern voice he’d use to reprimand his son. “Come back here this instant.”
When she didn’t even glance over her shoulder, he stepped into the lukewarm ocean. A low growl reverberated in his throat as the water seeped in and pooled in his boots. He’d have removed them if he could, but that process would take too long as the woman pressed farther into the waves. He trudged into the breakers, and the salt water flowed over his knees.
The waves pushed Miss Lennox back, and the sodden material of her dress slowed her steps. He turned sideways as a wave drenched his buckskin pants, changing them to a dark tan. When the swell passed, he pressed forward and easily caught up with her. Her bonnet dangled loosely down her back, and her soaked, golden hair shone in the sun. This was definitely Fredrick’s daughter.
“Whoever he was, he’s gone now.” He glanced up at the ship already miles offshore. “He’s not worth killing yourself over.”
Her head whipped around. Her eyes widened when she saw him, and she yelled back over the noise of the roaring waves, “Help me save my trunks!”
Harrison, now within arms’ length of her, stopped short. Trunks? A wave crested, and a large brown object bobbed up and down in its midst. “What are your trunks doing in the ocean?” He knew the answer as soon as he voiced the question. The captain wanted to outrun the impending storm. Harrison had been too distracted searching for Fredrick’s tomboy daughter to notice.
She glared at him over her shoulder with frosty blue eyes that could chill even the Caribbean’s tepid waters. “How could I understand the deuced crewmen’s reasons? All I know is everything I own is sinking to the bottom of the ocean.”
She leaned forward as if to swim out to the sinking luggage, but he lunged and grabbed the back of her gown to keep her put.
“Unhand me.”
She wriggled and pushed his hand away, but her efforts were thwarted by a hefty wave that crashed over them, pressing her body against his. Droplets of water dangled from her long lashes and dripped from her full pink lips. She wiped the water away with a swipe of her hand.
“Let me go.”
“Miss Lennox, you’ll drown before you reach them.”
She struggled harder. “I will not live on this God-forsaken island without my belongings.”
“They’re merely things. Let them go. You can purchase more.”
“No.” She shook her head, and droplets of water rained from her hair. “You don’t understand.”
Another wave crashed. Harrison slid an arm around her waist and fought to keep them both upright.
“I need them. My gowns, my linens, my personal effects, they’re who I am.” She rammed an elbow into his stomach.
“Ooof.” The sound slipped out before he could stop it. He grabbed her face between his fingers and forced her to look at him. “Enough. I’m not going to stand by and watch your foolishness sink you to a watery grave.” He scooped her up and carried her squirming body back toward shore. Each step was a struggle due to his water-laden boots and her sodden skirts, but the waves aided his progress as they crashed into the backs of his thighs and pushed him along.
She bellowed scathing remarks into his ear and pounded her fists against his chest, putting him off balance until one aggressive wave almost knocked them under the churning waters.
He pitched forward, and she screamed. Her arms flew around his neck and squeezed for dear life, nearly strangling him. At the last second, Harrison yanked his foot forward and propped himself upright. His lips tasted of salt water, and his labored breathing stretched the lining of his lungs.
By the time he placed her on the shore, his shoulders burned from the effort. Her saturated skirts must weigh fifty stones.
He leaned over to draw more air into his lungs, staring at the sand and his ruined boots.
Slap! Her wet gloved hand slammed against his cheek and jerked his head to the side.
“You had no right. No right.”
Harrison shook his head to clear it and stood to full height. Anger roared inside him, but he struggled to rein it in.
She stood before him, chest heaving in quick angry bursts, her wet hair plastered against the sides of her face. She glared at him with a defiant set to her jaw as water droplets streamed from her eyes, nose, and chin. “You could have helped me. I was almost there. A few more yards and I would have had them.”
“And then what would you have done?”
“I would have held onto them until they floated me back to shore.”
“Or out to sea.”
Her lips pinched together. “Someone would have come to my rescue.”
“Yes, and that someone was me, for all the gratitude it got me.”
She flung her hands in the air and stomped over to the woman still seated on the rock. “Come on, Aunt Tessa. Let’s find my father and get away from this lunatic.”
Miss Lennox eyed the small dock, but by now most of the merchants had loaded their goods and were gone. “Did you locate Papa?”
The aunt sat up straighter and pulled her shawl back over her shoulders. “No dear, I haven’t spotted him.”
Still dripping like a sodden flag, Miss Lennox scanned the beach, dock, and road for any sign of her father. She perked up as she spied a dark-skinned man, bare
foot with rolled-up pants, his eyes combing the beach. She approached the man. “Pardon me, have you seen Mister Fredrick Lennox, or do you know where I might find him?”
The man spoke in thick island jargon, and Harrison’s lips twitched as she reared back. Her eyes widened like two open parasols.
“I beg your pardon?” This time she leaned in and focused intently on the man’s lips.
The beachcomber repeated the same sentence, answering her in a mix of creole and Caribbean slang about how Mr. Lennox lived a few miles down the road, out in the bush, which was what the islanders call the country.
Miss Lennox blinked. “Th-thank you,” she murmured and scurried back to her aunt with a dazed expression.
“I know the man spoke English,” she shook her head as she spoke to the older lady, “but I haven’t the foggiest idea what he said to me.”
Harrison chuckled under his breath.
“Maybe you could ask the nice gentleman who rescued you? You appeared to strike up a conversation with him.”
The drenched Miss Lennox let out a huff, then scanned the dock again, probably praying someone else could be of service. Turning back around, she lifted her chin and marched in Harrison’s direction. She stopped directly in front of him and placed her hand at her waist. Despite looking like a half-drowned cat, she glowered at him with an aloof, stately demeanor.
“I beg your pardon. Do you happen to know a Mister Fredrick Lennox?”
Planting his feet, he folded his arms across his chest. “Why, yes, I do.”
“Could you tell me where he resides?”
“Indeed, I could.”
She waited, but he remained silent.
“Well?”
“Well what?” he asked.
“Aren’t you going to tell me?”
“No.”
She threw out her hands. “Heavens above, why not?”
“It’s not can I, it’s will I tell you, and I’m looking for a thank you first.”
“Thank you?” she snorted. “For what?”
“For saving your foolish life.”
Her lips tightened into a scowl, and he could almost see her mind wrestle over what she wanted versus what she needed. The noise of the pounding surf continued behind him, only broken by the screech of a seagull. Her arms stiffened into straight sticks by her sides. “Fine. Thank you.” Her fingers balled into fists and landed on her hips. “Now, will you tell me?”
He quirked an eyebrow, enjoying the two red splotches deepening on her cheeks. “Thank me for what exactly?”
Her eyes flashed, and she grumbled something he didn’t hear over the crash of the waves. Harrison bit back a smile. This might be worth ruining his boots over.
She exhaled a long breath. “Thank you for saving my life.”
He bowed slightly. “You’re welcome.” He trudged across the sand and bent over to pick up his hat and jacket. Instead of putting them on, he draped his coat over his left arm and kept his hat in his hand.
“Well?” She dogged his steps. “Aren’t you going to tell me?”
“He lives up near Tamarind Bay.”
“Can I hire a hack to take us there?”
He pointed to the conveyance near the road. “There’s one right there. Go and make yourself comfortable and someone will be by in a minute.”
She paused and tilted her head as she eyed him. “Thank you…er…good day, Mister…?”
“Wells, Harrison Wells.”
“Good day, Mister Wells.”
She adjusted her bonnet, gathered her aunt, and started in the direction of his open wagon. Her wet dress clung to her skin, revealing a nice figure and an appealing sway to her hips. Harrison jerked his gaze away.
Out in the water, an eruption of bubbles surfaced as the last of the floating trunks sank under the water. The wind whipped his jacket, and he hugged it tighter to his body. There were only a few puffy clouds on the horizon, but sure enough, a storm was coming.
Chapter 3
…I appeal to you to return posthaste. Ashburnham continues to spread rumors of your demise, to lay claim to your title and lands, and he has access to the King’s ear.
—From Lord Liverpool to the Duke of Linton in the Leeward Islands
Georgia pulled herself up into a carriage that, in her opinion, was more of a horse-drawn cart. There was one long wooden bench for the passengers and an open bed, where she assumed her trunks would have been placed. She sat next to the driver’s position and adjusted her sopping skirts as her aunt settled in next to her.
Aunt Tessa breathed in the tropical air and admired the surroundings. “Isn’t it wonderful to be back on land? Already the air smells sweeter, less briny. And to think we’re on an island. How very exciting.”
“England is an island,” Georgia murmured.
“It’s not a tropical island. Look around you. Isn’t it gorgeous? Have you ever seen such vibrant colors?”
Georgia didn’t want to look. She wanted to be back in London.
Aunt Tessa turned to face her. “Lady Dunkin told me the Artesian Hotel has a hot spring that makes the pump rooms of Bath seem tepid. She said its restorative qualities are second to none.”
“It can’t be that restorative. If it were so, my father would be healed.” And I’d still be in England.
“That is the first thing we shall encourage him to do. We’ll have Fredrick soak for an entire week if that’s what it takes.” She patted Georgia’s hand. “You’ll see, your father will be back to fair health in no time.”
Georgia gulped back her guilt. Her father lay dying from some God-forsaken illness on this God-forsaken island, and all she cared about was getting her things and sailing back to England. She straightened her shoulders. Why did he desert his family to come to this disease-infested place? If he had stayed in England, he wouldn’t be in this predicament. Would he? She stared down at her folded hands and tried to quiet her thoughts. Death was the ultimate price to pay for one’s sins. Did Papa deserve that?
The carriage tilted as the driver climbed up. She donned her most dazzling smile before turning to him. “Good day, sir. If you could kindly take us to…”
The driver tipped up his hat and eyed her with a crooked smile. “Tamarind Bay?”
“You.” It was the only word she could force out between her clenched teeth as Mr. Wells slid beside her and unhooked the reins.
This man, who’d thwarted her from recovering the things that meant the most to her in all the world, she’d no longer tolerate. She crossed her arms. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
He shrugged one shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “Feel free to ask someone else or to walk. Go about five miles down this road, then take a right. Can’t miss it.” He jumped out of the carriage and offered his hand to assist her down.
She hated the smug gleam in the arrogant man’s eyes. If only the ground would open up and swallow him whole. Raising her chin, she stood and extended her hand, but quickly retracted it. Did she have a choice? Her father had obviously forgotten about her arrival or didn’t care enough to send anyone to pick her up. She couldn’t ask Aunt Tessa to walk five miles in the hope that these vague directions would take them to Papa’s home. And she certainly couldn’t leave her aunt here unprotected.
He stood there waiting, watching, with a superior look on his face.
“I presume you are already going in that direction. Correct?”
His eyes never left hers. “You presume correctly.”
She lowered back into her seat. “Well then, I recant my decision. We will accept your offer to take us to the Lennox estate.” She stared straight ahead, her back stiff as a ramrod.
Harrison’s chest swelled in victory from their battle of wills, but he wondered at his motives. Since when did he harass newcomers—especially of the female variety? It had to be Miss Lennox. Her high-in-the-instep, insolent demeanor irritated him. Irritation. That was it.
Why then had his heart raced when she’d smiled before she real
ized it was him? He hadn’t felt a pull like that since... Laura. He swallowed against the pain in his chest. Unlike his beloved wife, this chit had a lot of gall.
God, forgive me for wishing I hadn’t fished Miss Lennox out of the ocean.
He pulled himself back into the wagon and grabbed the reins.
Help me see her the way You see her, because right now I’m struggling to find any redemptive qualities.
After a sufficient snap of the reins, the horses lumbered toward home. Had he made a mull of things by sending for Miss Lennox? Fredrick needed family by his side to see to his comfort before he succumbed completely to the ague.
Judging by her actions, he never would have pegged her for Fredrick’s favored daughter. But the way Fredrick’s eyes lit up when he spoke of his precious Georgia told him how special she was to him. Maybe Fredrick’s memories of her had changed. Or more likely, perhaps, she had changed. It had been six years since he and Fredrick met aboard the Aberdeen. A lot could shift in that time.
He dared a sideways glance at the haughty woman beside him. Even dripping wet, she kept her regal pose. She was beautiful, he had to admit. Long, sooty lashes framed her vivid blue eyes and complemented a small, pert nose. Her full lips even had a slight pout to them, as if begging to be kissed. If she wasn’t so high-in-the-instep, he might have fancied her.
He let out a grunt. That would be the day.
But his conscience continued to eat at him. Maybe he’d been hasty in drawing his conclusions. Anyone would be snippy and a little crazed after such a long voyage and losing her things. Even though they were only possessions, the stress of the journey could have easily built inside her until releasing through her crazed swim in the ocean.
He frowned and glanced in her direction. She looked downright uncomfortable. Her hands grasped the wooden bench seat in a tight grip as she pretended not to be jostled by the bumps in the road.