She whirled to leave, but he was surprisingly quick. He grasped the railing, his arm barring her way. His body blocked the wind, and he was so close she could feel the heat of him.
“You misunderstand me. It’s Isabelle that I’m concerned about. She is young and not prepared to deal with the likes of my cousin. You are older, and if any woman can put Reggie in his place, it would be you.”
Older? He considered her older? Lily drew herself up, the top of her head at a level with his chin. Why was this man so blasted tall? “Thank you for the warning, Mr. Huntington. As her older cousin, I will be on my guard. Now, if you will excuse me, I have had a dreadful day.”
She pushed past, and he did not try to stop her.
***
A storm had come upon them late the first night, with winds that sang through the rigging and great foam-flecked waves that surged along the side of the ship and sent up jets of spray at the bow. Even now, three days later, the wind still blew in gusts, but the sun was warm on Lily’s face and the waves had subsided. She sat near the aft railing, her sketchbook propped on her lap, making quick studies of the seagulls that followed the ship. They seemed so sure of themselves, soaring effortlessly, their calls harsh and exciting. Behind them the distant coast of Portugal was a dark line where the sea met the sky.
One old veteran of a bird landed on deck to beg for a handout. “You must be the one Richard was talking about at luncheon. Did you approve of the sardine he stole for you?”
Her cousin had been one of the few passengers unaffected by the tossing of the ship—one of the lucky few who could face a sardine with a smile. James had been another; she had glimpsed him in a greatcoat exiting the saloon on two occasions.
She herself had not felt particularly ill, but Mrs. Hodges and Aunt Mary had both succumbed, and Isabelle was still not her usual self. Lily ought to go check on her soon.
The bird tilted its head to look at her.
“Sorry, I’ve no food for you, old fellow.”
“But I do.” The baronessa was approaching with a bit of cracker in her hand. She tossed it to the gull, who took it and scuttled a few feet away to enjoy his feast.
“Hello, Miss Lily. You are drawing Richard’s friend, yes? May I see?”
“Certainly.” Lily handed her the sketchbook. She remembered that once she had felt shy about showing her work to others. Now it seemed natural. It was what it was—like a heartbeat, it needed no excuse or apology even when the work was rough.
“How lovely your drawing is. Just a line or two from your pencil and a wing appears, a beak, an eye. It is a magic, I think. I wish I could do this. Then I would never forget the beautiful things.”
Lily smiled. To never forget the beautiful things. That was what she wanted, too.
“I saw you also sketching the captain. He is an excellent subject, no? Despite that he is happily married.”
They both laughed. The baronessa exaggerated her attraction to the captain, who seemed a decent, though unremarkable, fellow. She turned the pages of Lily’s book and paused at a sketch of James sitting next to Uncle Edward. She tilted her head, dark eyes twinkling. “But the captain is not the only excellent subject aboard, I see. Mr. Huntington, he watches you with such eyes when he thinks you are not looking—and now I see you are watching him too.”
Lily held her hand out for the sketchbook. “I hear we will be stopping in Spain, at Cadiz. Won’t you be glad to take an afternoon off the ship? I certainly will.”
The baronessa made a humming sound and did not answer immediately. Lily watched the seagull sidle closer, hoping for another tidbit. She would not talk about James. She could not.
“Yes, Miss Lily, to feel the solid land, especially after these last days when we could not come out on deck. I am grown weary of books and cards. They say the cathedral is very fine, and one supposes many handsome Spanish men will be lounging on the piazza smoking their cigars.”
Lily smiled—she could not help it. “You and your handsome men! Think of the broken hearts you leave behind.”
The baronessa’s smile faltered. “I do. I think of it every day.”
“I am so sorry. I did not mean—”
“I know, bella. You have a good heart—one that you should learn to trust. As for my heart”—she shrugged—“it will mend. One day. But I am keeping you from your sketching.”
“Not at all. It’s high time I put it away. I promised Isabelle I would look in on her—she is still not feeling well and is resting in our stateroom.”
“I think she must be recovered, for I saw her strolling at the front of the boat just a moment ago.”
“Alone?” Lily reached for her satchel and pushed her pencils and sketchbook into it.
“No, not alone. She and Lord Rowland were conversing with the Fentons.”
“Then you must excuse me, baronessa.”
“Of course. It was lovely to speak with you.”
The seagull squawked and took wing as Lily rushed past. Her cousin’s quick recovery was suspicious, especially if she was now passing time with Lord Rowland. Bother him. Aunt Mary had decided they all needed to keep a close eye on Isabelle where he was concerned—a task that had fallen solely to Lily the past few days, but it had not been difficult, until now. She recalled James’s words—has a certain reputation with young women—and sped her steps. She would not let that happen to her cousin.
There Isabelle was, standing at the bow, her golden curls tumbled by the wind. She was smiling up at Lord Rowland, who was standing much too close.
“Isabelle!” Lily called. The girl made no response.
“Isabelle,” she said again, coming up. “There you are. Good day, Lord Rowland. My cousin has been ill and should not be out on deck.”
“I thought some air would help clear my head, and Lord Rowland kindly—”
“Yes, well, he will kindly excuse you now. We had better get you back inside. I suspect Aunt Mary is wondering how you are faring.”
At the mention of her mother, Isabelle’s stubborn expression faded. She looked at Lord Rowland. “I’m afraid I should go. It has been delightful.”
He bowed. “The pleasure has been entirely mine.”
Indeed. Lily took a firmer grip on her cousin’s arm and hastened her away. When they were some distance down the deck, Isabelle pulled free. “What has come over you, Lily?”
“I was going to ask you the same. I thought you were indisposed.”
“I felt better. And bored. You know that—”
“Listen to me. Lord Rowland is not proper company for you. There are certain types of gentlemen who do not have your best interest at heart. I fear he is one of them. Promise me you will not spend any more time in his company.”
Isabelle made no response, only hurried ahead to the stairwell. Lily followed and pulled the door firmly shut behind them.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Cadiz, Spain, March 1847
From her seat in the ship’s boat, Lily could smell citrus blossoms and dust in the offshore breeze. The sailors plunged their oars into the sea, pulling briskly toward shore, and a drop of spray wetted her cheek, sudden coolness against her sun-warmed skin. Hills covered in olive and lemon groves held the town with its tall white cathedral in their embrace. Lily gripped her sketchbook. The distant sound of a bell echoed across the water.
“Picturesque, isn’t it?” James had claimed the seat beside her for the ride across the bay. The sea wind ruffled his hair and he looked relaxed, free of the tension he had carried since the voyage began. He grinned at her. It made him look charmingly boyish.
“Yes,” Lily said. “And after a week aboard, I’m more than ready for some time ashore, if only for a few hours.” His mood today caught her off guard. Like the weather, it had brightened.
Not that she had been much in his company. Lily’s eyes went to the lead boat, where Lord Rowland’s darkly elegant form was visible seated beside the baronessa. At least he was in the other boat. She suspected James’s pre
sence had much to do with that, and she was thankful. They were allies in this, at least.
Isabelle must be protected from Lord Rowland. She was too inexperienced to recognize her danger. She could not be allowed to make the same mistake Lily had. She must not.
But Lily knew Isabelle would not respond to ultimatums, so she had made a bargain with her cousin. She would not tell Aunt Mary about finding Isabelle in Lord Rowland’s company, if Isabelle promised not to seek him out. Her cousin had grudgingly agreed, although it did not seem to stop her from focusing her attention on him. Lily noticed that Isabelle had barely taken her eyes off him since the boats had set out. Lily hoped Mrs. Hodges would recover from her seasickness soon. She did not relish playing governess for her cousin, particularly under these circumstances.
“Doesn’t Lieutenant Mundy look as stuffed as his mailbag?” Richard asked, his eyes also on the boat ahead. A sailor behind Lily guffawed.
Mundy, the officer charged with delivering the Royal Mails, sat in the lead boat with his locked leather mailbag. He looked stiff and well polished in his dress uniform. The brass buttons on his coat shone like miniature suns.
“Oh no, he is quite fine,” Isabelle said. Lily wondered just whom she was referring to.
The boats crossed the bay, heading for a broad expanse of beach where a knot of barelegged men waited at the waterline.
“Almost there,” James said. “The gallegos will haul the boats onto shore.”
The lead boat was run up on the sand. Timing his exit to avoid wetting his shoes, Lord Rowland jumped down and hurried up the beach to well above the tide line, leaving the others in his boat behind. He bent and whisked the sand from his trousers.
Their boat followed, heaving through the breakers. The unexpected movement shifted her against James—she felt the long length of his leg pressing against her skirts. He offered a steadying arm, and after fighting for a moment to keep her balance, she took it. He was solid and warm under her hand, and though she knew better, she could not help feeling that she was protected in his company. She did not let go until the gallegos waded into the surf and hauled the boat to shore, then she edged away, smoothing her skirts.
Richard was first out. “How strange to be on land again. The entire shore seems to be rocking.”
“I hope I shan’t appear too clumsy.” Isabelle resettled her bonnet over her blond curls.
“I don’t think you clumsy in the least, Isabelle.” James leapt easily from the boat and offered his hand. Lily tried not to notice his agility, the lean strength of his body. This was not a man who had confined himself to billiards and ballrooms.
“May I assist you, Lily?” he asked, returning to the boat.
She looked at him, his easy grin, the amber lights glinting in his brown eyes. Where was the overbearing, dictatorial man that had so angered her? She felt for the resentment that had been her shield, but could not find it. The warm air, the fragrance of flowers—Spain was working some odd alchemy in her. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to forgive. At least for today.
When she clasped his outstretched hand, the look in his eyes deepened. His grip was strong, steadying her as she rose and stepped from the boat. They stood together on the damp sand, her hand in his. The breeze blew a lock of his hair down over his forehead.
“Lily! James! Watch out,” shouted Uncle Edward from the safety of the dry sand.
A wave frothed whitely up the beach toward them. James reacted instantly. Scooping her up into his arms, he sprinted ahead of the water.
“Oh,” she gasped, clasping his shoulders. He held her firmly against him, his strong arms supporting her. Their faces were close, her lips almost brushing the line of his jaw. He smelled of sun and wind and salt. Her heart pounded in time to his steps as he carried her effortlessly up the shore and set her back on her feet.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I did not mean to take liberties.”
“There is no need.” She found her balance. “It was a narrow escape. It would have been terribly uncomfortable to take in the sights in soggy boots.”
“Most assuredly.”
“And to promenade up the dusty streets with wet skirts…”
“Unthinkable.”
“Then there was really nothing else to be done.”
“Nothing at all.” James offered his arm. “Since we have both escaped unscathed, may I escort you into Cadiz?”
Lily could hardly say she was unscathed. Oh, not touched by the water, but a wave of awareness had surely flooded her. It was hard to tell if he were similarly affected, but there was something in his eyes, in the curve of his lips, that made her think he was. Her pulse jumped as she slipped her hand through the crook of his arm.
They strolled up the sand with the others, past the brightly colored fishing boats, to where the main street descended to the water. Uncle Edward stopped beside a flowering bush and was holding a branch up for inspection.
“Your uncle is glad to be ashore, I see. Not much scope for botanizing shipboard.”
Lily laughed. “You might be surprised. He has directed the sailors to bring him any plant material they find floating on the waves, and I believe he has examined several different types of seaweed so far. Of course, now that we’re on land, I expect we will have to pull him away from every shrub and flower.”
“Hardly a change there,” Richard said, coming up beside them. “I wonder whether we can taste Spanish chocolate here. It is supposed to be a marvelous beverage.”
“Donde esta chocolate?” said Uncle Edward, setting aside his branch. “We’ll ask the first likely vendor.”
“Is your uncle fluent in Spanish?” James asked.
“I think his vocabulary is limited to things that can be eaten.”
They laughed together, and then he sobered. “I was concerned for you when the storm struck. I hope you were not ill.”
“No, thank goodness. Not like so many others, although I admit to existing on tea and crackers.”
“I saw you sketching occasionally.”
“Did you? Well, it would take more than a few waves to keep me from that, and it did take my mind from the rocking of the ship. How did you…” Her words faltered as she felt him go rigid. His eyes were eyes fixed ahead of them.
Lily glanced up to see Isabelle walking with Lord Rowland, her arm entwined with his. The two were far enough ahead of the rest of the group to converse without being overheard, and Lord Rowland was speaking earnestly. Isabelle shot a quick glance back over her shoulder at the following group.
“Oh heavens. I’ve told Isabelle to stay clear of that man. She is acting so foolishly.”
“We need to separate them.” James had quickened his pace.
“Absolutely.” They were in perfect accord about this, at least. “When the opportunity arises, I will attach myself to your cousin for the remainder of the afternoon. You can occupy Isabelle.”
James scowled. “I will not have you…” He stopped himself. “Rather, I would prefer it if you did not keep company with my cousin. I will deal with Reggie myself.”
“And how long until the two of you came to blows? I don’t know what is between you, but it won’t do to be scuffling in the streets.”
He did not speak for a long moment. “It is true that Reggie is provoking, but I don’t like the idea of you strolling about on his arm.”
“Better me than Isabelle. At least I will not be blinded by his flatteries. You said yourself that if any woman was a match for him, I was.”
“Just keep close to the others.”
It was a command, but at least it was a sensible one. Lily decided not to protest. He was, at least, making some progress.
Ahead, Isabelle and Lord Rowland had reached the market, a square surrounded by tall white houses draped in scarlet bougainvillea. Women in black mantillas hurried past carrying their baskets. Vendors lounged behind piles of oranges and lemons, and the briny scent of fish filled the air.
James leaned in and said softly, “We’ll keep
close and watch for our chance.”
Lily nodded. Isabelle and her escort paused here and there, but she clung tightly to his arm, and they did not linger in any one place. At last Isabelle stopped at a table shining with glass-beaded necklaces. She reached out to them, laughing as Lord Rowland took up brilliant blue and bright green strands. He dangled them in either hand, making them dance and sparkle in the sunshine.
“How pretty,” Lily said, releasing James’s arm. She stepped up to the table and ran her fingers over the display.
“Oh, yes.” Isabelle beamed. “Lord Rowland says they sparkle like my eyes.”
“But mere stone and glass could never capture the vibrancy I see. They are but a shallow approximation.” Lord Rowland flashed his toothy smile.
“You are turning my cousin’s head most dreadfully, Lord Rowland.”
“I speak only the truth.” He lifted a thin eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you agree, James?”
“I agree that you are keeping her beauty too much to yourself. Isabelle, do walk with me. We wouldn’t want Reggie to become too dazzled. Perhaps you would enjoy a glass of the fabled Spanish chocolate. The guidebooks recommend it highly.”
Isabelle’s eyes widened and she took a step away from James. “Oh no. It wouldn’t do to leave the marketplace and the other passengers.”
“Isabelle,” Lily said, “He is not going to abscond with you. The café is just there. See? Richard and the baronessa are sitting on the patio. You can go and join them.”
“I would hate to deprive Lord Rowland—”
Lily threaded her arm through Lord Rowland’s. “I will accompany him. Go enjoy your chocolate.”
“Very well.” Isabelle turned to him. “I hope I will see you soon, my lord.”
“As do I. Before you go, won’t you take this trifle to remember Spain by?” He held out the blue necklace.
“Thank you, my lord.” Isabelle took the necklace and curtsied. Then she turned, and without taking James’s offered arm, set off across the plaza toward the café.
“I seem to have been outmaneuvered,” said Lord Rowland as he watched Isabelle go, James close behind her. “Would you care to see the sights with me, Miss Lily?”
Fortune's Flower (Passport to Romance Book 1) Page 13