Heir To The Sea

by Danelle Harmon

  Kieran is not James.

  No, he’s not. But you were made to look the fool once by a man’s declarations of love and hollow words. It could happen again….

  The miles fell behind them. The air grew more humid, the color of the sea changed, and the winds blowing off the distant land began to smell like home.

  They spotted a Royal Navy frigate on patrol just south of the Chesapeake Capes and bore away to windward until the big warship was well astern of them. It had been an easy matter to douse the lights and slip past her once darkness fell, moving silently into the mighty bay with the British none the wiser.

  The wind abated as they moved farther into the Chesapeake. Kieran kept one hand on the tiller and leaned far to larboard, trying to see out into the darkness ahead of them. In the bows, Rosalie peered into the night, calling back directions so they wouldn’t run down another ship in the darkness. Nearby, the McKay brothers shared a pipe, the scent of tobacco drifting lazily on what little breeze remained. The rising half-moon fell behind a cloud and above, the topsail sagged on its yard until the wind finally died altogether. The tide turned, and Kieran called for the anchor to be dropped for the night in a cove just south of Annapolis.

  This was it, then.

  Home.

  Tomorrow she would see her family, enjoy a long bath, a proper meal, and a sleep in her own bed.

  Tomorrow, her adventure would be over.

  Tomorrow, unless she guessed wrongly, Kieran Merrick would sail away and the brief flirtation they had enjoyed would live on only in her memory.

  * * *

  She went below to the stern cabin, intending to pack up her things in preparation for leaving the ship tomorrow. It would be a short task given that she’d never needed to open most of the trunks.

  One still stood open after she’d last rummaged in it. There was that old black tricorn hat she’d fished from the sea, smelling of the deep, battered by the sea and hazed, still, with dried salt. She looked at it for a long time, wondering, really, why she’d kept it. Why she still kept it. Whatever luck it had brought had served them well. They were home, safe and sound.

  Perhaps it was time to return it to the sea from which it had come.

  Tomorrow, perhaps. Tonight, she just felt sad. She pushed the lid of the trunk shut so she wouldn’t see the hat and climbed into the bunk.

  “I will miss you, Kieran Merrick,” she whispered as she gazed up at the lantern glowing above her head, and the hot prickle of tears burned unexpectedly against her sinuses.

  Around her, the sloop pulled at her cable in the outgoing tide. It was a soothing sensation after being so long at sea, one that invited rest, as Sandpiper herself was doing. Rosalie reached down for the light quilt that lay folded at her feet, pulled it up over herself and pressed a corner of it to her face. It smelled faintly of Kieran and the ache in her heart grew piercing. She bunched it up, wrapping her arms around it and holding it against her cheek as she stared up into the dimly lit gloom. She had left Baltimore all but ruined, certainly scorned, definitely humiliated. She had not intended to find healing, only distraction in her time away in the Caribbean. She had not expected to have her head turned and her heart claimed by a quiet, somewhat shy New Englander who looked like a poet but fought like a warrior.

  She stared into the gloom around her, consigning the little cabin to memory. The spare furnishings reflecting his tastes. The table with its lap desk, a braided rug on the decking, and on the bulkhead, a painting of a topsail schooner whose raked masts and sleek lines were reminiscent of Sandpiper herself. A sea chest with the initials KTM etched into the lock’s metal plate, leaving her to wonder, idly, what the “T” stood for. She lay there, the lantern swinging in the darkness above and throwing light and shadows that went back and forth, back and forth, timelessly rocking to the motion of the ship.

  Sleep evaded her. She tossed and turned. Time passed, and she wondered what the hour was. And then, from somewhere topside, she heard what sounded like—

  Could that possibly be…a violin?

  She sat up, listening. The mournful, haunting notes tugged at her heartstrings, pulled at something deep inside her that she could not put words to. Emotion rose in her throat, and she blinked away the tears. Back and forth, back and forth went the lantern above, and at last Rosalie could stand it no longer. She rose, drew on a light jacket and the pantaloons, and popping a piece of horehound into her mouth from the stash in one of her trunks, went quietly topside.

  She emerged under an inverted bowl of a thousand stars, ten thousand stars, all pricking through the black canopy of the night sky, converging into the hazy river that was the Milky Way and lending an ethereal quality to the night. The deck glowed silver. The surface of the bay shone pewter. And there, the instrument all but sobbing its heart out in his unexpectedly talented hands, was Kieran himself.

  He stood leaning against the transom. For a long moment she remained watching him, not moving. Watching the faint breeze blowing his haphazard curls around his face. Watching the grace, elegance and surety with which he moved his arm, his wrist, to coax the instrument to speak for his very soul.

  His words, so casually spoken, came back to her. I have nobody.

  And suddenly the image of that old black hat filled her mind, and she wondered if it had not only brought the wind that day, but Kieran Merrick…to do more than just save her life, but her very soul. In that moment, she felt a sudden and fierce protectiveness of him, an overwhelming need to be with him, not just now but for the rest of her life.

  The music had stopped. He had seen her. Of course he had. Kieran missed nothing.

  He straightened up and lowered the instrument. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “I wasn’t sleeping.”

  “Probably can’t now, anyhow,” he murmured, somewhat ruefully.

  “No, on the contrary. You are very good.”

  “Thank you.” And then: “Do you play?”

  “Not the violin. A pianoforte, yes. And I’m told I’ve got a passably good voice, though that’s open for debate, I think.” She reached out and touched the violin, this sleek creation of wood that expressed for him what words could not. “You are a man of many talents, Kieran.”

  “It’s just a cheap old thing. The salt air…it’s not good for such a fine instrument. But there are times when I just can’t help myself.” He shrugged. “Tonight is one of them.”

  She moved to stand beside him. Only inches separated them, and she was aware of the ache that filled those few inches. A pulling, a current, a drawing-in toward each other. His eyes were dark and solemn in the faint light, and she yearned to reach up and touch the healing gash on the point of his cheek.

  “And what are you thinking, Captain, that makes you so sad, tonight?”

  “Of tomorrow.”

  “I see.” She poked at a deck seam with her toe. “I will miss you, Kieran Merrick.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “I will miss you too, Rosalie McCormack.”

  He stood there, still holding the violin. Those few inches between them became almost unbearable.

  Silence, awkward and expectant. It was all she could do not to sway toward him.

  “Are you eager to get home to Newburyport?”

  “No.” He paused for a long moment. “There’s not much to go back to, really.”

  He said nothing more. Around them, the smells of the great Chesapeake pressed, mud flats and salt brine on the breeze. The lights of Annapolis, twinkling in the distance.

  Home.

  “Do you know, Rosalie…there is something that has been weighing much on my mind. Something that needs to be said.”

  She tensed, both hopeful and anxious at the same time.

  He bent down and gently placed the violin in the case that lay on the deck near his feet. He closed the lid, taking his time, and when he spoke his voice was smooth and deep, finding its way into every chamber of her heart and warming it from the inside out. “I must confess t
hat when I first met you I found you impossibly…noisy,” he said. “Overwhelming.”

  “I’m always overly chatty when I’m frightened or feeling threatened. It was all nervousness.”

  “What were you nervous about? I believe I’m quite harmless.”

  “When you came into that cabin, I had no idea who you were or whether or not you were, indeed, harmless. I had every right to be concerned.”

  “And are you concerned, now?”

  “Should I be?”

  His smile was fleeting. “I remain perfectly harmless.”

  “I’ve seen you in action, Captain. You’re far from harmless.”

  “I thought we’d agreed to call each other by our Christian names.”

  “So we did,” she said. “Keer-in.”

  He remained looking out at the lights of Annapolis but she sensed he wasn’t really seeing them, and he did not respond to her saucy attempt at humor. Finally, he turned to face her. “Our time together will soon come to an end, Rosalie.” He said nothing for a long moment and when he spoke, she sensed that his words were carefully chosen, perhaps even rehearsed over and over in his mind. In the darkness, he found her hands. “You asked what I was thinking. And what I’m thinking, Rosalie, is that I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I don’t act on the feelings that have grown in me since we first met. Feelings that can no longer be denied.”

  “Oh, Kieran, I am no prize. You’ll forget me once you get underway and headed for home.”

  “No, I will not. I will never forget you, Rosalie, nor do I wish to.” His eyes were solemn as he gazed down at her, squeezing her hands. “You are the best and most beautiful thing that has ever happened to me.”

  “But surely you must think me terribly forward, confusing, brash—”

  His lips curved in amusement at her sudden rush to fill the space with words. “With all due respect, Rosalie, you don’t know what I think of you, and for that, I’m most sorry. I am not very demonstrative, I’m afraid.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “That I would like to ask your father for permission to court you.”

  Joy warred with a sudden protectiveness of him. “I am not without my secrets and flaws, Kieran. I won’t lie to you. I left Baltimore amidst a flurry of gossip after ending my betrothal with James. Those same cruel tongues will be wagging anew if I return with a new suitor, someone who is almost a stranger. We’ll be judged most unfairly. I don’t want you to be pitied, scorned, or laughed at.”

  “You never struck me as a woman who cared much about what others thought, Rosalie.”

  “And you don’t care?”

  “To be fair, I don’t live here. I can sail away.”

  She bit her lip, wondering if she should tell him about James…and what they had done.

  “And so can you,” he added gently.

  He bent his head, resting his lips on her forehead and it was all she could do not to crawl into his embrace, to throw off all her self-doubts and the memory of her own shame, to just lose herself in his arms and forget she’d ever had a life before she’d met him. But was it fair to him to subject him to such ridicule? And how could she ever tell him that she and James had—

  It’s not like you’re marrying him. He’s just asking to court you, nothing more. He doesn’t need to know.

  He misinterpreted her temporary silence as she debated within herself and tried to find words. And then he straightened up and took a step backward, setting her at arms’ length. “My apologies, Rosalie. I fear I have offended you, with my stated intentions. Perhaps I read more into our…our friendship, than there actually is.”

  “I should think people who share a kiss—”

  “Several kisses.”

  “—are more than friends.” Rosalie stepped back into the distance he had put between them. “You are an enigma, Kieran Merrick. So very brave and bold in all the ways that most males try and fail to be, but when it comes to women, you’re…well, shy. And I find it most endearing.”

  She saw his helpless smile. “I’ll confess to the shyness. But only with women whom I rather fancy.”

  “So then.”

  “So, then.”

  “Are you going to kiss me, Captain Merrick?”

  His smile spread. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “And I thought—”

  “Stop thinking,” he said, and before she knew what he was doing, he’d pulled her roughly up against himself, all but crushing her to his body as his mouth came down hard against hers with a fierce desperation that belied his quiet calm. She melted into him. Sighed as he grazed her cheek with his knuckles, slid his hand up and through her hair, thumbed the hollow beneath her cheekbone. Her knees trembled and went weak and then there was only Kieran, his warmth and familiarity and the hungry response of her body. She felt his hand at the small of her back, drawing her closer to him, and of its own accord her pelvis pressed against his and found him hard and eager.

  You are the best and most beautiful thing that has ever happened to me.

  Her heart sang with joy and relief. She reached up and locked her arms around his neck, clinging to him as if she’d never let him go. Neither of them saw a shooting star streak across the heavens above Sandpiper’s topsail yard. Neither of them saw the lookout high above in the crosstrees pretending not to notice them. And neither of them saw Liam Doherty start to come topside, pause at sight of the two figures locked in an impassioned embrace, and with a pleased little chuckle, quietly back down the ladder and return below instead.

  Chapter 20

  Kieran felt the exact moment she melted against him.

  He felt the sweet lushness of her mouth, heard the breathy little noises she made as she sank further into the kiss, felt her fingers in his hair, her hand cupping the back of his head, the tantalizing press of her full, generous breasts against his ribs. She tasted like candy and felt like heaven. He wanted to devour her, to lay her down on the deck, to kiss and nibble and lick every inch of her soft, sweet skin and touch her in places he could only imagine.

  But he did not.

  She was a fine young woman, and she deserved better than to be taken like a common strumpet.

  And so, reluctantly, Kieran put his hands on her shoulders and broke the kiss, gently coaxing her up against him and holding her close. He rested his chin against the crown of her head, trying to control his breathing, hearing his heart thundering in his ears and hoping she didn’t notice the hard swelling that his trousers, stretched agonizingly tight across it, fought to contain.

  “Rosalie,” he began, his voice sounding hoarse to his own ears.

  She took a deep, shuddering breath and lifting a hand, placed it against his galloping heart. “Kieran.”

  He did not know what to say. It was a moment that demanded he say nothing at all, and he was afraid to ruin it by uttering something that might come out sounding foolish, trite, or trivial in light of the colossal importance of what they’d just shared. But she was waiting for him to say something. Anything. He could sense it. Oh, why was he so tongue-tied around her, so—what was the word she’d used?—shy?

  “I may not have remembered much about that first kiss, but that one…that one, I will never forget.” He gazed down at her, his heart in his eyes, feeling like everything inside of him was either going to explode or shatter despite the evenness of his words. Emotion surged through him, sudden and unexpected. Why did it feel as if something indescribably huge and life-changing had just happened to him?

  It was only a kiss.

  But it hadn’t been. It had been so, so much more.

  She pulled away to look up at him, her freckled face earnest and hopeful in the darkness. Tenderly, he reached out and touched her cheek, finding it petal-soft beneath his fingers. He passed his thumb over it, once. Twice. She closed her eyes and leaned the side of her face into his hand.

  “So where do we go from here?” she murmured.

  He smiled. “I guess I’ll be visiting Balt
imore for a while.”

  “Oh, Kieran, I would love that. You said yourself you’re in no hurry to get home so why not stay with us, sleep in a soft bed, eat some good food, relax for a bit? You need to rebuild your crew, don’t you? Why not recruit some men in Baltimore? In the meantime, my family would enjoy meeting you, and I know they’d wish to thank you in person for delivering Stephen and me safely home.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, considering.

  “Liam and Joel are welcome, too,” she said hastily.

  “I would like to shield you from malicious gossip, Rosalie. It might be better for me to stay aboard Sandpiper.”

  “Nonsense. You saved our lives, you have every right to stay with us as my father’s guest, so do so. Catch your breath. Visit our shipyards, see the sort of vessels we’re turning out in Fells Point, eat some crab and allow yourself a bit of fun. When is the last time you danced, Kieran?”

  “Danced?” he asked, brows raised.

  “You do dance, don’t you?”

  “Well, actually…um….”

  “You don’t dance.”

  “As you noted, Rosalie, I’m…shy. God, I dislike that word. It is so…unmanly.”

  “But you don’t dance.”

  “There was only one young woman I ever cared about, and I was young and didn’t have the courage to ask her. And if I don’t have any sort of romantic inclinations toward a woman, I’m certainly not going to ask her to dance as that would give her the wrong idea about my intentions, and that is simply unfair to her, as well as unkind.”

  “So you don’t dance.” It was the third time she’d stated what was increasingly obvious.

  He sighed and wiped a hand down his face, and when he looked at her, he couldn’t help the amused defeat in his eyes. “No. I don’t dance.”

  “But would you dance with me?”

  “I suppose I could be persuaded….”

  “Very well, then,” she said with a saucy little grin, “I guess you’re going to have to spend some time with us in Baltimore, Captain, because I have just asked you for a dance. And it would be less than gentlemanly if you refused.”