The Captain's Surrender (Currents of Love Book 6)

by Emilee Harris

  Bereft without the neutralizing presence of Lily at his side, his eyes once again took up scanning the room for Lenore. Surely her dance had ended by now.

  “Ye must tell us ay yer experiences at sea, Captain,” one of the young men encircling him insisted.

  “Och aye,” another added eagerly.

  “How many battles were ye in?” A third asked. “Ah wager it must’ve been excitin’, though perhaps rather duller than anythin’ given how frightfully outmatched th’ French were.” A round of chuckles and nods followed.

  Where the man came by this information, Daniel hadn’t a clue. From his standpoint on the deck of his ship, shouting orders until his voice went hoarse and maneuvering desperately to avoid getting shot to shreds, the French proved formidable enough.

  “Just a shame we weren’t able tae join in,” the whelp continued. “We would’ve been right there by yer side had we nae been off tae school.” Again, his companions nodded.

  You would have been cowering in a corner lamenting having ever left your mother’s sitting room, Daniel thought, irrational anger igniting in him. Too late he realized the error of his thoughts. A spinning started in his head, the room shrinking around him and the obnoxious prattle of the circle of young men around him rising to a deafening buzz. An indistinct continuous noise like the droning of sparring cannons.

  An image flashed across his mind, a young boy no more than ten years old, face covered in tear-streaked soot as he cowered under the steps to the helm. The officers at the cannons shouted for him, the powder monkey who’s first trip to sea proved far different from what he imagined. Daniel looked away, but the boy had already been spotted by one of the lieutenants. The man grabbed him by the collar and tossed him into the fray of the open deck, admonishing him for abandoning his duties. The boy scurried toward the first cannon with his powder horn, but not fast enough. A window cleared in the smoke; the French sniper took aim...

  “There ye are, Captain Langdon,” Lenore’s voice shook him out of his reverie. The din of the hall returned to stab at his ears, he noted the clamminess of his brow, the slither of a cold bead of sweat down his back, and turned, blinking, toward that angelic voice as he attempted to calm his breathing.

  Lenore smiled brightly as she took his arm, but her eyes shone with concern. “Ah know I’ve promised ye th’ next dance, but Aam afraid ‘at last overheated me. Would ye mind escortin’ me through th’ garden fur a breath ay fresh air?”

  “Not at all,” he asserted, thankful for her miraculous appearance and swift thinking. Arm in arm, he let her set a measured pace. Focusing on the French doors leading to the gardens, he didn’t dare look to either side and clung to her as though his life depended on it.

  The cool air washed over them, bringing with it a distinct perfume of heather, thistle, and Scots bluebells, a combination of earthy musk and sweetness. Within moments, Lenore felt the easing of Daniel’s muscles beneath her hand. She’d noted the look of unease on his features from across the room as she made her way back to where he stood with Aunt Lily. He stood so stiff a breeze might have snapped him in two. Hurrying to his side like a moth drawn to a flame, she needed to find a way to console him. Not knowing what it was that bothered him, she hoped a general invasion of the crowd might do well to ease him. She let out a breath of satisfaction as she felt him relax.

  “You have impeccable timing,” he noted. “I don’t think I could’ve stood another minute surrounded by those whelps. I know I’m not that much older than them, but it feels like quite a difference.”

  “Ye ne’er were a dandy,” Lenore observed. “An’ life has a way ay aging those who live it a bit more than those who dinnae.”

  “Are you calling me old?” He quipped, a hint of laughter in his voice.

  “Let’s call it mature,” she smiled.

  “Now that’s a word I never thought you would choose to describe any Langdon brother.”

  “Very well, then, ye are old.”

  “I suppose I deserve that. However, as it still provides a better description of me than anything I could come up with, I won’t argue.”

  “And how would ye describe yerself?” Lenore asked, careful to keep her tone light. They wandered the gardens within sight of the house and the glow of the evening event, but at far enough a distance to ensure a private conversation.

  “Not suitable for company,” he responded bitterly.

  “Ah think your assessment is too general.”

  “No, rather too precise.”

  They came to a small bench which Daniel gestured to with a half-smile and a wave of his gloved hand. “I appreciate you and Lily,” he began. “I admit life is far easier for me here, but what’s the purpose? I can’t hide here forever, and I have become a burden to those around me.”

  “Aam sure they would argue ‘at.”

  “I’m sure they would as well, but that doesn’t make it any less the truth.”

  A stalemate ensued as Lenore struggled to find her next words.

  “It’s—” Daniel found his voice first but appeared to question the words fighting for acknowledgment. “I keep thinking it might all be bearable if those around me might at least accept something’s changed.” He shook his head. “They insist nothing has, and worse than that, have managed to create some kind of idealized memory of me even more difficult to live up to than the past reality. They act as though I was bright and jovial once. As I recall, I took on a deliberate, gloomy countenance from my nursery days.”

  Lenore chewed on her lip, unsure if she ought to proceed with seriousness or humor in her effort to comfort him. Deciding to favor her more natural sarcasm as the best middle ground, she offered, “Ne’er fear, Captain Langdon. “Tae me, ye shall always be th’ same pompous backend you’ve always been.”

  That sent Daniel into a fit of laughter, and he had to exert himself to dampen his enthusiasm after another garden-wandering couple looked at them askance. “You have no idea, Miss. MacAllister, how that consoles me.”

  Lenore giggled in turn, letting her amusement fade into her memories. “It’s nae entirely true, ye ken,” she mused.

  “What?”

  “Ye werenae always sae brooding.”

  “Exactly my point,” he straightened in accusation. “The tendency heightened in recent years, but it’s not new, yet the world around me insists otherwise.”

  “Nae, Ah dinnae mean in recent years,” she clarified. “Ye were always th’ more serious ay yer siblings, but ‘at’s tae be expected ay th’ eldest son, isnae it? Yer parents may nae hae actively differentiated between ye an’ yer brothers in importance, but all ay ye understood th’ greatest mantle ay responsibility fell on ye. Ye took on ‘at mantle quite young.” She gazed out over the flowerbeds, eyes drawn toward the sparkling stars. The night surrounded them in exceptional clarity tonight, a clear sky and still landscape giving the feel of time standing still.

  “But Ah remember,” she continued, “a little boy, ages older an’ wiser than me,” she lightened her observation with a teasing roll of her eyes, “Who took th’ time tae sit wi’ me an’ listen tae me prattle on about th’ new dress mother made fur mah doll when Gavin abandoned me tae mah own devices.”

  She risked a sly glance in his direction under her lashes, her heart skipping a beat when she noticed a small smile playing across his lips. “Or walking me home after a visit tae yer sisters when ye happened across me on th’ path.”

  “Any aspiring gentleman would have done the same,” he countered.

  “Mah brother didn’t,” she huffed. “Which is why ye came across me wandering home alone in th’ first place. Th’ scoundrel dodged off tae town wi’ James an’ threatened tae destroy all th’ work I’d done on mah needlework ‘at week if Ah dared mention it tae mother.”

  A chuckle sounded beside her, sending a pleasant wave of goosebumps over her arms.

  “A young teenager experiences difficulty equating the necessity of good manners to his siblings. I merely held the advant
age of having previously made the association.”

  “Fur heaven’s sake, Daniel,” she sighed. “If ye insist on countering every compliment Ah attempt tae give ye Ah shall retract mah statements an’ attest ‘at all mah good opinions ay ye must hae been imagined in a dream.”

  “They most certainly were, I’ll offer agreement to that.”

  With a small shake of her head, Lenore pressed her lips together and turned her attention away from Daniel. Stubborn man. Very well, at least he appeared calmer than earlier. They could return to the ballroom and find Aunt Lily. About to suggest the change, she hesitated when Daniel spoke up beside her, his voice an uncertain whisper.

  “Even so, there’s something consoling and optimistic in dreams. I had them once too.”

  The gentle longing in his words pulled at Lenore’s heart, insisting she return her attention to the man seated beside her. “What did ye dream of—?” Her words caught in her throat as she pivoted in his direction, lifting her gaze to find his intent upon her, something mournful glinting with the moonlight in those lovely eyes.

  All the air evaporated from her lungs as he leaned in toward her. She wondered if she were dreaming now, allowing her innermost desires for a beautiful evening to overtake her disappointing reality. Dreaming or not, the moment his lips met and warmed hers, she no longer cared.

  A gentle touch, it nevertheless conveyed notes of sorrow and hunger, of a search extending beyond the delectable invasion of her physical boundaries. Warm fingertips skimmed her jaw, leading the way for his palm to rest at her cheek. She sighed, leaning into him and sliding her gloved hand over his coat to rest over the steady beat of his heart. Her body warmed, reaching for him, wanting to fulfill the unnamed need in his tentative touch. But before she could lend courage to her heart’s desires, he pulled away, blinking.

  “Forgive me,” he whispered.

  “There’s nothin’ tae forgive,” Lenore attempted a show of worldly confidence, but her heart cried out at the unexpected rejection so close on the heels of his sudden interest.

  “Of course, there is,” he shook his head at her denial. “I have no right to behave this way and jeopardize your good opinion of myself or my family.”

  “Ah huvnae disapproved ay yer behavior...” she hazarded, unable to meet his gaze, her aunt’s words earlier in the evening coming back to haunt her. Only a few hours old and already forgotten.

  “You should,” he chastised. “It’s reprehensible.”

  “Reprehensible?” Anger sprang to life in Lenore’s breast, fanned to flame by the ache of her disappointment in both the moment and herself. “Are ye searchin’ fur a diversion, then? Somethin’ tae while away th’ time during yer Scottish exile?”

  His eyes widened. “Certainly not. I would never—”

  “But ye hae.” Tears pricked at her eyes as she worked to keep her tone a decibel or two below that of hysteria. “If yer intent is nae honorable, what is th’ alternative?”

  His mouth bobbed and the color drained from his face. A pang of guilt surfaced for the span of a heartbeat before she stomped it thoroughly back into the recesses from whence it came. She refused to overlook her own sense of insult in what Daniel had said. If he found the idea of kissing her so barbaric and repulsive, he needn’t have repeated the action. Lily tasked her with being understanding and considerate of his struggles, but she’d not relinquished any responsibility to her own wellbeing.

  “Out wi’ it, then,” she demanded, standing and turning to direct the full force of her affronted glare at him. “What dae ye mean by kissin’ me?”

  “I—” he faltered.

  Crossing her arms in front of her, she ground her teeth, watching with mounting ire as Daniel swallowed, eyes darting in every direction in search of an escape. “Well?”

  He closed his eyes, brows pulling together in a pained expression before issuing his near-silent response. “I don’t know.”

  Lenore swayed but caught herself. “Ye dinnae ken?” She repeated in a bland whisper, her jaw dropping open. She snapped it shut again as a churning began in her stomach, accentuated by a heavy pressure surrounding her lungs. Her vision blurred and the last of her courage dissipated. She bolted, unseeing, in the direction of the ballroom, hoping the cool night air might dry the tears spilling over onto her cheeks before she arrived.

  “Lenore!”

  She ignored Daniel’s concerned call. With every step her embarrassment grew. Embarrassment at having allowed childish sentiment to lead her into this. Well, she’d learned her lesson. They’d found what they needed at the archives; Lily could now play hostess to their guest. Lenore had more important concerns to see to.

  Halting a few steps shy of the doors leading to the ballroom, she took a breath, swiped at her cheeks, and pulled back her shoulders. Ignoring the urge to look over her shoulder, she lifted her chin and marched into the crowd.

  Chapter 9

  Daniel watched Lenore fly away, the sight of tears welling in her eyes in the moonlight etched into his soul and promising lifelong torment. Sighing, he shut his eyes against the searing guilt which the sight ignited, its intensity magnifying exponentially with the widening distance between them.

  “I don’t know,” he spat back at himself. He knew full well what he meant in kissing her, and it entailed far more than a diversion. Holding Lenore in his arms equated to life itself, as much a necessity of his being as breathing or eating. When exactly her nearness became so paramount, he couldn’t pinpoint, but he knew their first shared kiss in the clerk’s office served to awaken his senses to her importance.

  There were many things he didn’t know. He didn’t know how he could possibly offer Lenore the permanence his actions dictated and his heart required, not with his moods so unpredictable and his behavior so erratic. He didn’t know how to envision his life without Lenore in it now that the blindfold of his self-delusion had been removed. She had always been a fixture in his family home; so long now he had to exert effort to remember the days before she and her brother arrived in Hampshire. Now that he thought about it, he realized her presence always incited a sense of calm and anticipation in him.

  A small laugh bubbled up into his throat, squelched by brute force of will but still escaping in a nasal huff. Calm and anticipation rarely shared sentence space with descriptions of Lenore, better known for her shows of temper and a distinctly unladylike proclivity toward raising her voice to the level of a howling banshee. Daniel smiled. These shows of emotion invigorated him, they always had. Fashion of the day dictated a kind of sterile calm and collectedness he found counterintuitive and misleading. Perhaps that’s why he appreciated the sea so much. The sea never pretended to a false calm. She spoke her mind, railing with deadly ire one moment, calm and seductive the next. Lenore reminded him of the sea.

  The crunch of gravel on the walkway behind him snapped him instantly alert and sent him whirling about, heart pounding and fists raised against the world.

  “Steady there, Langdon,” an unpleasantly familiar voice quipped. From out of the shadows stepped Tyrsdale, hands up in mock surrender and a lopsided grin on his face gleaming with as much friendliness as the bared fangs of a rabid dog. “A bit of a lovers spat?” He arched an eyebrow and nodded toward the doors through which Lenore had disappeared.

  “Is there something I can help you with?” Daniel growled, straightening his stance and lowering his hands to his sides. His heart still stuttered erratically in his chest, but at least he had the distraction of his dislike for this man to help him refocus. He wondered how long Tyrsdale had been lurking about. He wouldn’t put it past the man to send rumors flying. Thankful for the ruse of their engagement, Daniel hoped at least any rumors would prove teasing or playful rather than scandalous and harmful. Either way, Lenore’s reputation would suffer the most damage, not his. If that came to pass, he would ensure Tyrsdale felt the error of his ways.

  “Oh no, nothing at all. I just decided to take a bit of air as I found the crush inside a bit
overwhelming, but you can understand that I’m sure.” Tyrsdale pursed his lips, examining the nails of one hand.

  The allusion rang loudly, but Daniel refused to acknowledge it. Instead, he forced himself to give a relatively polite nod, then turned toward the house.

  “I find your friend the Admiral quite amusing,” Tyrsdale called out after him, causing Daniel to halt, but he only acknowledged the statement with a slight turn of his head in the man’s direction.

  Laughter and music spilled out into the gardens from the doorway and windows, the thought of getting lost within the suffocating confines of the crowd suddenly far more appealing than remaining to discover what Tyrsdale intended with his line of conversation. A sense of foreboding crept its way up along Daniel’s arms, but he stood rooted despite his intent to continue walking.

  “He’s quite enthusiastic about you,” Tyrsdale continued, taking the opportunity to advance a few steps in Daniel’s direction, though remaining outside of arm’s reach. “He mentioned the two of you having served together back in your early days in the Navy, when he was still a captain. Quite impressed by you from the sounds of it.”

  “As you may expect, I already know this history,” Daniel responded, irritation at his own uneasiness strengthening the ferocity of his tone. “Is there some reason you’re sharing it with me?” He gave up his fruitless pining for the crowd beyond the door still a few yards off and pivoted to glare at Tyrsdale.

  “Yes, I suppose you would. Terribly sorry. But I’m curious and would rather direct my curiosity at the man himself, rather than check with the Admiral.” He paused in his show of disinterest to ensure he had captured Daniel’s attention. “It’s a shame we had to miss our reunion the other day, I would have enjoyed hearing the stories from you personally.”

  “I’m in no mood to stand here and recite nursery stories to you, Tyrsdale,” Daniel declared. “If you have a question, stop beating about the bush and have out with it.” A light breeze wafted by, the scent of floral moors floating along with it. It might soothe under normal circumstances, but at the moment it only served to cool the renewed perspiration along Daniel’s brow, making him aware of it and causing him to shiver. The scent itself, so alluring when it surrounded Lenore, took on a sickening pungency in present company.