“Well, I don’t wish to spend the whole day shopping. I just need to pick up a few things to bring to Montserrat. Gifts for loved ones. After that, your debt is paid.”
At the mention of her coming trip, she saw a shadow come into his eyes, the faintest tightening of his mouth.
He cared, then. She could see the war he was waging within himself, playing out over his face like wind across the surface of the sea.
“So not just shopping, then.”
“No.”
“What else would you like to do?”
“I could show you a bit of Baltimore. We could take a walk. Or go for a sail.”
He lowered the roll he’d been about to bite into, both brows raised in surprised delight. “You like boats?”
“Of course I like boats. Ours is a seafaring family and yes, I do know how to sail so don’t even bother asking if I possess that particular skill.” She ate the last bite of her roll and licked away a bit of butter that clung to her top lip, seeing his eyes darken at her casual gesture. “However, I don’t have a boat.” She slanted him a grin. “But you do.”
“Sandpiper.”
“Yes, and we’d have to commandeer Kieran and Rosalie and maybe even Stephen to help sail her, and given the fact they’re all conniving to get us together, I don’t want them watching every move we make, whispering and elbowing each other and hanging on our every word and action.”
“Aye, ’tis maddening, ain’t it?”
“They treat us like we are ... like we are....”
“Children.”
“Yes! I think they’re all quite amused by what they see is our great romance. And far more involved than any of them ought to be.”
He paled somewhat. “Are they?”
She snorted. “God, I hope not!”
Dabbing her mouth with her napkin, she folded it neatly and left it on the tray. She looked up to find him watching her, his eyes merry, the old Liam she’d known when he’d been here last summer, the one that made no promises and offered no explanations. No complications, just himself, his good humor, his happy spirit. He rose and extended a hand. She took it, allowing him to raise her to her feet.
Together, hand in hand, they left the parlor and pausing only long enough for Annis to gather her cloak against the cool November breeze, went outside.
Chapter 8
Liam couldn’t have been prouder to have such a grand woman on his arm, and he knew it showed in his swinging stride, his beaming smile, the way he carried himself as the two strolled toward the waterfront. Funny how a spirited, good-looking lass could make you forget your aches and pains, put a spring in your step like you were a young lad again, and fill your head with all kinds of romantic nonsense better suited to someone of Callie’s and Pepper’s age than a man of his years.
The hell with it.
He was happy, and there was no shame in that.
And she understood him. Or at least he believed she did, and accepted him as he was complete with his limitations even if she might have wanted more—and he was not naive enough to think that she didn’t. She had seen right through his excuses, that his promise to Brendan kept him from settling down, stripped him bare and set him right back on his feet again with frank honesty and acceptance. She was the kind of woman he could be at ease with, one who made no demands of him, and Liam liked that. There’d been no talk of expectations, obligations, or commitments. There’d been no talk of a future or even whether there was one. The only shadow on the day had been her reminder that she was going to Montserrat.
Don’t think about that. Not now. It was the perfect morning, and out here in the waning autumn sun, the day stretching before them, he wasn’t about to let anything ruin it. He was here in Baltimore, she was on his arm, and they were together.
The day needed nothing beyond that.
They made their way through the streets of Fells Point and to the waterfront. Even here in the protected narrow harbor, the water was hard and blue and curling with whitecaps, the swells pushed along by the brisk wind. Against the backdrop of Federal Hill, Sandpiper lay on her cable out with the other moored vessels, rocking a bit in the swells, her one raked mask throwing a shadow across her deck. She tugged at her mooring like a racehorse begging to be set free from the starting line.
“Windy day out there,” he said, eying Annis’s gown in concern where the wind molded it around her calves, hinting at their fine shape.
Don’t think about those calves, and how pretty they must be.
Don’t think about how much you’d like to run your hand down that curve, and to the shapely ankle just beneath.
“I have my cloak.”
“Salt water’ll ruin such a fine garment should you get splashed.”
“The devil take my garment,” she said with a dismissive wave. “I’m just thinking of the logistics of sailing that sloop with only the two of us.”
“Well, we don’t need Sandpiper. Her boat is moored at the pier.”
“Is it rigged for sail?”
“No, but it sports a handy pair of oars.”
“It’ll be a tough row out there with those swells.”
“D’ye think me not up the task, Annis?”
She eyed his big, brawny arms, smiled, and playfully touched one through his sleeve. “I do believe, sir, that you could row us to your precious Newburyport and back if you wanted to.”
Liam’s heart sang and he laughed.
“In any case,” she continued brightly, “I wasn’t thinking of my skirts, and the amount of water that will end up in the boat should we undertake such a venture.” She cut her gaze to the left and lowered her voice. “I’m thinking of the fact that your nephew and mine are standing together on that pier over there, no doubt having discreetly followed us here, or having been assigned to follow us by the ladies, and being out on a boat together will provide a stage for all to see.” Liam followed her gaze. Sure enough, there was Kieran, who raised a hand in greeting and went back to conversing with Stephen. “Because if those two are here, I’ve a feeling that the others are not far away.”
Liam nodded sagely, seeing her point. “I don’t feel like being watched,” he allowed.
“And neither do I.”
“Though Kieran’s not the sort to match-make,” he said, glancing at the younger man’s tall, lean frame in the near distance, the wind blowing the glossy dark curls around his face as he took off his hat and then replaced it in casual greeting to someone on shore before engaging in conversation once more with Stephen.
“Maybe not, but Rosalie certainly is.”
“Aye, and given that he just signaled to someone on shore, I’m guessing she’s nearby.”
But Liam also knew that if Kieran wanted anything to be secret, he wouldn’t have made such a blatant acknowledgement of someone else’s presence as he had just done. He grinned. Knowing Kieran, the younger man was signaling him that there were more players here than met the eye. Warning him, in the only way he possibly could without coming under censure himself.
After all, while women might gaggle together under a common aim, men had their own loyalties.
“Do you feel like a butterfly under a magnifying glass?” he asked.
“Goldfish in a bowl, more like.”
“Then let’s take that walk ye suggested earlier. It may be a glorious day, but I fancy some privacy.”
He offered his arm, and the two of them turned and retreated down the pier, through the mariners loading casks and crates onto a waiting schooner, past the dock workers and merchants and pursers and into the milling crowd, where it was almost impossible to be followed.
* * *
“Kieran! Drat it all, we gave you and Stephen a simple task and you failed us!”
Rosalie stood there bristling with irritation, her mother twirling her parasol just behind her and Pepper, one hand raised to shield her face from the sun, scanning the seafarers, tradesmen, artisans and vendors thronging the waterfront as she searched for a trace of their missing quarry.
Captain Kieran Merrick braced himself for the attack. “I told you I’m not good at this sort of thing,” he said innocently, but he caught Stephen’s eye beside him and it was all he could do to keep a straight face. “I did the best I could.”
“The best you could? You’re capable of killing pirates, breaching blockades, sneaking past the British in the dead of night but are unable to keep track of one brightly dressed woman and a man who stands head and shoulders over just about everyone else in the crowd? Really, Kieran!”
“I didn’t see where they went, either,” Stephen said with equal innocence.
“You two are useless when it comes to this sort of thing,” Susannah lamented, snapping her parasol shut. “Now we’ll have to find them ourselves.”
Kieran bent to heft a cask that was impeding foot traffic on the pier. “You’re treating them like children. Leave them be.”
“Aye,” said Stephen, jumping into the conversation on the male side. “I’m sure they can take care of themselves, right, Kieran?”
“Right.”
“Fine job they did of it last time!” Pepper said in exasperation. “You, Kieran, sailed away with him and my sister, and Liam didn’t bother to stay in touch with my aunt. They need a little....”
“Help,” her mother supplied, opening the parasol once more.
Kieran leaned a hip against the cask. “And how do you propose to give them that?”
“Well—”
“Seems to me that the best thing you three can do is to go back home, let the two of them work things out for themselves, and let it go. If it’s meant to be, it’ll be.”
Susannah made a noise of frustration, turned her back and marched back off down the pier. “Come, girls. The longer we stand here trying to enlist the help of men in something they’re obviously unsuited to do, the less chance we have of finding and following them.”
Off she went, Pepper hurrying to catch up, Rosalie meeting Kieran’s amused gaze, returning his helpless shrug, and finally hurrying off.
Only when they were out of sight did Stephen turn to his brother-in-law and laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“You.”
Kieran raised a brow, trying not to smirk, and bent to pick up the cask.
“You know very well they went into that tavern over yonder,” Stephen said, clapping Kieran on the back. “And yet you still let their pursuers run off on a wild goose chase. That’s rich, Merrick.”
“Aye, well, if our two lovebirds are lucky they’ll make good use of a head start.”
Chapter 9
They had indeed gone into the tavern.
And quickly existed through a side door and into the street.
There, Liam hailed a cab and they were soon lost to even the sharp-eyed Kieran’s gaze as the vehicle carried them through the bustling streets of Fells Point. They ended up spending the morning at the newly-opened Peale’s museum on North Holliday Street, where they were treated to portraits done by the famed artist, paintings, and the crowning exhibit, the skeleton of a prehistoric beast that was so tall that visitors, crowding around it, had to tilt their heads back to see its top.
“A mastodon,” said their guide. “It was dug up by our founder’s father over a decade ago in New York, transported here and mounted for all to see. We are honored to have it.”
Liam, who had no idea what a mastodon was but was happily aware of Annis pressing quite close to him, peered up at the giant, arcing tusks high overhead. There wasn’t much that made him, a large burly man, feel small. This beast, though, had the effect. The thing smelled faintly musty. Old.
“I wonder what it looked like, with flesh,” mused a young boy in the swell.
“And what it ate,” added his mother, gazing up at the huge tusks.
Beside him, Annis looked a bit flushed. Her fan came out, moving the stale air around her face, but she stared in fascination at the great beast, the huge curving ribs, the thick, splayed skeletal toes, the massive toothed jaw and gaping sockets where once its eyes had peered out from its broad, flat skull.
“We believe it was a carnivore,” the guide crowed. “And do note its size, everyone! The great French naturalist George de Buffon insisted that the environment of our great continent could not support an animal of this size, that North America could never boast a creature as mighty as anything from the Old World.” He stepped back, indicating the titanic skeleton with a sweeping flourish of his arm. “But as our esteemed founder Mr. Peale, and indeed that worthy gentleman Thomas Jefferson himself has pointed out, the mastodon is proof that our great continent could produce and sustain mighty life forms, unique to us, never before seen in Europe or any other. A fitting symbol of our new nation, is it not?”
A comment that was especially well-received, given that the battle of Baltimore was so fresh in the memories of those present. A chorus of “ayes!” and “hear, hears!” went up and the musty, cloying smell of the room, despite the building being new, the paint still fresh on the walls and the varnish of the woodwork barely dry, began to feel pressing to Liam. He was used to salt air and the wind in his face, not such a close and crowded place. He was just about to ask Annis if they should make their exit when she stood up on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, “I’ve had enough of this place. I’m ready to leave if you are.”
He grinned down at her. “Let’s go.” He took her small hand in his and led her through the milling crowd, his size making it easy find the door and clear a path. Moments later they were outside in the clean, cold wind. There, Annis took off the turban, let the wind rake her hair, and stood for a long moment, head tilted back, eyes closed.
Liam stared. He could look at her all day. God almighty, she was beautiful.
Their gazes met. Words were spoken without voice and she seemed to sway toward him.
Damn. It was all he could do not to grab her hand, pull her toward him, and kiss her senseless, even if it was out here in public with people milling everywhere, people who would know her, people who would likely talk.
Damn!
She recovered quickly enough. It was a sin to cover that gorgeous hair, but she soon had the turban back on, the cloak pulled tight around her shoulders. He offered his arm.
She gave him a coy little look, grinned, and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.
And Liam was happier than he’d been in years.
“Let’s get something to eat,” he said, and they found a tavern near the waterfront where they dined on oysters, buttered bread and a hearty vegetable soup. The shadows were long by the time they made their way back to Annis’s house in Fells Point.
Here, away from the waterfront, the wind was quieter, kinder, less blustery, and the afternoon pleasantly warm. Sunlight, weakening with the advance of autumn, slanted through the bare branches of the elm that, in summer, must offer blessed shade in this modest back garden. Now, it cast tangled shadows across the grass, and as they sat together on a bench enjoying tea braced with liberal splashes of whiskey, Annis couldn’t deny that her own heart was beating a little faster, a little harder, at the nearness of his shoulder to hers. He must’ve felt the same attraction, for a moment later, he reached out and took her hand.
“I wanted to kiss you earlier,” he murmured, his voice sounding a bit hoarse.
“And why didn’t you?”
“I was thinking of your reputation.”
Annis just laughed and looked up at him, at his beamy face with its crooked smile, the smile that took four decades off his age and made her wonder what sort of devil he’d been as a boy, what sort of mischief he’d gotten into, and she wished, oh, how she wished, that she had met him a long, long time ago.
“Well, we have plenty of privacy here,” she murmured, tilting her head to the side and holding his gaze. His eyes darkened and he turned toward her, pulling loose the tie of her turban, his fingers grazing the underside of her chin before dragging the garment from her head. He leaned in close, and Annis shut her eyes on
a soft little sigh. She felt his breath stirring her hair. Smelled his shaving soap and the faint whiff of his cologne. Oh, how good he smelled, how long she’d waited for this very moment! And then she felt the press of his lips, the slight scratch of his whiskers against her cheek, the delicious, oh, the oh-so-delicious warmth of his hand coming against the back of her neck to draw her close, his hard, calloused thumb stroking her cheek while his fingers strayed into her hair.
She opened her mouth to him and of its own accord, her body leaned into his and she felt things inside her begin to soar and sing and melt as she lost herself in the kiss.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all day long,” he managed, as their mouths finally drifted apart.
“Pity that it took you so long.”
He laughed, caught her chin in one huge hand, and drew her close once more. Again their lips met, and she opened her mouth to the insistent press of his tongue, her body firing with sudden need. His fingers sliding into her hair. His hand on her arm, pulling her close. Her nipples, tingling with need, craving his touch. Ohhhhh.... She pulled away, suddenly mindful of curious neighbors in this close little neighborhood, and he touched his forehead to hers, looking down at her.
“You should invite me inside.”
“I should.”
“Will you?”
“Kiss me again and I’ll answer you.”
He kissed her again, and Annis stopped caring about who might be watching from any of the windows that looked down upon her little garden.
“Stay the night with me, Liam.”
“What?”
“Unless, of course, Kieran needs child-minding.”
He guffawed at her playful taunt, found her hand where it was tangled in her skirts, and traced the edge of her thumb in a slow, seductive way that made the heat build in her blood. “I think Kieran can take care of himself,” he admitted.
“It gladdens me to hear you finally acknowledge that fact.”
“Hard for me to do, you know. But I’m making progress, don’t ye think?”
She just laughed, and he laughed with her in a moment of shared delight.
Never Too Late For Love (Heroes Of The Sea Book 9) Page 5