They sat together in companionable silence, watching the sun sinking through the trees, enjoying each other’s company, savoring the memories of the day and anticipating the coming night. The wind came up, tickling the curls that had escaped Annis’ upswept knot. It had a bite to it now, as night approached. Liam felt her shiver, and shrugging out of his pea-coat, settled it tenderly around her shoulders. She pulled it close and leaned against him, her hand coming out to rest discreetly on his knee beneath the woolen folds.
All but burning it.
He felt her fingers lightly stroking his kneecap, giving him a taste of what the night would hold.
Liam groaned. He’d been battling to contain his desire for her all day, and now he was as good as lost at the faint suggestion of her touch. He caught her hand and gave her a private, promising little smile. Later. She returned it, eyes sparkling. Of course. She understood. After all, they were out here in the open, and neighbors, well ... they talked.
He cleared his throat. It took a moment to find his voice.
“Beautiful woman like you, all alone. ’Tis surprised, I am, that nobody’s snapped you up.”
“Well, I’m rather picky.”
“Can’t be too picky if ye’re sitting out here with me and inviting me inside for the night.”
“As I said—” she smiled, confident in her words, her gaze boldly holding his — “I’m picky.”
God almighty, she was going to set his blood on fire if she kept this up. Again, he cleared his throat, her hand still caught in his beneath the folds of his coat, and looked away. The shadows at their feet were long.
“So what happened to your husband?”
“He died of consumption almost a decade ago.”
“No children from the marriage?”
“None.” She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. His knee and the flesh around it tingled, aching for the return of her touch, the sensation affecting his groin in ways that would soon be apparent if he didn’t put his mind elsewhere. She’d brought him close to the breaking point and left him suspended there in faint agony. Wanting her. Craving her. Oh, tonight couldn’t come fast enough. “No children,” she repeated with a sigh, as though she hadn’t just tilted his world on its axis, “and so I dote on my brother’s.” She titled her head to look up at him. “And you?”
“Ah, well....” He shrugged. “Had me a fine woman once.”
“What happened?”
“We were together for a long time. Should’ve asked her to marry me.”
“And why didn’t you?”
“I was at sea a lot. Didn’t think it was fair to her, so I kept putting it off. Always thought there was another tomorrow, another day that I could ask her. And so I never did. One day we ran out of tomorrows, and she was gone.” He stared off through the trees into the waning sun, low now in the sky. “No children for me, either. And so I dote on my best friend’s.”
She followed his gaze. “I guess we both dote on other people’s children.”
“Aye, ’tis what ye do, when ye don’t have a family of your own.”
The silence deepened between them, each lost in their own thoughts. Their hands remained clasped beneath the coat. The sun sank lower, burnt orange now, the shadows cast by the trees long across the grass, stretching toward their feet and in that moment, Liam realized he was on the verge of making the same mistake twice. That he was about to squander another opportunity to find love. He had lost Jane because of his own stubbornness, his own procrastination and excuses, and here he was sitting here with a fine woman whose warmth pressed against his shoulder, whose scent intoxicated him, whose smile buoyed his heart and whose presence filled his soul. A woman of fierce confidence and spirit, a woman with whom he could fall in love, a woman with whom he could share many tomorrows.
Good tomorrows.
But....
There was always a but, wasn’t there?
He remembered Brendan. Remembered his last words, his solemn vow to his late friend. Being with Annis would mean staying here in Baltimore and being far away from Kieran and Connor. Away from their growing families. Away from helping them out of any trouble that the devil might feel inclined to send them. The pirate king Escobar’s little brother was still out there somewhere. He might be thirsting for vengeance, seeking to even the score with Kieran. Liam swallowed, hard. You couldn’t make good on a vow to a dead man if you weren’t there to see it out.
But it wasn’t really about Brendan, was it?
Or his children?
No. It was about the sheer terror of jumping into an abyss of the unknown after a lifetime spent as a bachelor, pledging your life and time to another person, being half of a whole that included someone else.
Was he willing to take that risk?
Was he?
Liam jumped into the abyss, feet first, hard and unthinking.
“We ought to be together, Annis,” he said baldly, hastily, before he could think too much about the but and before the seed of doubt could take further root in his innards.
She drew back and stared up at him as though he’d lost his mind. “Is that a ... proposal?”
What am I doing? What am I asking her? I’m not ready! I can’t do this! Oh, damnation! “Well, uh, not exactly. More like, um, well, more like an observation.”
She looked at him for a long, puzzled moment, and then turned her head away. A bleakness came into her eyes. “An observation.”
Bloody hell. “I’m not saying we shouldn’t get married, Annis. We get on well, we do, but—”
“But?”
But.
“I got that all wrong,” Liam said, fighting a sense of rising panic. “Seems like I can never find the right way to word things around ye, Annis. Everything I say comes out wrong.”
“And what are you trying to say?”
He felt a slow, ugly flush creep up his neck. “Well, now, I—”
“Are you looking for a mistress?”
His eyes widened. “No, not that.”
“So what are you offering?”
It was his turn to come up short. “You’re a fine woman, Annis. You make me laugh. I like your company and we have fun together.” He gathered his courage and blurted, “At some point ... at some point, maybe we ought to get married.”
She just looked at him, and then away, and then down at her lap and he saw something go out of her, something indefinable and small, but strong enough that its sudden absence seemed to diminish her. She pulled her hand away and tucked it between her knees. And then she rallied, just as he expected she would, and he braced himself for her words.
“We had fun together when you were here in June,” she said quietly. “We’ve enjoyed each other’s company, today.”
“Aye, yes, we did—”
“But we’ve not known each other for long. You are set in your ways, Liam, used to your own company. I understand the fear of taking a big risk. You’re reluctant. Not ready to make a commitment. Your heart isn’t in this, and your words have an air of desperation about them.” She looked up then, and her gaze was frank and direct. “If I ever marry again, it will not be a business arrangement, nor will it be something that either party goes into with hesitancy or doubts.” She regarded him levelly, her eyes resolute. “It will be a union of love.”
“God almighty, lass, why did you think I even came back here to Baltimore?”
“Because Kieran needed you to help sail his sloop.”
“Of course he needs me, but there are dozens of men in Newburyport who could’ve served him just as well. I came because I wanted to see you again, and nothing more.”
“And why did you want to see me again, Liam?”
“Because I— because I like spending time with you.”
“And would you have sailed away a second time, leaving me to wonder just what your feelings toward me really were, had we not had this conversation? Am I a casual interest to you, someone to spend time with when you’re in town, or something more?
”
“I just offered to marry ye, lass!”
“Not quite. And I most certainly didn’t hear the word love in that proposal, and I’ve seen enough of Rosalie’s marriage, as well as my brother’s, to know that love is what fuels happiness and joy in a couple. It’s the boat that weathers the storms, the tie that binds when things get hard, the glue that holds everything together. I want what they have. I crave what they have. I may be getting old and maybe it’s too late, but if ever I marry again, I want my man to love me the way Kieran loves my Rosalie.”
Too old? Too late?
Oh, damnation. “It’s never too late,” he sputtered. “But it’s hard to love someone you haven’t spent much time with, don’t ye think?”
“Indeed, it is. And do you plan to spend time here, Liam, or are you heading straight back to Newburyport as soon as Kieran sails?”
“I—”
“Will you stay here and get to know me, or will you make the safe choice and go back to New England with your young friend?”
He faltered and flushed. She just raised a brow, knowing his unspoken answer. That he wasn’t ready or able to make any sort of promise. That he was unwilling to take such a chance. A chance that might lead to a commitment. A commitment that would result in the biggest and most profound change that his life had ever seen, would ever see.
A life that was quite content, predictable and tidy just the way it was and had always been, really, even if that life was a lonely one.
“I’m sorry, Annis,” he said, because there was nothing else to say.
She began to shrug out of his coat. “Some day, Liam, it will be too late for love. Life has a way of stealing the very chances it gives a person. Of taking back what it offers.” She got to her feet and pulled off his coat, holding it for a long moment in her hands. “If you’re not willing to take that chance, there’s not much more to be said. You stay with the Merricks, then. If they’re your destiny, if they’re where your heart is, I’m not going to even try and change that.”
“I let you down,” he muttered, not knowing what else to say.
“No, Liam.” She handed him the coat and pulled her turban from his hand. “You didn’t let me down. I’d hoped for more from you, but I understand.” She smiled then, but the joy had gone out of her gesture. “I can see myself back inside, thank you.”
“Annis, wait—”
“Good night.”
Chapter 10
It took all she had to hand him back the coat, raise her chin in an attempt to salvage her pride, and keep the false smile plastered to her face as she left him out there on the bench and, spine erect, headed back inside. They had held hands. They had kissed. Their shoulders had been touching and they’d both been looking forward to a passionate night spent together. Damn him. Damn everything. No sense thinking of how big and solid he was, how safe and protected a man like him made her feel. No sense thinking of his broad hands, his merry blue eyes or his toothy smile. No sense wanting to taste his mouth against her own all over again, to feel his brawny arms around her, to fantasize about a night that now wasn’t going to happen.
He does not love me.
And in the next step: How could he? You’ve spent so little time together.
And that was the point.
He had stayed away.
He had not come back.
He would flee to Newburyport the moment Kieran sailed, because the Merricks were his priority, his safety, his excuse.
His excuse.
On leaden feet she went into the house, shed her cloak with hands that felt tired and weighted, and hung it up. The light was fading and she could hear Gertie in the kitchen preparing supper. Chicken stew, by the smell of it. Another meal that could have been shared with Liam, but would now be eaten alone.
Alone.
Outside the window, the shadows on the lawn had merged into the coming night, a night that should have ended differently, a night that had ended in disappointment. Annis stood there for a moment, her heart aching for the door to open behind her, for him to come into the house with protests and a change of heart. Aching for him to come up behind her, to turn her to face him and kiss her senseless. Something, anything, to prove her wrong and show that maybe there was something there, even if it was just a seed of love.
It didn’t have to be the size of a peach pit, damn it.
A raspberry seed would do.
Instead, she saw movement beyond the paned window off to her right. A glimpse of his coat, his broad back in the gathering darkness, and then he was gone.
She couldn’t help herself. She moved to the window and peered out, watching him go, her fingers tightening on the sill until the knuckles were white.
Watching him stride in his rolling seafarer’s gait toward the street as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
Watching him disappear into the gloom.
She stood for a long moment at the window, looking into the night, her mouth grim and her hopes defeated. From outside, she could hear the lonely sound of crickets. Feel the press of the darkness against the cold pane.
Alone.
Annis took a deep and bracing breath. Packing, she reminded herself. A task that wouldn’t be done on its own.
She turned from the window and headed for the stairs, and the half-filled trunk in her bedroom that awaited her.
* * *
“Report,” Pepper demanded as the little group gathered over tea in the McCormack parlor an hour later.
“They spent the day at the Museum,” Rosalie supplied helpfully. “We had them followed.”
“Were they happy? Smiling and laughing? Enjoying each other’s company?” asked her mother.
“They kissed,” Rosalie crowed.
“Kissed!”
“Yes, Auntie was glowing like a banked fire,” gushed Rosalie, beaming. “Wasn’t she, Kieran?”
“What?”
“Did you even hear what I just asked?”
“Actually, I—”
“I wish you would be more invested in this. We need you. The future of two people we love is at stake!”
“I’m not meddling in their affairs.”
“You already have. ’Twas you who paid that boy on the docks to follow them into the Museum and to report back to us.”
Kieran, stirring sugar into his tea, had the good grace to flush.
“What happened after they left the Museum?” Pepper demanded.
Rosalie leaned forward, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “They went back to her house. Sat out in the garden. Our little spy lost sight of them, but he sneaked into the neighbor’s garden and peered through a slat in the fence. That’s when he saw them kiss.”
“Oooh!”
“Did they kiss twice?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Hold hands?”
“For a time.”
“How long?”
Kieran blew on his tea, his tone reproving. “Honestly, you women are incorrigible.”
Rosalie made a noise of impatience. “Don’t pretend innocence. You want this for them as much as we do, you’re just too much of a ... of a male to admit it.”
Kieran flushed yet again.
“And then what happened?” asked Pepper.
“He left.”
“Alone?”
“Yes, alone. And wearing a frown.”
“Oh, that does not sound good.”
Susannah stood up and went to the window. She stared outside, her candlelit face reflected against the dark pane of the glass. “Annis is leaving for Montserrat the day after tomorrow. We need to do something, and do it soon if we’re going to get these two together before it’s too late.”
Chapter 11
The tavern was loud and boisterous, the spirits free-flowing, the sailors rowdy and the tobacco smoke a blue cloud in the lantern-light but through it, Liam saw a familiar form approaching.
Kieran.
The look on the younger man’s face boded ill.
He approached the table at which Liam sat drinking with his newfound friends. They took one look at the younger man, exchanged wary glances, and recognizing authority, made room for him.
Lots of room.
“Ahoy, Cap’n.”
Someone raised a tankard. “Something to drink?”
Kieran ignored them and remained standing. “Liam. We need to talk.”
“What?” The crash of a table going over and plates, tankards and glasses with it as a fight broke out nearby, drowned out the last of his captain’s words. Liam’s new friends, eager to escape what looked to be a confrontation between Kieran and himself, jumped up and hurried to the brawl, already throwing money down on a table as bets began to fly.
“Outside.”
“But—”
“Now.”
Kieran didn’t often use his captain’s voice, and his da before him hadn’t either, but when he did, people listened.
Liam listened.
Ignoring the fight behind them, Kieran turned his back and headed toward the door, instinctively ducking as a chair flew toward his head and crashed against the wall just to his left. Calm and unflappable as always, Liam thought, sparing an envious glance behind him. He itched to throw himself into the fight. Itched to feel his knuckles against someone’s face. Itched to lose himself in something physical. The way he was feeling right now—
His captain took a firm grip on his elbow and shoved Liam ahead of him, out the door.
“God almighty, Kieran, it’s just getting good back in there! What the bloody hell are ye doing?”
The younger man pushed him outside, stopped, and turned. In the light emanating from the tavern windows his mouth was hard, his eyes watering from the smoky room they’d just vacated. He looked impatient, annoyed, frustrated.
“You’re not going back in there to join into the brawl. And don’t tell me you’ve no intention of doing just that, I know you, I know your moods, and I know you think it’ll make everything better. It won’t. Besides, I need crew. Getting yourself injured isn’t going to make you of any use to me in sailing Sandpiper home.”
“What are ye talking about?”
Never Too Late For Love (Heroes Of The Sea Book 9) Page 6