Mary Burton - The Lightkeeper's Woman

Her head pounded, however, her skin no longer burned and her brain didn’t feel fuzzy. She was more like herself.

On the bedside table was the box that had brought her here. Its lacquer coating glistened in the pale light.

Alanna tried to sit up, but regretted the move instantly. Her chest, back and arm muscles ached, the pain a reminder of her struggles in the sound. With some effort, she rolled on her side to ease the discomfort in her back. Her body was stiff, as if she’d aged a hundred years in the last few days.

Caleb. Where was he?

He’d saved her life and cared for her. If not for Caleb, she’d have died.

Few men would have gone into the storm to save her. Crowley had left her behind. Henry wouldn’t have had the strength to save her.

When she’d started this journey she’d been filled with righteous anger. In her mind, Caleb had owed her an explanation. He’d owed her an apology. Now, nothing was as clear-cut as it had been. Suddenly, the speech she’d rehearsed and planned to recite seemed juvenile and self-righteous.

Very aware that Caleb was close, Alanna grew restless. She tried to sit up again. Her movements were slower, more deliberate, yet she still winced as she worked her strained muscles and her head spun with another bout of dizziness. Her stomach churned, forcing her to cup her head in her hands.

Slowly her body adjusted to its new position and the spinning calmed. She pushed a curtain of blond hair out of her eyes and surveyed the oversize, partially buttoned white shirt she wore. The shirt was cut wide to fit Caleb’s shoulders and, though clean, his scent still clung to the material. Underneath it, she was naked.

Before when she’d been sick, her state of dress hadn’t mattered. Now she was very aware of it.

Heat rose in her cheeks as she smoothed her hand over the cotton sleeves that hung a good six inches past her hands.

“You’re finally up.” Caleb’s rough voice came from a darkened corner.

Alanna started, searching the shadows for him. “Yes.”

His face was shadowed and she couldn’t make out his features. His long, lean hands rested on the arms of his chair and his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle.

On the floor in front of his chair lay a dog. The dog was part shepherd, part mutt with brown-and-black bristly fur. Toby. He was older, more muscular, than Alanna remembered, but the crimped right ear was unmistakable. Caleb had found the dog when it was a half-starved puppy living under the Portsmouth docks three years ago.

All she could think to say was, “You kept Toby.”

Toby perked up his ears but didn’t leave Caleb’s side.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Caleb’s surprise was clear.

She cleared her throat. “I heard your life got…complicated for a while. I just thought the responsibility of a dog was too much.”

“I don’t run from responsibility.” Challenge edged his words.

She might have argued the point with him if she could have summoned the fire and spit. “I’m glad you kept him. He’s a good dog.”

Caleb rubbed the dog between its floppy brown ears. His gaze made her skin burn.

Uncomfortable, she fastened the top buttons on the shirt. With as much dignity as she could muster she said, “Thank you for saving me.”

“It’s what I do,” he said coolly.

“Of course.” There’d been nothing special about her rescue. He’d been doing his job. The thought that she was no longer unique saddened her. “How long have I been here?”

“Two days.”

“Two days! I am expected in Richmond on Friday.”

“You always had an active social calendar.” Sarcasm etched his words.

Her mind was racing. How could she have slept so long? Lord, she would never be able to explain this to Henry. “I don’t suppose you know where my clothes are?”

“Ruined.”

Panic shot through her veins. “What do you mean ruined?”

“Water and velvet don’t seem to mix, and your underclothes smelled of seaweed.”

And her valise remained on Crowley’s boat. If Henry were going to be annoyed by her tardiness, he certainly would not appreciate her arriving home half-naked. “Do you have something more dignified than one of your shirts that I could wear?”

He studied her a long moment, staring until she felt her cheeks blush. “I’ll scrounge pants and a sweater for you later,” he said finally. Clearly, her state of dress was of no import to him.

His lack of concern annoyed her. It also frustrated her the firelight cast a glow on her, but he remained shadowed. She clutched the folds of the shirt tighter. “Could you find something for me now. It isn’t proper for me to be half-dressed and alone with you.”

A tense silence settled between them. “There was a time when you didn’t mind being half-dressed when we were together. Or have you forgotten?”

With aching clarity she remembered everything about their nights together. Too many nights, she’d lain awake remembering the way her skin tingled when he’d kissed the hollow of her neck, how her heart raced when his hand touched her thigh and the completeness she’d felt when he’d been inside her.

He rose to his full six feet two inches. The dog rose and yawned.

Caleb stepped out of the shadows and for the first time she saw his face. She saw the scar first. Jagged and raised, the scar stretched from the corner of his left eye down over his cheek to his jaw.

Alanna stared at Caleb’s scar in stunned horror and then, hating herself for it, flinched. Her father had spoken in passing of Caleb’s injuries as if they were little more than scratches.

Her father was wrong.

Whatever had happened to Caleb was violent and agonizing.

She shouldn’t have cared that he’d suffered but she did. Tears tightened her throat and several seconds passed before she trusted herself to meet his steely gaze.

Caleb’s eyes were the same, blue as a winter sky, but they were sharper, more direct if that were possible. His shoulders looked broader and his hands larger.

The lines around his full mouth and eyes were etched deeper. He’d tied back his black hair, accentuating streaks of gray at the temples. The rugged masculine features she’d once found so appealing had hardened into a chilling, unrecognizable mask.

The anger drained from her face and she felt as if a soft breeze would topple her over. “Did you get the scar in the accident?”

“Yes.”

“Caleb, I had no idea.”

“Why have you come?” His voice grated like sand against skin.

Color flamed her face. Dear Lord, she should not have come. “I’m honoring my father’s will.”

“What are you talking about? Your father hated me.”

She reached for the box on the nightstand and held it out to him. “This is for you.”

He made no move toward her. “You never listened to Obadiah when he was alive. It’s hard for me to see you traveling so far to see that his last wishes are observed.” He paused. “I can only conclude you came to see me.”

The accuracy of his words goaded her temper.

“Arrogance was always your downfall.”

He nodded his head, acknowledging her statement. “And selfishness yours.”

She stiffened.

A low bitter laugh rumbled in his chest. “Let’s face it, Alanna. The only person you’ve ever looked after is yourself.”

Her fingers tightened around the box. “How dare you!”

“I’m not in the mood for the wounded dove act, Alanna. I don’t want anything from you and especially from your father,” he said. “I’ve already made that clear in writing. Or have you for gotten?”

She glared at him, anger burning inside her. How could he be so ungrateful to the man who had brought him into his company? “Father treated you like a son.”