Lady in the Mist - Laurie Alice Eakes [54]
Two years away from regular excursions on his boat hadn’t ended the grace with which she leaped aboard. Of course, she might have been on other boats, sailed with other suitors.
He stifled the stab of jealousy. He had no right to feel envy for the men who had stayed at home and tried to win her.
Except for that bondsman.
Lips thinning at the thought of the Englishman, Raleigh sprang back to the jetty, released the painter, and bounded onto the deck before the gap between land and boat grew too wide.
Tabitha laughed. “I always admired how you could do that without falling on your face. But I always expect you to go splash one of these days.”
“I expect I will.” Her laughter eased his tension and gave him the courage to take her hand in his. “Thank you for coming, even if you are afraid of the British.”
“I’m not afraid of the British.” She lowered her gaze to the deck. “I’m afraid for your sake. You just returned. And the other day—” A shudder ran through her.
“Then there’s hope, Tabbie?” He tucked his hand under her chin and urged her to meet his gaze. “Does that little speech mean there’s hope for my suit?”
“There’s always hope, Raleigh.” She smiled. “For the time being, I’m a midwife and, due to lack of anyone else, a healer. One thing we learn with patients is that if they are still breathing, they have a chance of pulling through.”
“Then your feelings for me are still breathing?” He stroked her jaw with his thumb, loving the softness of her skin. “And maybe there’s a pulse somewhere?” He touched the pulse beneath her ear and heaved a silent sigh that it didn’t feel the least bit accelerated.
Not compared to his.
“Yes.” She smiled. “But there won’t be if we don’t get that sail up.”
“Right.” Laughing, he dodged across the deck and pulled the halyard to unfurl the single sail. “Get the tiller, will you?”
For the next quarter hour, he could pretend they were on that last sail together, working in harmony, as he raised and secured the sail and she manned the wheel, keeping the little craft headed away from land on the gentle swells of the outgoing tide. He didn’t need to shout directions to her. She knew. She’d grown up on these shores too, sailed with him from the time they were old enough to go out on their own, and with others before then. Her light skirts fluttering around her legs and her hat ribbons hovering around her face, she bent and swayed with the roll of the deck to keep her balance. Sunlight stole beneath the hat brim and lit her features, washing away her pallor and dark circles of fatigue. And she was smiling.
“This is all worth it, God,” he spoke to the opalescent sky. “Being here with her is worth every risk I’ve ever taken.”
Lines belayed to the rail, Raleigh joined Tabitha at the wheel. “Have you been sailing since we went last?”
“No.” She shook her head.
“You haven’t lost your touch with the wheel.” He stood behind her and set his hands on the spokes next to hers, encasing her in his arms. “But I’d better take over from here. You don’t know where the sandbanks and rocks are now.”
“No.” He felt her go rigid from his nearness, and she snatched her hands away from contact with his. “If you’ll just move one arm for a moment . . .” She pushed at him harder than necessary to break his hold on the wheel, as though his forearm was a barricade or a prison bar.
He released the spoke long enough for her to step away from him, leaving him cold where she’d stood. “We used to steer like that.”
“That,” she said with the hint of a chill, “was when we were going to get married.”
Raleigh’s insides felt as though the boat had twisted into the deep trough of a wave. “I’m sorry. When you came with me today, I’d hoped . . .”
“I came with you today because I want to rebuild our friendship, Raleigh.” She gave him one of her direct, clear gazes. “I want to forgive you, and if we can be friends again, then maybe I can.”
“Not forgiving harms you,” Raleigh told her. “Sunday’s sermon was on forgiving those who hurt