Page 23 of The Lyon’s Lass

That was well and good, except Iain could barely read this message. Writing one back would be quite difficult and highly unhelpful, as the lad was unlikely to understand Iain’s scratches as words.

Instead, he just smiled and gestured his wishes. Jack was clever and picked up on things quickly. By the time Maisy came out on the deck, the men were fed and everyone was buzzing with excitement. It didn’t matter the length of the voyage or how much a man loved being at sea, coming into port was a thrill.

“You must be exhausted,” she said when she came to him.

“I managed a bit of sleep up here, but I wanted to be close by if the repair didn’t hold.”

She nodded, but looked away with a frown. Was she disappointed he hadn’t come to their room? That couldn’t be right. She should have cooled by now and been glad things hadn’t gotten out of hand.

He would never pretend to understand the workings of a woman’s mind. Instead he held out his arm in an offer to stroll. She took it readily and they walked toward the front of the ship where the sea spray hit their faces.

“I’ve seen you speak to Jack without using your hand signals and he’s understood you fine, but when I speak he does not. Am I doing something wrong?” he asked.

Maisy shook her head. “Not wrong. It’s your beard. He reads lips but cannot see yours well enough to understand your words behind the whiskers.”

“Ah. That makes sense.”

“He can write messages when he doesn’t understand. You can communicate that way.”

For a moment he hesitated, unwilling to share his short-comings, but then decided it was best she know so she didn’t think him stubborn or unaccepting of her brother.

“I’m afraid letters and numbers have been a challenge for me most of my life. I had many tutors through the years, and while I understand the fundamentals, when I look at something written on parchment they tend to twist and turn into something I’ve never seen before.”

“That must be difficult,” she said, not in pity, but with understanding clear in her light brown eyes.

“Hodge is able to read and write. He often helps. Oddly enough when I look at a map, it is easy for me to understand. Those lines are twisted on purpose.”

She smiled at his jest.

“We all have our trials. And things we excel at.”

“We do,” he agreed.

She frowned and shook her head.

“I must be honest. I don’t excel at much. I’m not skilled at playing a musical instrument despite all the instructors. I can barely complete a stitch when it comes to embroidery. Perhaps I should have studied those things harder in my youth. Instead, most days were spent running with Jack through the wilds of Cornwall. My mother was gone, and father and Nelson rarely ever stayed there. It was just the two of us. I guess, that will be how it is again.”

He watched her face for any sign she was unhappy about this, and couldn’t tell. Not until she followed it up with a question.

“How long will you stay?”

The way her gaze glanced away and the frown on those lush lips he’d kissed the night before, told him she was displeased that he would be leaving her. She probably wished for some grand romance between them. Despite her age and stern countenance, she was still a woman.

He hated the idea of disappointing her, but she would certainly become frustrated with him if he stayed.

“A few days, at least. Long enough to get things settled. I’ll not leave you until I’m certain the repairs are underway and the place is fit for you to live in.” He could have easily hired someone to see to the repairs. It would do no good to lie to himself and think he stayed for her. Not when it was he who wanted to stay.

“Thank you.”

She glanced at him and then away. He couldn’t help but feel like she wanted to say something else.

“What is it?”

She let out a breath and then turned toward him.

“I wanted to ask you about how we would handle things once you sailed away with no plans to return.”

“What do you mean?”