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Hands balling into fists, Courtney said a silent prayer that Slayde would learn something, that his trip to Morland would yield results. That, upon his return, they’d be one step closer to finding the pirate who’d seized her father’s ship, and one step closer to peace and resolution.
Unsteadily, she made her way back to the bed, lifting her father’s timepiece from the drawer and clasping it in her hands. Was it madness to believe he was alive? Or, if not madness, then irrational faith? Last night, the idea had seemed so plausible. But today, in the cold light of day, the events of last night were distant and dreamlike.
All the events of last night.
Propping up her pillows, Courtney leaned back, her fingertips brushing her lips as mists of memory laced her thoughts. Pensively, she reflected on those unexpected moments in Slayde’s arms.
Unexpected, but unsurprising, given the intensity of the conversation that had preceded them, the revelations and emotions that had been roused.
What was surprising was how natural it had felt—being close to Slayde, having his mouth touch hers, teach hers, take hers. She, whose romantic ideals, transient life, and protective father had precluded even the most innocent of courtships, had welcomed a man to her bed and participated in the most exquisite awakening of the senses imaginable.
She was overreacting, she reminded herself silently. After all, it had been only a kiss, not a coupling. Then again, perhaps that made it all the more poignant, her heart argued back. True, nothing had happened, and yet…it had felt so incredibly right, having him beside her, sharing their pai
n, their pasts, and ultimately their embrace.
With a pang of emptiness, Courtney contemplated the man whose teachings had spawned her overreaction: her father. ’Twas he who’d assured her, time and again, that her heart was meant to be awakened but once, that her tremendous capacity to love was destined for but one—the right one. She was meant for a man who needed her as much as she did him, one whom destiny would bring into her life when the time was right.
Had that time just arrived? Or was last night merely a case of one human being reaching out to another? Papa, she mourned silently, how can I recognize that man without you here to guide me?
Her throat tight with unshed tears, Courtney gazed down at her father’s timepiece, torn by grief and confusion. It was the same confusion she’d seen mirrored in Slayde’s eyes, not during their kiss, but after. He’d been as affected as she. And given her newly acquired knowledge of his past, she understood why. Emotional involvement was not something Slayde would permit. What was it Aurora had said? He keeps everything to himself. Thus, he’s alone. And lonely, whether he chooses to realize it or not.
But last night he hadn’t kept everything to himself. He’d opened up to her, discussed his grief in a way that both startled and unnerved him. And, in the process, he’d discovered something about himself he hadn’t known existed and didn’t intend to tolerate: vulnerability. So he’d done the safe thing, the only thing he could—he’d retreated.
The creak of the bedchamber door interrupted her musings.
“Courtney? Are you all right?” Aurora poked her head in, relief flooding her face as she saw Courtney reclining against the pillows. “I was on my way to the lighthouse. I heard shuffling noises from your room and thought you might be in pain.”
“Thank you.” Once again, Courtney felt deeply touched by Aurora’s concern. “I’m fine. What you heard was my feeble attempt to move about. I crept to the window and back, which is as much as I’m able to do. ’Tis so frustrating—” She broke off.
“I understand. Confinement is dreadful.” Aurora crossed over and perched on a chair. “Had I known you were awake, I would have visited earlier. I thought only the servants were up.”
“Earlier?” Courtney blinked. “It can’t be much past dawn. What time do you generally arise?”
A grin. “I have little patience for sleep. Shocking, isn’t it? For a noblewoman to loathe her rest?”
Courtney grinned back. “No more shocking than a sea captain’s daughter who loathes the sea.” She arched a brow. “Am I to presume that your friend the lighthouse keeper also awakens at first light? You did say you were on your way there.”
“Truthfully, I don’t think Mr. Scollard ever sleeps. In fact, ’tis difficult to imagine his having a home—other than the Windmouth Lighthouse. All the times I’ve burst in, uninvited, he’s always been at his post. And I’ve done that frequently, at hours ranging from dawn ’til midnight.”
“I don’t doubt that you have.” Courtney bit back laughter. “This Mr. Scollard sounds fascinating.”
Aurora leaned forward. “I believe he has the ability to see things most of us do not. ’Tis a gift; call it insight, wisdom, or something more. Whichever it is, it’s astounding. I can’t wait for you to meet him.”
“Nor can I.” Courtney sighed in exasperation. “I feel so miserably helpless—for many reasons. I need to be up and about.”
“And you will be. By week’s end, you’ll be strolling with me to the lighthouse, you’ll see.” Aurora glanced up, the sound of clinking china announcing Matilda’s imminent arrival with Courtney’s breakfast. “What if I asked Matilda to serve my breakfast up here as well? That way we’d be able to continue our chat. Or did you wish to be alone?”
“That’s the last thing I wish. But what about your excursion?”
“It can wait until later. The only reason I was hurrying off so early is that I hoped to leave Pembourne before…” Her voice drifted off.
“Before your brother spied you,” Courtney finished for her. “Well, fear not. Slayde left Pembourne a few minutes ago. He’ll be gone all day—maybe longer.”
“Where did he go?”
Courtney chewed her lip, wondering how much Aurora knew, then deciding that dishonesty was no way to begin a friendship. “To Morland.”
“Morland?” Aurora nearly toppled off her chair. “The Huntleys haven’t been welcome there for six decades.”
