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“Tell me that song does come to an end,” William said between gasps for air.
“Oh, eventually,” Pippa said. “I’m certain we weren’t the first couple to quit.”
Couple. He and Pippa. William liked the sound of that very much.
She rested her hands on her waist as she drew in deep breaths and walked away from the dancers. William followed her until they’d slipped out of the throng and lingered on the outside of the gathering.
“When I imagined you dancing a Scottish reel on the beach, I had no idea just how accurately my mind had depicted the image.”
“Was it everything you hoped it would be?” William asked, unable to help himself. He knew he’d looked a fool, but he’d enjoyed doing so.
“It was even better,” Pippa said. She was radiant. The sun fell behind the trees that encased the clearing and darkness slowly descended on them. As though she’d had the same thought, Pippa looked up at the sky. “I need to find my brother-in-law soon.”
“And I need to be off to the beach soon.”
She gave him an inquisitive look, and he shrugged. “Fishing.”
“Were you a fisherman before coming here?”
He was fairly certain there was more to Pippa’s question than she let on, and the glowing in his chest dimmed. “I have always been a man of the sea,” he said carefully.
She grew still. “A man of the sea? Or a fisherman?”
William should have known that he could not slyly pass Pippa’s question. She was much too clever. He wanted to explain himself, but he was lost for words. What could he say to her? That he was a successful smuggler who had for years evaded British law and revenue men and harmlessly provided his people with affordable goods—all the while lining his own pockets? He could not say that, for it was untrue. His work had not been harmless. Men had died. His own mother had died. And he was not proud of the things he’d done.
Mac approached them before William could find the right words, and he noticed the tightening around Pippa’s eyes and mouth. She was not pleased with him, and it stung, no matter that the cause lay squarely on William’s shoulders.
“Are you ready to leave?” Mac asked Pippa. “Mabel has gone home already with Liam and Hope. I’ve told Winthrop and the others to remain as long as they’d like.”
“I am ready.”
Mac slapped William on the back. “Welcome to Collacott.”
“I cannot adequately thank you for the warm welcome you’ve given us. Though if your wife is to be believed, the people of Collacott merely used my neediness as an excuse to throw a feast and dance.”
“Well, certainly,” Mac said. “But don’t let Mabel fool you entirely. We are always happy to help our friends.”
William’s chest warmed and expanded. Friend. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had a friend merely for the sake of it, and not for what they could provide for him. Even Roger was more of an associate than a friend.
It was a shocking discovery to feel how desperately he appreciated Mac’s approval. But as quickly as he relished the title of friend, he crashed to the earth in the stark realization that he was severely undeserving of it. He had come to Collacott running away from the law—which had evidently followed him—and had already begun the process of bringing unlawful smuggling to Camden Cove’s peaceful shores.
Once Mac—a blasted Navy man, for goodness’ sake—discovered what William was truly about, he would not be so welcoming. He would undoubtedly regret his ready acceptance of the Blakemore men.
William stepped away from them. He needed to put distance between himself and the Mackenzie family, Pippa included. He could not allow his heart to become entangled in the utopian peace they offered him. Not when it was sure to be short-lived.
“Thank you for your help today, Mac. I owe you a great debt, and I’m glad to pay it the moment you find yourself in need.” William could hear the distance in his voice, and he suppressed a wince at Pippa’s confused expression.
“I believe you’ve saved my daughter twice now, Mr. Blakemore. We are certainly even.”
“Call me William, and I leave my offer open.” With a quick bow, William turned and fled.
