Heart of the Storm (Harlequin Historical) Read online

  The early-morning sun sent light streaming into the kitchen. Rachel swirled the remains of her tea in the white porcelain cup. She’d not slept well last night. She’d dreamed of monsters, Ben and destruction.

  The wind scraped a tree branch against the window in the parlor. She started, then felt a fool for having the jitters.

  She set her cup down on the kitchen counter. For a few hours yesterday, she’d tried to pretend that the past didn’t exist. Like a fool, she’d heated the coffee as if she had a right to him. She’d even been humming.

  But when she’d opened the purse, the past had come crashing back and wedged itself between Ben and her.

  Ben had been right. Initially, desire hadn’t driven her kiss. She kissed him out of fear. She wanted to keep the fantasy alive and to forget.

  But the kiss had quickly changed from a diversion to something much more intense.

  She remembered the feel of his lips against hers. His kiss had been soft, gentle, but she’d tasted the passion that coursed through his body. He’d wanted more. And God help her, she’d have gladly given him more. His touch made her body sing. He ignited a heat in her that had grown cold long ago.

  And then he’d pulled away.

  Rachel closed her eyes. Ridiculous to think she could deceive him and herself. She was shackled to a past that would never leave her in peace.

  She had her money now. And it truly wasn’t safe to stay. In time someone would get word to Peter that she had survived the wreck. The allure of his wealth seduced everyone eventually. Hadn’t that been the reason she’d married him—for security?

  She paced. The sooner she left this place, the better. Ben and everyone else here would be better off once she’d gone. Peter would raze the village if he found her here.

  Her mind set, she went to her bedroom to retrieve her possessions. She changed out of the blue wool dress and into her black traveling dress. Folding the blue dress neatly, she laid it on his bed. She tucked the volume of poems in her reticule and stashed her money in her corset.

  Rachel paused at the threshold and looked back at the simple room. It had been a haven. If not for Ben and the shelter of this room, she would have died.

  Ben’s promises to keep her safe were true and honorable. But Peter would punish Ben for harboring her and she couldn’t bear that thought.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat and closed the bedroom door.

  Moving into the kitchen, she pulled on her coat. Once she reached the village, she’d find Ida. Without words, the woman understood her plight. She’d help Rachel.

  Rachel glanced up at the lighthouse. Ben had not extinguished the lanterns. The tower light burned bright against the thickening clouds behind it.

  She did not like sneaking off like this, but there could be no other way. Ben would try to stop her. And she might very well be tempted to stay.

  Turning away, she started down the narrow sandy path that cut through the wind-bent trees. She reached the village in fifteen minutes.

  The town was quiet, the streets and the boardwalk empty. Good, Rachel thought. The less attention to her departure, the better.

  The weather had shifted since last night. Colder, the wind bit through her coat and chilled her skin. She wasted no time getting to Ida’s shop. The bells above the mercantile door jangled as she entered.

  Ida stood behind the counter. She glanced up at her over a stack of canned of peaches. “Morning.”

  Rachel moved down the narrow center row lined with barrels of whiskey and sacks of flour and salt. Above her head hung baskets and dried herbs. “I want to thank you for the dress.”

  Ida’s gaze swept over Rachel, taking in the black dress. “That why you came?”

  “I need to see Sloan about a ride to the mainland.”

  Ida lifted a brow. “I thought you might be staying with us for a while.”

  Rachel’s stomach clenched. “It’s best that I leave.”

  Ida frowned. “All right, I’ll walk you over to his dock as soon as I unpack this box. Have a seat.”

  She clutched her belongings. “If you’ll just show me the way. You don’t have to come.”

  Ida continued to stack cans of peaches, but her voice had an edge to it now. “Have you talked to Ben about this change of heart?”

  “No. He wouldn’t understand.”

  Ida wiped her hands on her apron and came out from behind the counter. “He wants you to stay.”

  Tightness banded around Rachel’s chest. “I know.”

  “He can keep you safe,” Ida said softly.

  Rachel didn’t hide her confusion. “You’ve wanted me to leave from the start. Why the change?”

  Ida stacked another can. “I’ve seen the way Ben looks at you. He’s not looked at another woman like that before. For the last few days, he’s been happy. That means a lot to me.”

  “Ida, someone’s looking for me. He will destroy this town if he finds out you’ve been harboring me.”

  Ida’s gaze was as direct as Ben’s. “Ben has weathered some terrible storms before. He doesn’t scare easily.”

  “This time he should.”

  “This person is no match for Ben.”

  Rachel admired Ida’s pride in Ben. “This person is very powerful.”

  “Don’t underestimate my Ben. He has never run from a fight. In fact, there are times when I wished he had.” Bitterness coated Ida’s words.

  Her shoulders sagged. “Ben deserves more than I can give. I can’t make him any promises. I wish that I could but I can’t.”

  “Ben doesn’t except anything from you.”

  She remembered the kiss. He’d ended it. He wanted more.

  Ida lifted another box onto the counter. She started to unpack it. “So where will you go?”

  Rachel turned and stared out the store’s large, glass front window at the gray sky. At the far end of the town, a group of children walked from the docks. “I don’t know.”

  “Not much of a plan.”

  Children’s laughter rang like church bells. Rachel’s heart tightened. There’d been a time when she’d dreamed of children. But that dream, like all the others, would never be. “As long as I keep moving, I will be safe.”

  “You’ll be a moving target.”

  “I’ve cut my hair and I’ve gotten sun on my face. If I head inland away from the ports, no one will recognize me.”

  “You will stick out wherever you go. Poise and quality are hard to hide.”

  Ida came around the counter toward Rachel. It struck her then that the older woman was shorter than her. Ida possessed an energy that made her seem so much taller. “Sloan just returned from the mainland with the children. But he’ll make a trip back if you wish.”

  Rachel hesitated. Children and parents emerged from the path that led to the Sound. A mother picked up a redheaded girl and swung her around. Both were laughing.

  “Mr. Sloan must have left before dawn.”

  “Folks were anxious to have their children home.”

  “Where were they?”

  “They board on the mainland during the week so they can go to school. Sloan brings them back. They’re getting a good education, but the time from their families is hard on everyone.”

  “My father sent me away to school after my mother died.” Her days away at boarding school had been long and lonely. Because she’d boarded in New York, she’d been unable to come home on the winter and spring holidays, just summers.

  “Ah.” Silence hung between them.

  “Why don’t you have a school in the village?”

  “There’s no one to teach the children. Most of us don’t have the education to teach them properly. We’ve tried to hire teachers but none wish to live in such a bleak place.”

  “This land is rough, but it’s lovely.”

  “I think so, but few outsiders share that opinion.”

  A young boy, no more than six, ran up to his father. The father picked up the boy, hugging him close. Tears glist
ened on the father’s face.

  “How long have the children been gone?” Rachel said.

  “Three weeks.”

  “Why so long?”

  “The weather’s been too bad to risk a crossing.”

  “When will they leave?”

  “If the weather holds, Sunday afternoon.”

  Rachel watched a child cup her mother’s face. Memories of her mother were vague now. Perfume, soft skin, lullabies.

  “Knowing Ben, he will follow you,” Ida said.

  Panic flared inside her. “He wouldn’t!”

  “He would. He has set his mind to protect you.”

  Pride had her lifting her chin. “I don’t want to be taken care of like a child.”

  “Then show some spine, girl. Don’t be a weak-willed ninny.”

  Anger flared. “I’m not weak-willed.”

  Ida met her gaze. “Then take a stand and stay. This is your chance to recapture your life and start over.”

  “I don’t know how to live in this world.”

  “Those details have a way of taking care of themselves. All you have to do now is say yes.”

  Rachel was touched. “Why are you so kind to me?”

  Ida shrugged. “I’m not just doing this for you. I’m thinking of Ben.”

  Footsteps sounded on the boardwalk. The door to the shop jerked open. It was Ben.

  His face was tight with tension, until he saw her standing in the store. He released a breath before he reached for the front door.

  The bells jingled over his head. “I saw you leave,” he said.

  Rachel felt the sweep of emotion as she stared at Ben. His raven hair was wind-blown and his collar upturned.

  “Rachel and I were just having a visit, weren’t we?”

  “Yes,” she said. Like it or not, she couldn’t leave this place now. She was bound to it and to Ben in ways she couldn’t begin to describe.

  Chapter Eleven

  A heavy silence hung between Rachel and Ben as they walked back to the lighthouse. A scowl darkened Ben’s face. Rachel knew Ben was annoyed.

  The reached the lightkeeper’s cottage and stopped at the front steps. He picked a blade of grass and tossed it to the wind. His face was all hard planes.

  “I was leaving because I wanted to protect you.”

  “I don’t need protection, Rachel.” Frustration punctuated his words.

  “So Ida told me.”

  He tilted his head back. His gray eyes took in every detail of her face. “Is that the only reason?”

  She remembered his kiss. “Of course.”

  His eyes narrowed a fraction. “You are a bad liar, Rachel.”

  She blinked, shocked by his candor.

  “You left because of the kiss.”

  She hugged her bundle close to her chest as if it were a shield over her heart. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

  Rachel dropped her gaze. She wasn’t a virgin. There’d been Peter, of course, but the sex between them had been cold and unsatisfying. After her initial fears of the bedroom had passed, Peter had lost interest in her sexually. He’d not come to her room in over eight months.

  She’d been kissed by suitors when she’d made her debut, but no man’s touch had rocked her as Ben’s kiss had. She’d felt it in every sinew of her body.

  Still to talk about such desires out loud felt wanton. “The kiss scared me.”

  Ben’s hand tilted her head up so she looked at him. “Was it distasteful?”

  Heat rushed through her body. “It was quite pleasant. Too pleasant.”

  “You ran because you liked it.”

  “Yes.”

  A hint of a smile borne of masculine pride touched his lips. “There is something between us, Rachel. I’ve felt it and so have you.”

  “That’s the problem.” She spoke so softly.

  He released her chin and traced his knuckle along her jawline. “Why?”

  “Perhaps because I am half starved for affection. I’ve had none in so long. I fear I will drink up whatever you offer. And when I am satisfied, I won’t want you anymore.”

  He took her hand in his. “You are honest. That I appreciate.”

  Honest. She’d not been honest with him. She was a liar and a fraud in so many ways.

  Gently he traced circles on her palm with his callused thumb. “What if I’m willing to take the chance on us?”

  She couldn’t think when he touched her. “I am damaged goods, Ben. I am good to no man anymore.”

  His jaw hardened. “You are afraid, but you are not damaged, Rachel. You are a young, vital woman.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “I feel as if I am one hundred years old.” She tipped her head back. When she’d stemmed the tide of tears, she met his gaze again.

  “This is about your husband.”

  “What?” She could barely breath. “H-he’s dead.”

  “The marriage was bad.”

  “Yes.”

  “But it is over now.”

  “Yes! I will never go back to my old life.”

  He nodded. “As I’ve said, this is a good place to start over.”

  “Is that why you came back after you left the Navy?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened?”

  He shoved out a breath. “Six months had passed since the peace treaty in Appomattox had been signed. Though most of the field commanders knew of the surrender, some of the Confederate sea captains did not.” He straightened his shoulders. “I was in command of a warship bound for England with a load of delegates—both American and British. The whole trip was designed to show the Brits we were a united country again, the war was over. We were in the North Atlantic when we spotted a ship on the horizon. It was the C.S.S. Alabama. I knew her commander was a shrewd man and a great fighter. I’d heard he’d not surrendered. An American delegate aboard—Mr. Martin—ordered that we approach the Alabama. I didn’t want to, knowing the risks. However, Mr. Martin insisted. I’d been told before we left port to obey his orders.

  “I alerted my first officer to ready the guns and then we turned about to an intercept course. As we approached the Alabama, she fired on us. I didn’t hesitate to fire back. The lives of my men and passengers were at stake and I wasn’t going to stand by and let my ship go down. We chased off the Alabama, but the incident infuriated Mr. Martin. He’d been humiliated in front of the Brits. He filed charges when we hit port.” Ben shrugged. “I was court-martialed.”

  “That wasn’t fair.”

  “Who ever said life was supposed to be fair?”

  She suspected he underplayed his feelings. He wasn’t the kind of man who swallowed injustice well. “The time had come for me to leave, anyway. I’d done all I could do in the Navy. They didn’t need warriors anymore. They needed diplomats. I’m not known for my subtlety.”

  So she’d noticed. “You are not sorry you were forced to leave?”

  “I am home now. This is where I belong.”

  They stood inches apart in silence for several minutes. A flock of seagulls flew overhead, squawking as they circled. The wind rustled the sea oats on the dunes. The tang of the ocean hung in the air.

  He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. Standing here with him, she didn’t feel lost. She felt as if she could conquer any obstacle.

  Ben was so close, all she had to do was to lean forward and her lips would touch his. Desire, not fear, drove her this time. She craved the taste of him; wanted to feel his arms wrapped around her again.

  “I’m finished running,” she said.

  He squeezed her hand. “Good.”

  Rachel spent a restless day and night. Ben had been on duty and she’d tossed and turned, unable to fall into a deep sleep.

  She’d dreamed of teaching the children. Of living here on the outer banks with Ben. And of monsters….

  At dawn she had awoken, unable to spend another hour in bed. She’d made tea and sliced a piece of day-old bread. Once she’d cleaned up, there was nothing to do. S
he looked around the lightkeeper’s cottage, peeking into closets and closed-off rooms.

  She perused Ben’s collection of books, still in crates in the parlor. She even found a couple of books that held interest. She curled up on the sofa in front of the fire and opened a book.

  She read the first line. Her attention wandered and she skipped to the next paragraph. Before she realized it, she’d leafed through fifty or so pages without having read a word.

  Frustrated, Rachel closed the book and rose. She paced the parlor. Her restlessness grew and she found the walls of the cottage starting to shrink around her.

  She had to get out.

  Fear wasn’t motivating her as she grabbed her coat. Annoyance was.

  She had the freedom to choose, to live her life now as she pleased and yet she stayed hidden in this cottage.

  She shoved her arms into the sleeves of her coat. “I’m not going to keep doing this to myself. I need to live my life.”

  Rachel went outside. She’d go to the village and be among people. She wasn’t sure what she intended to do once she got to town. There’d been a time when she’d been completely at ease with strangers; she could walk into a room and strike up a conversation with anyone. But in the last year, she’d fallen out of practice. She’d all but forgotten how to talk to people.

  She enjoyed the walk into the village. The cold breeze flapped her skirts as she savored the crisp air and azure sky. This was a fickle land. Already she’d learned that the weather changed without warning here.

  The sound of children laughing trickled through the tall thicket of bushes aligning the path. Rachel stopped, smiling.

  “Johnny is it!” cried a young girl. “Johnny, you must count to ten while we hide now!”

  Johnny mumbled something about cheaters, but soon she could hear him counting, “One, two…”

  Peals of laughter mingled with the thud of feet against the sandy earth. “Don’t peek,” a girl shouted.

  “You always peek, Johnny Freely,” another girl squealed.

  Rachel started to move silently down the path, not wanting to disturb their game. Just hearing them bolstered her spirits.

  She came to the edge of the pathway, which opened onto a small clearing dotted by shrubs. A wind-bent tree stood in the center of the field. There she saw a young boy, not more than seven. He had red hair, a worn shirt, and jacket and pants that were two inches too short. He had dirty hands over his eyes and he peeked between his index and pinky fingers. He counted, “Seven, eight…