Tide and Tempest (Edge of Freedom Book #3) (30 page)

The week since Douglas’s confession and capture had dragged by as long and slow as a wet Sunday. Combined with a steady drenching of summer rain, it seemed the days would never end—except that with each passing hour, Cass grew stronger and the distance between Tillie and Keondric grew greater.

She released a heavy sigh as she pressed her forehead to the damp, cloudy glass of her bedroom windowpane. Cass had said that given time, things would right themselves. The problem was, time was a luxury she no longer possessed. Tomorrow morning the
Caitriona Marie
would set sail for the Carolinas, and Keondric would be gone forever.

She closed her eyes against the sorrow accompanying the thought. How long ago it seemed that she’d made the decision to put her fate into God’s hands, only then she’d never imagined that same choice might mean losing the man she loved.

“I’m trying, Lord,” she whispered. “Help me to keep believing.”

A soft knock sounded on her door. She left the window and went to answer, surprised to see Cass standing on her threshold, wearing a humble grin. “Did I disturb you?”

She shook her head. “I was just about to go downstairs to help Laverne with the tea. Will you walk with me?”

He stuck out his elbow in answer. Tillie happily took it.

He glanced at her sidelong. “I suppose you’ve begun making plans for the orphanage?”

“Aye, I’ve an appointment for the day after tomorrow to meet with the bank. I’m still not certain how I’ll afford to run the place once it’s open.” She shrugged and forced a light laugh. “I guess some things are best left to God.”

He made a face she could only describe as peculiar. They reached the bottom of the stairs, but instead of turning for the kitchen, Cass hesitated. “Tillie, have you spoken with Morgan since the other night?”

She looked away, hoping to hide a pang of hurt. “We’ve spoken, but not privately. Why do you ask?”

He shook his head slowly, and his eyes took on a sad hue. “Devilish hard getting anything through that thick head of his. Can I ask you something? And will you give me your word you’ll speak the truth?”

“I’ll say as much as I am able. As for true or no, I would never lie to you, Cass. You know that.”

He smiled. “I suppose I do. But this . . .” His chest rose and fell as he sucked in a breath. Her hand still rested on the newel. He covered it with his own. “I asked you once if you loved me.” A flush rose to her cheeks. “No, Tillie, please listen.”

She nodded for him to continue.

“The reason you could never love me, was it because you’d already fallen in love with someone else?”

So much sorrow brimmed in the depths of his eyes, she could not help but be moved. She pulled her hand from under his to caress his rough cheek. “You will always be dear to me, Cass, but more than that?” She shook her head. “How could I love you when I’d already fallen so deeply in love with your brother?”

His shoulders slumped as he smiled. Catching her hand
when she went to pull away, he placed a kiss on the back of it. “Thank you for telling me.” He drew away yet continued to watch her with an almost quizzical gleam in his eye. “I’ll miss you, Tillie McGrath. Kilarny was right—you’re braver than the rest of us combined.”

Rather than walking her to the kitchen, he headed for the door.

“Cass, wait. How did you know?” Tillie called.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he gave her a small salute, stepped outside, and disappeared from view.

The creaking of the
Caitriona Marie
’s timbers had always been a soothing sound to Morgan’s ears. Today, with the wind lashing outside and the rain continuing to fall, it felt more like solitary keening. Or perhaps it was the idea that tomorrow he’d be leaving Tillie forever that had him feeling so melancholy.

He sighed and sank into his father’s old chair. It would be different not having Cass on board. His little brother didn’t know it yet, but the
Marie
would be setting sail without him—had to sail without him, if he and Tillie were ever to have a chance at a happy life.

Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out the advertisement from the land-office window. He wished he could see her face when the man at the bank told her the purchase had already been made in her name.

An old, familiar ache filled him as he spread the page on the table and carefully smoothed out the wrinkles. He could imagine the place with young smiling faces filling all the windows, and a garden for Tillie where she could plant things to grow for her kitchen.

With Cass there by her side, he reminded himself grimly.

It had to be Cass. Hadn’t he witnessed for himself how much closer they’d grown over the past week? But that had only happened when he’d put his own selfish desires aside and moved out of their way.

Aye, it would be Cass. He and Tillie would build a life together. And he? He would do what he’d always done. He would take care of his brother.

Pushed by a gust of wind, the door to his cabin burst open and Cass staggered in, his clothes slicked to his back and rain dripping off the bill of his cap. Rising, Morgan helped him drag it closed, then eyed the puddle forming around Cass’s feet.

Morgan reached for a towel. “What are you doing here? I figured you’d be at the boardinghouse.” He tossed the towel to his brother.

Cass grinned and snatched it from the air.

“Looks like you’re feeling better.”

“That I am, and anxious to get sailing, too. Feel the wind in me hair and the waves beneath me feet.” He ducked under the towel and rubbed the dampness from his hair. “So, how goes the stocking? Bozey said we’re packing lighter supplies than normal.”

Morgan shrugged. “Aye, well, we’re more shorthanded than normal, too.”

Finished with his hair, Cass draped the towel around his neck and began stripping off his shirt. “I suppose you’re right. We’re short Doc and Donal, after all. Still, do you think it’s wise not to carry the extra food?”

Squaring his shoulders, Morgan turned and faced his brother. “The lighter load means we’ll make faster time.”

Cass appeared to ponder that, then gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I guess.” Slinging his soaked shirt over the back of a chair, he sat down and laced his fingers behind his head. “I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Morgan knew his brother well enough to realize there was something swirling about in that wet head of his. Could it be he’d already figured out the plan to leave him behind? He reclined against the table and crossed one ankle over the other. “What exactly do you mean by that? Far as I know, I’m still the captain of this ship.”

Cass straightened, and Morgan couldn’t help but glance at the puckered scar left on his shoulder. Following his gaze, Cass sighed. “When are you going to stop making me your responsibility, Morgan? Haven’t you learned anything from the things that happened? You should know better than anyone, you kinna control people’s lives. Only God can do that, and I’m fairly certain He doesn’t need your help.”

Frowning, Morgan turned aside. He had learned that too well, in fact. “What do you want from me, Cass? You obviously have something to say or you wouldn’t be here. So how ’bout you get on with it?”

“Fine.”

Removing the towel from around his shoulders, Cass tossed it to the floor and stood glaring at Morgan, his hands on his hips, his legs braced and feet planted. With a couple of days’ growth of beard on his face, and the scar on his shoulder, he looked a proper pirate—and right at home on the
Caitriona Marie
.

“You know where I just came from?” he demanded.

“The boardinghouse?”

“Tillie, that’s where. I was talking to Tillie, and I’ll have you know she’s about as torn apart by your leaving as I imagine she was the day you first brought her to the boardinghouse.”

All mirth disappeared. Morgan shoved off the table. “What are you talking about?”

Cass nodded. “Aye, that’s right, only she’s not letting it show because she’s too noble, and too . . .” He scowled.
“Well, I was going to say
brave
, but maybe it’s not that at all. Maybe she’s just as stubborn and pigheaded as you are.”

“Watch it, Cass.”

He laughed and wagged his finger in Morgan’s face. “Ach, that’s it. There it is. And you’re honestly trying to convince me you dinna care for her? Take a look in the mirror, big brother. ’Tis written all over your face.”

He no longer wanted to hide the truth. Clenching his teeth, Morgan started to turn away.

Cass quickly crossed to him. “She loves you, Morgan. She always has. I know you hoped it was me she loved, but that’s not how this works.” He clasped Morgan’s shoulder, and for the first time they looked at each other eye to eye, as equals. “Besides,” Cass continued, “this ship was never your dream. Now, Tillie and that farm she’s had her eye on for so long? That’s your dream. The question is, what are you going to do about it?”

What indeed? Morgan hesitated, looking up and then down as if to study the ship’s dark beams above his head to the wooden planks below his feet. In one sense, Cass was right. The
Marie
had never been his dream. But could he just walk away from everything their father had labored so long to build?

“I loved him too, Morgan,” Cass said quietly. “But it be my turn now. I’ll take good care of Ma and the
Marie
.”

His hand fell away from Morgan’s shoulder, and with it the burden he’d borne for so long a time.

Cass seemed to sense his answer, for a smile parted his lips. Spinning on his heel, he swung out the door, a merry lilt to his voice as he hollered, “Bozey, get up here! There’s been a change of plans.”

Though the storm still howled and the driving rain appeared to have swollen in intensity, Tillie could no longer bear to stay cooped up behind the boardinghouse walls. Indeed, the wailing wind seemed to call to her, speaking to her in a way only her own troubled spirit could understand.

Grabbing her cape, she tossed it around her shoulders and stepped outside into the pounding rain. Her head she left bare, preferring the cold and shock of the weather against her hair and skin to the thrumming ache she’d been unable to loose for almost a week now.

She turned north, away from the harbor, for though she longed for a glimpse of Keondric, to see the vessel that would carry him away would be a torture too excruciating to bear.

How far she walked, she didn’t know. She moved with no sense of purpose, no clear direction, and only drew to a halt when she stood in front of the land office and its dark, empty window.

Empty, except for the ghostly reflection of a bedraggled woman whose pain-filled eyes she dared not meet.

She blinked, as if by closing her eyes she might change the stark image staring back at her. Instead, it only reinforced what deep down she already knew.

Someone had bought the house.

The orphanage—the children whose faces she could picture but whose names she did not yet know—all hope of it crumbled, leaving behind a raw, gaping hole where her heart had been. Tears began to flow, mingling with the rain running down her cheeks.

She threw her head back, her fingers pulling at the sodden cape digging at her neck, but even that barely alleviated the choking stranglehold. Drawing free the knot that held the strings, she let the cape fall to the ground, then stood unmoving as the rain and tears washed her clean.

“Tillie!”

Her chest heaving, she looked around for the source of the voice. Blurred by the rain, a hazy figure moved toward her. At first, she dared not hope the lean body, the broad shoulders and proud head could belong to Keondric. But then he was there, his own eyes red and streaked by the rain.

He grabbed her cape from the ground and threw it around her shoulders. “What are you doing?”

So loud was the rhythm of the rain, he shouted.

Tillie shook her head. “How . . . how did you find me?” she shouted back.

He looked up at the sky and then threw his arm about her shoulders and hurried with her to the shelter of the awning over the land-office window. The storm was only slightly muffled there, but at least she could see his beloved face.

Stripping off his coat, he added it to the cape covering her shoulders.

“What are you doing out here?” he demanded, his breath forming a puffy cloud. “Are you trying to catch your death?”

She shivered. “No, I . . . How did you find me?” she asked again.

He was only inches from her, his nearness and the heat from his body closing out the storm. “I went by the boardinghouse. They told me you’d gone. Somehow I knew I’d find you here.”

She said nothing, choosing instead to soak up the sight of his damp lashes clinging so perfectly together, his hair, wet and flattened to his head, his mouth . . .

“They sold the house,” she said, pushing the words through lips numb with cold. “The picture’s gone.”

Keondric puffed out a breath. “I know.”

“You know?”

Every breath, every gesture and word, seemed precious. He nodded toward his coat, his lips curving in one of his beautiful smiles. “Check the pocket.”

Though her fingers shook, she managed to wrest the mangled piece of paper out. It was the advertisement for the house.

She peered up at him. “I dinna understand.”

A look so tender melted over his face, her breath caught.

“I bought it for you,” he said.

“You”—she shook her head—“you did what?”

“But I’ve changed my mind.” Clasping her hands, he drew them to his mouth and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her fingers. “I dinna want you to live there alone, Tillie. I want to live there with you. I want to help you run the orphanage, even add a few children of our own. . . .”

He stopped, and she knew he was working up the courage to continue.

“Tillie, I love you. I would do . . . anything for you. And I would like nothing more than to spend the rest of my life making you happy, if you’ll have me.”

For several heart-pounding seconds, she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe for fear of ravaging the blessing that had
brought Keondric to her. Confusion flashed across his face, and she knew she had to speak, to somehow force the words out.

“I love you, too.” She drew a shuddering breath. “More than I ever thought I’d love anyone again.” Fresh tears burned her eyes, but this time they were tears of happiness. “More than that, I never dreamed, never dared hope that you or . . .
anyone
would care for me the way Braedon . . .”

The tension drained from his face. Dipping his head, he placed a kiss to her lips that drove away the doubt and guilt that had plagued her for so long. When at last he pulled away, she knew, finally, she’d found a love that would last forever.

“So,” he rasped, his voice thick with emotion, “can you live with others calling you Mrs. Morgan for the rest of your life?”

Tillie laughed, joy such as she’d thought never again to know bubbling up from deep inside. Reaching up to stroke his cheek, she nodded. “Aye, Captain, I believe I can.”