The Lightkeeper. Susan Wiggs
Читать онлайн книгу.
the sand from his horse’s hooves and coat. “She says her name is Mary Dare and that she has no family.” He decided to conceal the fact that Mary had been a stowaway. He needed to learn more about the situation before he went trumpeting that about. For all he knew, he had given shelter to a thief or a murderess.
Or a hapless woman on the run from something she would not name.
“It’ll be hard for her, then, to be alone in the world,” Fiona said.
He turned D’Artagnan out to pasture. “Will it?”
“You don’t think so?”
“Come on, Fiona.”
Her gaze skated over him from head to toe. “Some people prefer human companionship. Crave it, even. I suppose you can’t understand that.” Showing nothing in the way of sympathy, Fiona patted him briskly on the cheek. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re the best-looking man in the Territory, Jesse Morgan?”
“No.” He scowled furiously.
Fiona smiled. “That sort of thing matters to some women.”
“But not to you.”
She sent him a mischievous wink. “Hardly.”
That was one of the reasons Jesse tolerated her. There was nothing Fiona wanted from him.
They walked together toward the house. “She claims she has no family. I assume that means no husband?” the doctor asked.
“That’s what she said.”
“Mmm.” Fiona’s voice held no judgmental tone. Jesse liked her for that. “That’ll be harder still, then.”
“Now that she can get around, you’ll be taking her into town. Get her settled and—”
“We mustn’t be hasty.” She preceded him into the house and set her bag on the kitchen table. Together, they went into the little bedroom.
Jesse’s breath caught, air hooking painfully into his chest. Mary Dare slept in the sunlight atop Palina’s quilts. She still wore the green-and-yellow dress.
Later, Jesse. I’ll take it off for you later. We have plenty of time…. His dead wife’s voice whispered in his ear, and he shook his head, forcing himself to look at Mary Dare.
The light caught at her hair and limned the porcelain delicacy of her skin. Beneath her eyes, circles of fatigue bruised the fragile skin. Despite the meal to which she’d helped herself, she looked gaunt and frail.
“She’s weak as a kitten,” Fiona whispered. “I’ll not be dragging her down the bluff to town in this condition.”
Jesse cleared his throat. “But—”
“She’s staying.” Fiona clamped her hands at her hips and jutted her chin up at him. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Yes.”
“Then get over it, Jesse. For once in your life, think of someone besides yourself!”
Mary Dare flinched in her sleep.
“Sorry,” Fiona muttered. “You’re a vexing man, Jesse Morgan.”
“I’ll look after her until week’s end,” he said. The words tasted sour on his tongue. “And not a minute longer.”
Stung by Fiona’s triumphant smile, he stalked out of the room.
“How are you feeling this morning?” Jesse asked. Even to his own ears, his voice sounded rusty, like a hinge on an unused gate.
Mary Dare’s smile made the sun seem dim. “Hungry,” she confessed, stepping into the kitchen. The green dress was wrinkled in the back and her hair was sleep-tousled, heavy waves draping her shoulders.
“There’s bacon.” He pointed. “And Palina’s cardamom bread. Coffee?”
“I’ll have a glass of milk, if there is any.”
“There’s always milk. The Jonssons keep a cow.”
“That’s lovely. And when shall I be meeting the Jonssons?”
“Soon. They’re on duty at the lighthouse.”
“What are they doing there? I don’t see a speck of fog.”
“Cleaning the equipment. They’ll be done soon.” He watched her eat and drink. Though not gluttonous, she consumed the bacon and bread with efficiency and relish. Expectant mothers needed plenty of good, fresh food. Fiona had told him so. But, of course, that wasn’t the first time he’d heard that advice.
“Jesse, darling, I have the most marvelous news!” Emily had breezed into his study, a vision of frothy white against the walnut-and-leather backdrop of his library shelves. “I’ve just been to the doctor, and he confirmed it. You’re going to be a papa!”
He shook off the memory and waited patiently for Mary to finish. She looked better today. Better every moment, in fact. Her pallor seemed less alarmingly pasty. Her eyes were bright, almost eager, and the dark circles were fading.
Excellent, he thought. Get her well enough to make the trip to town, and he could be rid of her. Free. Alone. That was all he wanted.
“Can I make you some tea?” he asked. “Dr. MacEwan left an infusion that’s supposed to aid in digestion.”
“I believe my digestion’s fine,” she remarked with a wink.
That smile. It was brutal in its simple, dazzling beauty. It hammered at him like a fist.
When she finished her breakfast, he whisked away the dishes and washed them in the sink. Over his shoulder, he said, “Do you need to go to your room and rest?”
“I’d like to take a walk.”
“You’ll tire yourself.”
“Just a little walk, mind. The fresh air will do me good, don’t you think?”
Jesse seized on the idea. Anything to get her to feeling better. Anything to get her away from him. She had no idea how each moment he spent in her presence drilled at him, disturbed him in ways he didn’t want to be disturbed.
“We’ll go to the strand.” He turned toward her. “There’s a way down that’s not too steep.”
Her smile lanced through him again, warm sunbeams thawing frozen flesh until it ached. “I’d like that, Jesse,” she said.
This was for her, he told himself as he put one of Palina’s knitted shawls around her shoulders, awkwardly tying it in the front. Mary stood like a docile child, watching him. Trusting him.
The fresh air was going to help her feel better, and when she felt better, she could leave. That was why he was doing this.
When they were halfway down the rock-strewn track, she called his name. He stopped and turned. “Is it too much for you?” he asked, feeling a touch of dread. What if he had to carry her again? To hold her close and feel her warmth and the beating of her heart? “Do you need to go back?”
“No. It’s not that. Jesse?”
“What is it?”
“You’ve been more than kind to me, and sure I’m the last person to criticize, but could I just be pointing out one small thing?”
“What?”
“It occurs to me that you’re not accustomed to walking with a companion.”
He snorted. “Of all the—”
“It’s true. You march along like a parade marshal. When two people walk together, they generally go side by side.”
“We’re not together,” he said. “You said you wanted a walk, so we’re walking.”