The Lightkeeper. Susan Wiggs
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crossed the grassy dunes and came to a long strand of sandy beach. He turned and watched her, walking backward. “Look, I’m sorry you’re alone. But if you expect companionship from me, you’re bound to be disappointed.”
“It would take a lot more than that to disappoint me,” she said.
Her statement piqued his curiosity, but he thrust it aside. He didn’t want to know what had disappointed her in the past. He didn’t want to know what she dreamed about for the future.
“I live alone by choice,” he said gruffly. “I don’t want a companion.”
Her eyes widened, but she nodded. “You didn’t ask to save me. No doubt if you’d had a choice, you never would have come down on the beach and found me that day.”
Damn it. Was wishing her out of his life the same as wishing he’d never found her? “Mary—”
She held up a hand. “I understand. Now, let us have our walk.” She tossed back her head and let the wind blow through her hair. “It’s cold here.”
“Take my coat.”
She shook her head. “The shawl’s enough. I’ll be rid of these boots, though. I love the feel of the sand beneath my feet.” Before he could protest, she kicked off the boots.
“Put those back on,” Jesse said. “Your feet will freeze, and then I’ll be stuck with you even longer.”
“A fate worse than death, I’m sure.” Her dainty feet barely made an impression on the hard-packed sand as she walked.
And for no reason he cared to examine, Jesse found himself walking beside her. Stubborn female. She should be eager to get away from him. In the past, his growling and snarling had effectively kept other women at a distance. This one had no respect for the iron in his soul.
“This place is truly the edge of the world,” said Mary. With an easy movement, she slipped her arm through his.
The shock of the contact jolted him like a physical blow. His muscles turned to stone. Perhaps she felt some measure of the intensity, for her cheeks flushed with color. “Is something the matter?”
He glared at her hand. “Don’t—”
“I forgot.” She extracted her arm. “You don’t like being touched.” She headed northward on the beach with her face into the sea breeze. The wind sheared down from the towering forested cliffs, causing tears to gather in the corners of her eyes.
He thought of offering her a handkerchief, but stopped himself. She glanced sideways at him, her glorious red hair swirling on the wind. Chagrined that she had caught him studying her, he hunched his shoulders and pulled his hat over his brow.
She stopped when she came to a huge, twisted piece of driftwood. She studied it for a moment, observing the whorls in the grain, the deep gashes and cracks, the holes bored into it by worms. Without saying a word, she wandered on. A few feet from the log lay a scattering of shells, all broken and crushed, some with slimy green weed clinging to them. He saw her shudder, and she quickened her pace.
Jesse wondered what she was thinking. Was she remembering the shipwreck? The father of her baby? He had so many questions to ask her. Yet he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to know the hopes and dreams that filled the head of Mary Dare.
Because the more he knew about her, the more real she became to him. All he wanted to know was how soon he could get her to a better place than his house.
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