The Lightkeeper

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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.”

She blew out an exasperated breath and came toward him, her feet clumsy in the oversize India-rubber boots he’d lent her. “A walk isn’t just walking,” she said with a magnificent lack of logic. “It’s talking and sharing.”

“I don’t do things like that.” He turned and trudged down the hill.

They 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.