Two
With a cool cloth pressed to her burning cheek Cadence flopped across the soft quilts of her bed, totally devastated. Abuse had become as regular an occurrence in her household as taking breakfast or getting dressed in the morning. Gazing through her window and into the darkened sky she couldn’t help but think that any life must be better than this. She would be nineteen next week. The day marked a personal milestone that she hoped would give her the courage and strength to escape.
Letting heavy lids drift closed she allowed her thoughts to wander until she drifted into the blissful oblivion of sleep. In slumber she stood along the heavy oak rail of a ship and breathed deep of the salty ocean spray. Her curls danced in wild disarray with the blustery sea breeze and she felt content… happy...
Cadence woke slowly basking in the bright rays of the morning sun. Slowly she rose and set her feet quietly on the wooden floorboards, watching small prisms of sunlight dance about the room. Reaching arms high above her head she stretched thoroughly before getting ready to leave the house for work. Morning was always a peaceful time for the Jamison household. Mike usually slept off the result of his libations until the late hours of the morning, and her mother simply ignored her presence as much as was possible so Cadence would be able to enjoy a leisurely morning before departing the house to the seamstress’ shop.
After donning a simple pink cotton day gown and styling her hair into a practical coiffure Cadence gazed at her appearance in the mirror. What would Curtis Langston think? flitted unexpectedly through her mind and she shook her head with a wry smile. The dashing young sea captain was far too busy living a life of adventure to give her a second thought
After a quick breakfast Cadence wrapped a woolen shawl about her shoulders and stepped into the chill air. Charleston hummed with activity and she tripped contentedly through the streets darting in and out of alleyways, expertly negotiating her way through the historic city. She turned in some surprise at the sound of someone calling her name and stood stock still in the middle of the street as it dawned on her that the tall man waving from across the way was none other than Curtis Langston. A warm blush crept into her cheeks as she turned to face him. “Good morning, Captain. How are you?”
Curtis stopped before her and a genuine lopsided grin traversed his sun bronzed face as, lifting his arms in a casual gesture he said, “I didn’t think I was ever going to catch up to you! I’ve been chasing you since Broadstreet.”
She felt her eyes widen and fought the intensifying heat creeping up her neck and into her face as she was struck by his blatantly virile form. “Chasing me?” She shook her head in disbelief. “Why would you wish to chase me?”
The man was flawless. Really, his athletic frame could have been chiseled from granite to resemble that of Adonis. And when he moved… he did so with a quiet power and urgency only men who courted the sea possessed. He even smelled of the sea. And as always, clad in a blue knit sweater which clung all too provocatively to his lean frame, he looked more devilishly handsome than any man had a right to. Even a mind as unschooled as Cadence’s dared to dream what lay beneath. And his eyes, oh his eyes! Cadence had looked into the signature blue of a Langston nigh a hundred times, but when Curtis pegged her with that stare her insides positively quivered. The hue was so intensely blue, like ice or blue sky reflected from a fresh white snow.
* * *
Curtis tilted his head to the side watching as a single golden ringlet slipped from her upsweep, bounced enticingly across her cheek, and then fell gracefully to frame the gentle slope of her neck. Her hair tempted him. Fate taunted him. The forces of the universe dangled an oh, so tantalizing feast before him as if he were a chained and starving dog. He knew he couldn’t have it, didn’t deserve it—it being her of course—but that didn’t stop him from wanting nothing more than to reach out and twist that soft curl around his finger. It seemed such an innocent thing to want to touch something so soft and silken, but ultimately it would be his undoing.
He cleared his throat. “I, uh…” What had he wanted? “I wanted to check on you after last night.” He rocked back on his heels and looked directly into her pale eyes.
Oh, God, help him. He was lost.
These were without doubt the loveliest eyes he’d ever seen.
He’d never given much thought or notice to the color of her eyes before, he’d never had a reason, but he supposed he’d thought them some shade of blue or perhaps green. Closer inspection revealed those huge pale eyes were not blue at all but a glowing violet hue that turned almost purple when the sunlight hit them at just the right angle. She was a classic beauty in any man’s book but with those eyes, the only description to come close would be… ethereal. Oh, yes the fates were cruel indeed.
“I’m forever grateful to you, sir.” Her voice penetrated the haze his thoughts had descended into, but only so much that his gaze was drawn to her lips. Full. Pink. Kissable lips. “You came to my rescue on the docks in the nick of time last night.”
For a long moment he was silent as his head tilted ever so slightly to the opposite side, his gaze roamed freely over her face, and then their eyes locked. Transfixed.
“Well,” he began slowly, waiting for his thoughts to clear, “I was actually talking about your father. He looked pretty angry.”
He watched as Cadence unwittingly tugged the sleeve of her gown over the dark bruise encircling her wrist.
Without a word he reached for her hand pulling the cuff back, revealing the brutal imprint upon her pale skin. God, but striking a woman was a thing he would never understand. Any man who raised a hand to a woman was too much a coward to find a real fight. And now he really felt like a bastard because he’d been there, and he should have stopped it.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, the words sounding lame and damn hollow to his ears. Carefully he reached out to brush that one tantalizing curl off her cheek. He knew the strongest urge to protect her, which made the fact that he hadn’t all the more difficult to bear. And just now when he’d seen the innocence stripped from her eyes the pang of guilt had nearly consumed him. Please, not her. Cadence had a presence that radiated all that was sweet and good in life. He’d find a way to make it up to her. He had to. Clearing his throat he pulled his hand back. “May I walk you to work? You are on your way to work?”
* * *
“Yes, I’m off to Mrs. Bridger’s seamstress shop. I would very much appreciate your company the rest of the way.” She suppressed a giggle as he turned to the side and held an arm out for her. The gesture was almost imperceptible as he merely cocked an elbow to the side but she wasn’t about to pass on the opportunity.
Slipping her fingers ever so gently within the cook of his elbow she was not prepared for how rock hard his arm was. This was not a man afraid of a hard day’s labor, raw strength and power emanated from every sinew, and from the corner of her eye she admired his profile, allowing her mind to trail into dangerous territory. His shoulders were broad and thick with powerfully corded muscle wrapping and bulging along his arms and chest. Even beneath the thick blue sweater his muscular frame was easily discerned. Swallowing almost convulsively she struggled to keep her thoughts pure and ladylike. “Um, tell me Captain, when will you be setting sail again?”
“Next Monday,” he replied, sounding a little stiff.
“Where will you be going?”
“Europe. We’ll make port in London, Belfast, and probably Portugal and Spain to do some trading before we sail back to Charleston.”
“A trip like that will take several months won’t it?”
Curtis nodded. “It also depends on the weather and how the winter storms affect the trade routes.”
Cadence looked up wistfully. “It sounds wonderful. I’ve always wanted to travel. In fact if I’d been born a boy I would have sailed all over the world to exotic places.” She blushed, embarrassed to have shared with him what she’d never spoken aloud before.
A short burst of laughter escaped him as a smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. “I understand completely.”
Cadence paused waiting for him to elaborate.
He didn’t.
And for a long moment they walked on in silence, but it was a comfortable sort of silence, companionable.
“I too dreamed of going to sea,” he said finally, “but my father wanted all of us to keep up the family plantation. During the war I realized that I had less than no desire to become a planter and decided my father could be damned if he didn’t like it.” Turning to her he nodded an almost shy apology. “I’m sorry, Miss Jamison, I didn’t mean to curse in front of you, again.” He shrugged his shoulders and flashed a wry half smile. “Sailor’s tongue and all that.”
Cadence waved her hand in dismissal. “I’ve heard worse, Captain Langston, of that I can assure you.” Walking arm and arm down the street with Curtis Langston she was not immune to the stares she received from those they passed on the street. And for the first time she thought about him. Actually considered Curtis for who he was.
He was certainly nothing like the other Langston men she’d met in Charleston. The coveted Langstons as her mother oft referred to them. Every parent in Charleston if not all of South Carolina hoped their daughters would one day marry a Langston, and quite frankly who could blame them. With a U.S. Marshal, a doctor, a shipping captain, and a wealthy plantation owner these men were not to go unnoticed—or unpursued—as the case may be.
Cadence had never felt much personal interest in the Langstons because those she’d met were typically dressed to the nines and though genuinely kind and good looking to a fault—really, it should be a sin to look as good as they did—there was an air of superiority about them that at times made her feel… small, inferior even.
While Curtis had inherited every ounce of the Langston looks he definitely had a different sort of charm. This was a man totally oblivious to his own rugged appeal. His clothing was worn, his hair was just a bit too long by the standards of fashion, he rarely wore a hat, and his skin was bronzed by long hours in the sun. One could sail each of the seven seas and never find his equal. Curtis could beguile a flock of women without ever being the wiser. And if he was the wiser he was remarkably skilled at hiding it.
Simply put, Curtis lacked the arrogant attitude sometimes displayed by his father and brothers. And to pass him on the street one would never guess he was a rich and powerful shipping lord; one would be far more inclined to believe him a young wandering rogue.
And in some ways perhaps he was.
“You should travel abroad sometime.” Curtis flashed an encouraging smile though she couldn’t help but note a bit of its luster had faded. Pity. There had lived a day when a mischievous grin had never been absent from his face. “And call me Curtis. We’ve known each other for years.”
Pleased, she inclined her head and responded in the like. “Well, Curtis, unfortunately travel requires funds and funds are a thing in which I am sorely lacking.
“You have a job,” he stated with a degree of careless dismissal, “take a trip.” As soon as the words were out she saw him cringe. “I’m sorry, that was a callous thing to say, I realize it isn’t as easy as that. I have a habit of speaking out of turn. It’s gotten me into a fair amount of trouble over the years.”
“I know,” she smiled forgivingly. “But don’t worry.” He couldn’t realize the extent to which her family needed her income. “Someday I will travel. One day I’ll have a grand adventure.”
“I’m sure you will.”
The seamstress shop lay just ahead and she was entirely too disappointed to see the pleasant interlude come to a close. How would it feel to linger with him just a little longer? They mounted the stone steps together and Cadence turned to smile in thanks.
* * *
The smile Cadence bestowed upon him was undoubtedly the most brilliant he’d ever seen and for a moment Curtis was certain heaven opened its gate just enough to let a glimmer of light shimmer upon the mere mortals and sinners. For half a heartbeat he dared to believe she was one of the lost angels his grandmother had so oft spoke of, surely she was one of them, fallen from the heavens adrift on the earth to help lost souls find their way. No one had ever smiled at him that way, and when she plied him with those huge amethyst eyes he wasn’t just lost…
He was wrecked.
Oh, but she shouldn’t look at him that way, as though he were some sort of hero, because he wasn’t. She shouldn’t look at him with all the innocent trust in the world glistening at the surface of her eyes because it was downright dangerous. And it was dangerous because even though he knew he shouldn’t, he liked having her look at him that way. He wanted it. Craved it. Deep down in the farthest reaches of his soul he wanted to be her white knight, and it made him remember a time when he’d been honorable. It made him want a whole world of things he couldn’t begin to dream of having for himself.
* * *
Looking into his eyes Cadence felt frozen, trapped, there was something glistening beneath the surface which gave her pause. Something dangerous, exhilarating… forbidden.
He stared with such intensity she began to wonder if she knew him at all. Until this moment she hadn’t realized how guarded his eyes were. When had he come to look so serious? The Curtis Langston she’d known was a man brimming with devilish humor and such mischief she’d often wondered if there was a serious bone in his body.
Ever so slowly Curtis raised a hand to slide a thumb across her cheek and down her chin to rest it gently in the cleft below her lip.
She stopped breathing.
His hand was deliciously rough and masculine from long days at sea and for an immeasurable space of time she dared not move or draw breath lest the moment be broken and he leave. She did not want him to leave.
Tilting her chin upward his lips parted and she would have sworn he leaned into her just a bit.
“Good morning Cadence.”
The moment shattered.
Both of them jumped and turned to see Mrs. Bridger approaching the shop with her first fitting appointment of the day, none other than Kathleen Morris— formerly known as the dreaded Miss Watson—and Charleston’s most notorious gossip.
“Curtis Langston!” Mrs. Morris practically gushed his name, and canted her head, casting an arch look over him. “It certainly has been a long time.”
Curtis groaned aloud and gave the woman a curt nod of acknowledgement. “I’m sure it will never be quite long enough, Miss Watson.”
“It is Mrs. Morris now,” she corrected him, though her smile never faltered cool eyes swept his tall frame… assessing him.
“Oh, so poor Archie is the bast—” Cadence swiftly elbowed him in the ribs, cutting his jibe short. Mrs. Morris narrowed her eyes, she knew exactly what he’d been about to say. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d insulted her thus.
“Heavens, Curtis, aren’t we beyond such childishness? A true gentleman would never speak that way to a lady.”
“Pity I haven’t come into my own as a gentleman yet. A true shame for the ladies.” He threw a wink to Cadence. “Or perhaps not.”
Goodness! Such a rogue.
“As if you could ever pass for a gentleman,” Mrs. Morris spat.
“No more than you could pass for a lady.” He presented her a mock bow and charmingly pleasant smile. “But if there is hope for me, then who knows what it could mean for a woman such as you.”
Neither Mrs. Bridger nor Cadence was entirely successful in masking a snort of laughter. Be it a blessing or a curse the good Lord had bestowed upon Curtis a fast wit and a faster tongue. While his comments were undoubtedly inappropriate he said it with such indescribable flare and nonchalance one could never help but laugh, or spark with anger, as the case may be.
Glancing curiously from Curtis to Cadence, Mrs. Bridger appeared to be waiting for a declaration of sorts.
Kathleen Morris seemed almost oblivious to Cadence as she continued to glare at her former nemesis.
And Curtis, sensing escape was imperative, cleared his throat. “Good day to you ladies. I’d best be on my way.” He turned to Cadence, whose cheeks grew suspiciously warm, and murmured, “Cadence.” Their eyes locked for the briefest instant.
Assuming a devil may care nonchalance, intended solely to pique Mrs. Morris, he strode down the steps.
Biting the inside of her cheek Cadence flashed the women a quick smile, “Well, I have work to do,” and entered the building before they could inundate her with questions.
* * *
Striding away from the seamstress shop Curtis was surprised to find himself smiling.
Smiling!
Seldom did he feel like smiling anymore, at least not genuinely, and did so more as a requirement of polite conversation than emotion. But, for whatever reason Cadence Jamison had him smiling. And more amazing was that for just a few moments, in her presence, he’d begun to feel like himself again.
Irritating the school witch and seeing Cadence try to hide her amusement… when was the last time he’d had such fun?
To hold the power to make him feel this way again Cadence was something… special. A marvel? Perhaps she really was an angel. His angel…
But women were a luxury he little allowed himself—no that wasn’t true, he didn’t avoid women altogether just romantic entanglements—and Cadence could definitely become a romantic entanglement. He’d learned the hard way that relationships never ended well and his ever developing shipping business kept him more than busy enough to avoid temptation.
But that was before Cadence. There was something about Cadence, Cadence… “Cadence,”he murmured her name aloud. Shaking his head to clear it he headed toward the docks and the Heavenly Mistress—his only serious mistress. With five days to make preparations he didn’t have time to consider a lengthy involvement with a woman. And he had no desire to find himself trapped in another acrimonious affair…
Acrimonious… he contemplated the adjective. Yes, he thought, acrimonious was a good word for that particular debacle. A very good word…
But he feared having already lost this battle. He should never have looked into Cadence’s eyes. Beautiful eyes… startling eyes… eyes that looked like the heavens before a gale.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, successfully wiping the smile from his lips. He sounded like a damned poet, and he’d be damned before letting himself turn into a poet because men who recited poetry had a nasty little habit of finding themselves in love. “I have work to do,” he mumbled gruffly. “Best just to concentrate on that.”
* * *
“Oh my goodness, Cadence, you must tell me everything!”
Surprised by the sudden outburst Cadence looked up to see Grace Leven, her dearest friend in the world, flounce into the sewing room and flop onto a cushion across from her.
“Tell you everything about what?”
“Oh, don’t you dare pretend not to know what I am talking about!” Grace looked as though she might burst in anticipation.
Setting her work aside Cadence gave her friend an exasperated look. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Grace snorted in a rather unbecoming fashion. “You and Curtis Langston.” Leaning forward she elaborated. “Mother and I saw Mrs. Morris in the general store.”
Now Cadence understood and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “What did she say?”
“That Curtis Langston,” she sighed the name from the depths of her throat, “was kissing you on the steps right in front of the seamstress shop this morning.”
“What?” Oh, but she could kill meddling gossips. “That is absolutely not true. He was not kissing me.”
“He wasn’t?”
“No!”
“Too bad,” Grace harrumphed. “Did you want him to?”
Cadence opened her mouth but found herself at a total loss for words. Two or three heartbeats later, she managed to retort, “Well, wouldn’t you?”
Grace responded instantly, “Who wouldn’t?”
“It was a rhetorical question.” Cadence rolled her eyes and settled her work back in her lap.
Her friend did not look amused by the less than willing participation in the conversation. “How did you meet him?”
“What are you talking about? We’ve known him for years,” Cadence hedged, feigning overt interest in her needlework.
“Oh,” Grace exclaimed sarcastically, “and you’ve spoken to him regularly since the days when we were all in school together?” Her expression was dubious at best. “He joined the army over six years ago and I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen him since.” She held up four fingers for emphasis. “And believe me I’ve noticed.” Again she leaned forward imploring Cadence with ever curious hazel-brown eyes. “So when did you see him?”
For years she and Grace had shared everything, talked about everything, and for the first time in their age old friendship Cadence held back. First of all she was not entirely certain she wanted her friend to know of her near ravishment by the docks but more than that her time with Curtis was, well for lack of a better word, it was special. And it was hers.
Grace glared at her, dying to know the juicy details.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake Grace it really wasn’t all that exciting.” Not true, the occasion on the docks had been entirely tooexciting. “He only walked me to work this morning.” That was mostly true. “And Mrs. Morris would have it sound as if we were… were…”
“Fornicating?” Grace supplied.
“Yes.” Cadence nodded. “In public no less when in truth absolutely nothing happened.”
“Hmmm.” Grace tapped a thoughtful finger against her chin. “What was it Hamlet said? About protesting too much?”
“Oh!” Cadence chucked a sewing pillow at her friend. “You’re impossible.”
“Thank you. I know.” Grace grinned teasingly then sobered slightly. “So you’re absolutely serious, nothing happened?”
With a shrug Cadence gave her a wry smile. “Sorry to disappoint, but no.”
“Pity,” Grace pouted. “He was always such a rogue, a handsome rogue and you know all the delicious stories about his being a pirate during the war.” She sighed, a dreamy haze glassing over her eyes. “Is he still a rogue?”
“Yes.” Cadence bit her lower lip to keep a betraying grin at bay. “Although I tell you, Grace, there is something different about him. He was always so,” she scrunched her brow thoughtfully, “so flippant, and now he’s serious, well, no, not really serious, but almost sad.” Settling her hands in her lap she looked distantly over her friend’s shoulder. “I don’t know. I can’t really describe it. There is just something different about him. Something in his eyes, and the way he smiles.”
Grace watched her with an all too knowing glint. “You’re certain that nothing happened?”
“Nothing!”
“Oh, alright, I believe you.” Rising Grace turned at the door. “Although you do realize it doesn’t matter. Half the city reads Mrs. Morris’ gossip column and the day after tomorrow she will have the city believing you and Curtis Langston were fornicatingon the city street.”
No reply was necessary. Grace was right after all, and when the column hit the streets her father would really have something to bluster about.
“I’d better go before I get you in trouble with Mrs. Bridger.”
“You know she doesn’t mind when you come visit.”
“No, but one of these days I’m going to wear out my welcome.” Grace put a hand on the door handle. “You will tell me if something does happen.”
“You would be the first to know.”
“With Kathleen Morris about to cut your reputation to ribbons you may as well have something to show for it.” Grace grinned devilishly as she passed through the door. “I would certainly want something to show for it, especially from him.”
* * *
Skipping down the stone steps of the seamstress shop that night Cadence had no desire to go home but was not so foolish as to venture toward the docks again. Looking left and then right she sighed and turned toward home. It was best not to anger her father with tardiness again; he’d been worse than usual of late as another of his business schemes had gone awry. Walking through the early evening streets, she couldn’t hold down her soaring hopes whenever blond hair or broad shoulders passed her field of view. It was difficult not to nurture the niggling of hope that Curtis would find her again, but much to her disappointment the broad shoulders and sun kissed tawny locks were never his.
After three days she gave up all hope that he’d felt anything more for her than a passing concern for a soul momentarily in need of his services. That and the outrageous tale printed by the gossip column had most definitely frightened him off.
Oh, well, she didn’t want to find a man, not really. All she really wanted was to get out of Charleston.