Page 44 of Across the Star-Kissed Sea (Proper Romance Regency #1)

I couldn’t help a smile at the sweetness of her excitement.

I only hoped the captain could share in this sweetness when this tension I’d incited had settled.

Perhaps he’d let us return to the ship while she awaited the little arrival.

As long as we stayed on the orlop during engagements, she would be safe.

Storms sank ships more than battles did, and the squadron had a comfortable harbor in Vis to weather any gales.

“Do you hope it’s a girl baby or a boy baby?” I asked. The conversation was water rushing over the barren wasteland that had been my human interaction of late. I couldn’t let it dry up too quickly.

She shrugged. “I couldn’t care one way or the other. I think as long as it has Dominic’s eyes, I will be happy.”

I couldn’t fault her for wanting that. For a brief moment, I imagined holding an infant, head covered with soft, ginger fuzz.

I hadn’t thought about my own children much, but suddenly, I wanted that little one more than I could bear.

To see the man you loved reflected in a tiny bundle in your arms must be one of the greatest treasures of life.

Up the hill, an odd-looking contraption appeared over the trees. It had a straight pole like a mast with a perpendicular yardarm sticking out from one side. Attached to the arm were several balls and flags. A few people added more balls. That must be the telegraph.

“It’s nice to talk to someone about the baby,” she said. “I’ve really only talked to étienne, and it was only in medical terms.”

Very little seemed to pass the Frenchman’s notice. “Not even the captain?” I closed my eyes. My fault again. She hadn’t had much opportunity for such a conversation.

Mrs. Peyton suddenly grabbed my arm.

I jerked to a halt, scanning her for any sign of injury. “What is it?” I asked, supporting her arm.

She pointed toward the poles. “The telegraph. They’re sending a message.” Now the figures were taking down balls and adding flags. They worked rapidly. She started moving again at a similar pace to what she’d employed before. “Let’s find out what they’re saying.”

“Who do you think the message is for?” How they could tell what the message said was beyond me. The series of flag-and-ball combinations moved so quickly I could barely internalize one formation before they moved to the next.

“The ships in the harbor,” Mrs. Peyton said.

Something that could affect her husband.

And my Elias. We scrambled the last stretch of path until we broke through the trees into the clearing around the telegraph.

The men manning the contraption wore the checked shirts and wrapped queues of sailors.

One man, more stylishly dressed, stood at the base of the telegraph with a book in hand, barking orders.

Mrs. Peyton strode directly to him. “What news do you have, Mr. Stone?” she asked breathlessly.

“Four suspicious sails to the south,” he said, not taking his eyes off his book, which showed drawings of a telegraph with different signals.

Mrs. Peyton locked eyes with me. My breath caught. Suspicious could mean anything, but in these waters, it usually meant only one—French ships.

Elias’s face, pale and creased with pain as he’d told me his past, filled my vision.

Another battle. Would he be asked to push himself past his limits again in support of the crew?

I glanced down at the harbor below us, where five ships of various sizes rested.

What I wouldn’t give to be down there right now.

Even if I couldn’t do much, at least I could encourage him. He had no one.

I glanced back at Mrs. Peyton, my yearning to be with him suddenly choking me. She was gone. I whipped my gaze toward the path in time to see her disappear through the trees at a run.

“Ma’am!” I took off after her. “Should you be running in your condition?” She ignored me, and at that moment, I hardly minded. We had to get back to that ship.

Elias

The Marianne ’s decks swarmed like a kicked anthill with seamen and marines readying for departure.

The moment we could catch a southeasterly wind to get us out of the bay, we would be off.

For once, I welcomed it. Sitting in the harbor yesterday, waiting out the storm, seeing the rooftop of the little house where May and Mrs. Peyton resided every time I looked toward the shore, had tortured me more than expected.

The ship was filled with enough reminders, but knowing she was there, just beyond my reach, made this hollowness in my chest pang with aching pressure.

I skirted Mr. Hallyburton shouting orders, his face green and yellow from aging bruises, and made my way to the forecastle. Clearly, I enjoyed torturing myself, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted a last look at the rooftop before we left.

Someone had beat me to it. Captain Peyton stood with his telescope raised, the glass trained on the shore.

“Do you see them?” I asked, my heart pounding. I shouldn’t want a glimpse of her when she wanted nothing more to do with me, but my heart never listened to reason.

“They just returned to the house.” He twisted the telescope to focus it. “They were trying to get on one of our boats to come out here.”

“Were they?” Why did I want that more than anything?

“Just as I expected.” The captain released a sharp breath and closed his telescope. I bit back my disappointment. A hint of a smile played across Peyton’s face in spite of his scowl. “She thinks I don’t know her well enough by now to guess what she’d be up to.”

It wasn’t as ridiculous as he made it sound. She had kept him ignorant of her coming child for months, but I didn’t think he’d appreciate if I brought that up. If only he hadn’t anticipated the women’s attempt to come aboard.

Why? So you could beg May to have you back? Cowardly, lovesick, pathetic Elias Doswell?

Yes. Because when she was near me, I didn’t feel so cowardly or pathetic. I almost believed I had worth beyond the random facts in my head and silly talents rarely useful to anyone. She saw past the worrying chaplain to something more. Someone I wished I could become.

“She’s safer there,” the captain said in a softer tone.

“But that doesn’t help wishing she were at your side.” I couldn’t entertain these thoughts. How was I to move on if I let her take up so much space in my mind? I should be steeling myself for the battle to come if the ships proved to be French.

Captain Peyton nodded slowly. “Life was so much easier before I set foot on the Deborah .”

“I’m sorry, sir?” What did he mean by that?

He continued as though I hadn’t said anything, his thoughts seeming to tumble from a cluttered mind.

“I saw signs since the beginning of the voyage, but I didn’t let myself see what they meant.

The sickness, the fatigue, the withdrawing.

” He shook his head. “I had so many other things weighing on me. I determined that if there was something important, she would come to me eventually.” He tapped his hand against the telescope.

“Clearly, Georgana still has her secrets.”

I looked away at the pain in his voice. Miriam had told me how difficult the first year of marriage was as two people realigned their lives to fit the new relationship.

I wasn’t sure why he was telling me—a bachelor despite my greatest attempts—all of this, but if he needed a listening and understanding ear, I could be that for him.

If only I could relate my own struggles.

Peyton clapped me on the shoulder. “Come, Doswell. We’re going ashore.”

I choked. “Ashore?”

He strode toward the waist, where a few seamen were coming over the side with supplies from a boat that had just arrived. I hurried to catch up.

“I won’t rest easy until I know she’s safe in the house. I figured you wouldn’t mind ensuring they’re safe either.”

My mouth went suddenly dry. I was seeing May again with my heart still bruised and battered. This was a terrible idea. But as I followed Peyton over the side, my hands and feet carried me all too quickly down the ladder to the boat. What a fool. A blasted, lovesick fool.

May

I halted my retreat to the kitchen when Elias walked through the door behind Captain Peyton.

Three weeks without seeing him had only intensified his attraction.

His red hair was set so as to look perfectly windswept but not wild.

Though he wore his black coat, which was my least favorite of his coats, I didn’t see the proper clergyman he was attempting to portray.

I simply saw the man I loved. The man whose clear, green eyes looked everywhere in the room except at me.

The long days since I’d seen him hit me like an ocean swell. I wanted to run to him, to throw my arms around his waist, pull his coat around the both of us, and bury my face in his jasmine-tea-scented cravat. When had that aroma come to feel like home?

He focused on the captain and Mrs. Peyton, and I forced myself to look away. I had no right to wish for things to return to what they were. I’d broken his heart. Again. How many times could one heart be broken and put back together?

Captain Peyton took his wife’s hands and squeezed them. “We don’t have long.”

“When do you sail?” she asked.

“As soon as we get favorable winds.” He sighed, lowering his voice as if to keep their conversation private despite the tiny sitting room. “I wish you were coming.”

Mrs. Peyton stood stiff and straight as one of the columns we’d seen at the Roman baths. I could hardly hear any emotion in her tone. “I can come.”

It wasn’t as if we’d missed the last battle. I clasped my hands behind me, imagining grasping an anchor. It was not my place to enter this conversation. He’d never agree.

A flicker of doubt crossed his face, an almost childlike yearning for what she offered. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly, then he squeezed his eyes shut. He was the captain. He could tell her yes or no.