Page 11 of His Perfect Bride (Bride Ships: New Voyages #3)
Eleven
O ne thing was increasingly clear to Jackson—he was rapidly becoming obsessed with Sage.
He’d only been able to sleep for a few hours last night since he’d been too restless from the dinner party and had wanted to be with her, and now as he paced the floor of his study, he still couldn’t stop thinking about her, even though he’d tried working to get his mind on to something else.
He’d been enamored by her beauty from the very first time he’d seen her. But the more he’d gotten to know the strong yet compassionate woman she was inside, the more he liked her.
Then she’d given him the haircut and shave. After that, thoughts of her filled every waking and sleeping moment—thoughts of her fingers in his hair, on his neck, and against his scalp. Her fingertips gliding along his jaw, over his cheek, and so near to his lips.
The touching had all been innocent for her, but each stroke and caress had stirred the heat inside him until he’d become a boiling cauldron.
With a growl, he halted at his window, the morning light finally peeking through the draperies.
While the party hadn’t been easy for him, the evening had proceeded more smoothly than he’d expected. Augusta had done her best to keep conversations from heading in the direction of his failed bridge project, and he’d only had to answer a couple of queries about his work. He’d done as Augusta had suggested beforehand and kept his answers succinct before changing the subject.
In reality, the dinner had been long overdue. He’d needed to mingle with society and push past the heavy guilt that had been chaining him and making him a prisoner since the accident.
The process of breaking free from all that had happened would take time. But at the very least, he was making progress—even if it was slow—in the right direction.
He might be returning to the land of the sane in some regards, but he’d never be completely like other men. He never had been. He’d always had a tendency toward being obsessed with whatever he was working on. It was just the way his mind worked, and he’d long ago stopped trying to be someone he wasn’t.
Being obsessed over his projects, his studying, and his calculations was one thing. Being obsessed over a woman was a different matter. This had never happened to him before, not with Meredith and not with any of the other women who had shown him interest.
Maybe that was precisely the problem. Previously, other women had been the ones to show him interest. While he may have been flattered or even nominally attracted at times, he’d never been the one initiating the interest. This time with Sage, the roles were reversed. She remained aloof and professional, while he was turning into an infatuated imbecile.
He paused in his pacing and blew out a breath. If he was truly honest with himself, he suspected that even if Sage had reciprocated the interest, he still would have been an infatuated imbecile. There was just something about her that had snagged him and wouldn’t let go, almost as if she’d gotten into his circulatory system and was running through his blood.
The soft patter of footsteps overhead was the sign that she was awake, likely getting ready before she went into Augusta’s room.
The two women were leaving this morning to travel to Salt Spring Island to track down Sage’s sister. He’d contemplated telling them that he’d take them since he was used to traveling around Vancouver Island, mostly by canoe with the aid of Native guides.
He’d done a great deal of exploring during his early months on the island to help the governor determine the best places for roads and bridges. During the past couple of years, more of his work had taken place up in the Fraser River Valley on the mainland. Nevertheless, he was still familiar with much of the coastline of Vancouver Island.
Even so, he didn’t want to impose upon the two women. They would be fine hiring someone to take them to the island. It wasn’t far from Victoria, and the ride would be easy, especially on a day with calm weather.
He turned to his desk, stalked around it, and plopped down into the chair. Moreover, he had work to do. Now that he’d started reviewing the older diagrams of his first few suspension bridges, new ideas were formulating, and he needed to capitalize on those ideas.
If only visions of Sage weren’t interrupting his thoughts every few seconds…
He bent over the sheet he’d already tried studying and recalculating. He stared at it unseeingly, the numbers and equations swimming in his mind without any purpose.
With a frustrated sigh, he shoved back from his desk and stood. What was he going to do about his preoccupation with Sage? Normally, he embraced whatever his mind fixated upon. He let himself run with concepts and spend hours dissecting and discovering every nuance.
But he couldn’t do that with her. Not only wouldn’t that be healthy for him, but he’d likely scare her onto the first ship sailing back to England, and he didn’t want that to happen. Already, he was dreading the day when she’d walk out of his life—which wouldn’t be long, just until Augusta got tired of being in Victoria and decided to move on.
How, then, could he restrain his growing desires for her without driving himself to the brink of insanity?
He sat back down, braced his elbows on his desk, and pressed his palms into his eyes. He had to get over Sage, that’s what he had to do. And he had to learn to control his obsessions. That was all there was to it.
At the patter of footsteps—Sage’s—coming down the stairway, he sat back up, combed his fingers through his hair, only to remember that it was short and manageable. He quickly attempted to straighten his cravat, then realized he hadn’t donned one. He glanced down to find he was still wearing the same shirt from the party last night and that his waistcoat was gone and his trousers wrinkled.
He should have done a better job grooming himself this morning. But most likely Sage would pass by his study and not notice him.
As her footsteps drew nearer, he perched on the edge of his chair. Even though a part of him wanted to pretend he was busy, another part of him simply didn’t care and only wanted to get a glimpse of her as she walked by.
When she appeared in his doorway and knocked against the doorframe, he jumped to his feet. He hadn’t expected her to stop, and now he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.
“Good morning, Mr. Lennox.” Her pretty face with its dainty features was made all the prettier by her eyes, which were always so wide and blue and bright.
Today she was wearing a pale green gown which looked as though it had been made to fit her to perfection, showcasing her slender but womanly form. She’d fashioned her hair as she usually did in a chignon, which always seemed to draw his attention to her elegant neck and slender collarbones.
He knew he was being rude by staring so blatantly. He needed to greet her in return. But not only couldn’t he think of what to say, he couldn’t get his tongue to work.
“Augusta is still abed.” Sage’s lashes were long and only made her eyes more vibrant. “She would like to speak with you, if you would be so kind as to join her in her chamber.”
“You may let her know that I shall be there shortly.”
“Thank you.” She gave a slight deferential bow of her head before turning and starting back to the stairs.
He waited until he heard her footsteps overhead again before venturing out of his study and heading to Augusta’s bedroom. As he tapped lightly and was welcomed in, his gaze went first to Sage standing beside the bed, a worried line creasing her forehead.
“I’m just tired today, that’s all,” Augusta was saying. “It was a busy week and was busy last night.”
“That’s understandable.” Sage lifted Augusta forward and plumped one of her pillows. “You should rest.”
“You’re sure you won’t mind my not going?”
“As I said, we’ll go a different day when you’re not so tired.”
Jackson’s stomach tied in a dozen more knots seeing Sage again, although only five minutes had passed since she’d been in his study. Even in her role as a lady’s maid, Sage was entirely too appealing from the way she moved, the way she spoke, and even the way she tilted her head.
Augusta situated herself more comfortably against the mound of pillows, as if she planned to stay a while.
He frowned. He couldn’t remember the last time Augusta had ever stayed in bed. Was she ill?
“Jackson,” she said as she closed her eyes. “I need you to take Sage to visit her sister today.”
“No, Augusta.” Sage spoke quietly, firmly. “I can wait.”
“Nonsense. You’ve been looking forward to seeing Willow, and there’s no reason Jackson can’t make the arrangements and take you there. Right, Jackson?” Augusta cracked open an eye and pinned him with a glare that told him there was only one right answer.
“Of course I can take Sage—Miss Rhodes.” He’d already wanted to go and didn’t care if Augusta could sense his eagerness at her request.
Sage shook her head at him. “I wouldn’t consider imposing on you. I know how busy you are.”
Augusta closed her eye. “It would do Jackson good to take a break and get away for a day.”
It would? She was probably right, just as she’d been right about everything else so far.
“I really don’t mind waiting.” Sage’s voice was edged with a note of desperation.
Did she not want to go with him? “I’m probably not the best company.”
“That’s not it at all. You’re fine company, and I’m sure I would enjoy a day with you as much as I would with Augusta, but…”
“But what?” Augusta persisted, opening her eyes and looking as wide-awake as if she’d already been up half the day.
“But I don’t want to bother him,” Sage half whispered.
“She won’t be a bother, will she?” Augusta’s gaze was direct, once again giving him no room to argue—not that he wanted to argue.
The prospect of spending the day with Sage, even just to take her to Salt Spring Island, was an opportunity he didn’t plan to forego now that it had been given to him.
“I’ve been to Salt Spring Island many times during my explorations. I know where the settlements are, and I’m sure I’ll be able to locate your sister without too much trouble.”
Sage hesitated, her forehead still creased. “That’s so kind of you, Mr. Lennox. I don’t know what to say.”
Augusta leaned back comfortably. “Just say yes.”
“But what about you?” Sage tucked Augusta’s blanket around her. “What if you’re fighting an illness? I’d like to be here to watch over you today.”
Augusta snorted. “I shall be fine. I’m just a little tired this morning and will be back to myself in no time at all.”
She already seemed back to herself, but Jackson kept that piece of information to himself, not wanting to point it out and have her change her mind. “When would you like to leave?” He directed his question toward Sage.
She glanced at Augusta for an answer.
“You’ll leave right away.” Augusta’s tone said she wouldn’t be swayed.
As though recognizing the same, Sage nodded. “You’re sure you’ll be all right?”
“Of course.” Augusta’s thin lips curved into a satisfied smile that Jackson didn’t understand, but that didn’t matter.
He started to cross to the door. “I shall be ready to depart in no more than five minutes.”
* * *
During the walk to the waterfront, Jackson was as nervous as if he were going courting for the very first time. But Sage wasn’t awkward like he was and put him at ease with her casual questions and conversation.
As they reached the main wharf, the bay was already busy for a Saturday morning. A few straggling fishing boats were leaving for the day, and a couple of steamers were also preparing for departure with supplies and men heading up into the mountains for one last trip before winter.
The bellow of the steam whistles, the calls of stevedores, and the squawk of seagulls seemed to greet him and remind him of how much of life he’d missed over the past months. Even the cool October air with the hint of sea and salt reminded him of how much he’d grown to appreciate this new land.
He made quick work of tracking down Tcoosma, one of the Native guides he’d used many times. The short, brown-skinned man with his silvery-black braids and dark eyes never turned down an opportunity to shuttle Jackson around, primarily because Jackson paid him well, not only with the standard Hudson’s Bay Company blankets with their red, yellow, and green bands, but also with flour, sugar, and tobacco.
Attired in his customary—albeit well-worn—breechcloth, leggings, and moccasins, Tcoosma settled into the front of his red cedar canoe in order to direct them. He wore no shirt beneath his cape, and the cold never seemed to bother him. His battered bowler was pulled low but did nothing to hide the large abalone shells that pierced his earlobes and made them sag.
Jackson assisted Sage into the spot at the center of the canoe and took up his place at the rear to help with the paddling. As they made their way out of the harbor and away from Victoria, the canoe glided swiftly through the calm water.
He was glad for his position at the back that allowed him to observe Sage. She sat quietly, taking everything in, clutching her cloak closed with one gloved hand while holding on to the side of the canoe with the other.
After the weeks of her being stuck in his house and trailing after Augusta around Victoria, the wilderness had to be different. It had been for him when he’d first arrived from London to Manitoba on the Hudson’s Bay.
As they rounded the eastern bend of the island and started north, the distant peaks on the mainland came into view. The morning sunshine glimmered off a low mist, turning the reds and oranges and yellows of the trees into flames, making his heart swell with something that felt a little like peace—a peace he hadn’t experienced in a long time.
At Sage’s intake of breath, he could tell she was awed by the beauty too. With a fashionable straw bonnet tied beneath her chin and shading her face, she looked every bit as much a lady as Augusta did. Even so, he wished he could take off the hat and have a full view of her face and expression for the duration of the voyage.
He wanted to find something to talk about with her, but he didn’t know where to start a conversation. Besides, she probably didn’t want him intruding into her enjoyment of the scenery.
With the birds having begun their migration season, he was spotting flocks of them at every turn. As the canoe passed a rocky section of the coast where at least a hundred, if not two hundred, sandpipers were roosting and foraging, he drew his paddle out of the water to slow their progress.
“Sage,” he called, “look to your left. Sandpipers.”
Tcoosma slanted a dark glare his way, as if to tell him that he was in a hurry. But Jackson focused on Sage, waiting for her reaction to the sight.
She shifted her gaze and then drew in another breath at the shoreline full of the unique birds with their long, narrow beaks and skinny legs. “There are so many,” she said after a minute, her voice tinged with awe.
“The island is a major migratory stopping point for many breeds.” Jackson had already started paddling again, and they didn’t have to go much farther before he pointed out a flock of Brant geese swimming close to shore amongst the eelgrass, their graceful black necks and heads shimmering in the sunshine.
He’d always had an interest in birdwatching, and it had only grown when he’d moved to Vancouver Island with the abundance of waterfowl, birds of prey, and songbirds. He’d once even kept a journal to record and draw the birds he spotted, but he’d become too busy and had neglected the journal over the past year or two.
Seeing the migratory birds now through Sage’s eyes made him want to renew his journal. Maybe it was more that he wanted to see life again and appreciate the small things he’d started to take for granted.
Whatever it was, the ride along the coast passed too quickly, especially with Tcoosma attempting to keep a fast and steady pace, and they reached the southern tip of Salt Spring Island within an hour. Most of the island was made up of rugged rocky coastline, but Jackson knew of a place or two more hospitable to settlers claiming land.
He inquired at the first settlement while Tcoosma and Sage remained in the canoe. Her sister wasn’t there, but the fellow and his family said that Willow and her husband had a farm farther west along the coast.
They paddled to the next area that consisted of a small pebbly beach with grassy banks rising into a woodland. An inlet with a rushing creek emptied into the narrow harbor. Other than a canoe propped against the bank, the area looked uninhabited and hilly, without any sign of land suitable for farming.
Sage was searching the shoreline eagerly, but no one was in sight.
“I shall follow the river and see if I happen upon anyone.” Jackson was already climbing onto the bank. “Wait here until I return.”
He easily found a trail that followed the river. It wound through the dense woodland before opening into a clearing that was littered with stumps but also was being cultivated to grow crops. Jackson was no farmer, but amongst the stumps he recognized some potato plants that had yet to be harvested.
On an incline above the cleared land stood a rugged log home with a lean-to. A thin line of smoke trickled out of a stove pipe in the roof made of handcrafted shingles.
A single-story barn had been built in the open area beyond the house. Like the cabin, it was made of hewn logs and solid chinking. The corral off to one side housed a cow and a couple of pigs, along with a smattering of chickens.
At a laundry line that ran from the log cabin to a nearby tree, a young woman with a turban on her head and a bundle in a sling—likely a baby—paused in hanging a man’s shirt to peer down at him.
“Elijah!” she called toward the barn. “Someone’s here!”
Jackson halted. The folks out in the remote areas were cautious with strangers, sometimes overly so. He didn’t blame them, not with so many newcomers coming and going.
It was obvious this wasn’t where Willow and her husband lived. But he wasn’t about to leave without getting more information. “I’m looking for a woman named Willow,” he called. “Any idea where I might find her?”
The woman scowled at him like a mother bear protecting her cub. “Who wants to know?”
“Her sister Sage.”
The woman made a point of scanning the trail behind him. “I don’t see no sister.”
“She’s in the canoe.”
At that, the woman froze. “Here? Now?” Her voice wobbled with emotion.
“Yes. I’m trying to locate her sister Willow. Do you know where she lives?”
A man ducked out of the low barn door in simple garb and a neckerchief tied over a shaven head. Shielding his eyes with a hand, he straightened to a full, towering height. He glanced first to the woman with the baby in the sling, then his attention narrowed upon Jackson.
“Elijah!” the woman called again. “Go get Willow.”
“Why?”
“Just go on now and do as I say.”
The man with the neckerchief—Elijah—hesitated a moment, then began to cross his farmyard toward a bridge that spanned the river. A trail cut through the woodland on the other side. Did Willow perhaps live here after all?
With his muscles tensing with sudden anticipation, Jackson turned and made his way back along the path toward the shore to fetch Sage. The thought of her elation at finally being reunited with her sister brought him a sweet sense of satisfaction. He wanted Sage to be happy today and always. In fact, for a reason he couldn’t explain, her happiness meant more to him than anything else.