Prize of My Heart (20 page)

If only she could. She needed Papa’s counsel in this. She had to get to him before Brogan did.

Lorena tilted her face to look at him. “That, Brogan, is a question for my father. I can’t tell you any more than I already have. Papa’s a wise and understanding man who believes in your integrity or he would not have sent you for me. He would not have entrusted Drew to your care or asked you to join in his shipping enterprise. Explain to him what you’ve just told me. You can trust he’ll be honest and forthcoming.”

He responded with a reluctant nod. “Fair enough. I will have that conversation with your father. And I will find out the truth. You can depend upon it.” Though disappointed, he did not push her further.

His good humor returned in a smile. “And now I have another confession to make,” he announced. “I’ve fallen in love with you, Lorena Huntley. These past months I have never felt more content. Every sense alive, every moment precious, as though for the first time I am experiencing life at its fullest. And I know the reason for this has to do with more than my reunion with my son. It’s you, Lorena. I want us to be a family. You already love Ben and he loves you. Do you think you can forgive and love his father, as well?”

Her heart filled with fierce emotion—love, happiness, compassion. Tears in her eyes, a lump in her throat, the best Lorena could manage was a nod. Forgive Brogan for possessing such faithfulness and devotion he could not let go of a precious loved one? Yes. He was a man not unlike her father, a man with good treasure stored in his heart, a man committed to family. The man she’d been destined to love.

He took hold of her hands. “Will you have me, Lorena? Will you marry me? Don’t give me your answer yet. I must first speak to your father and convince him I am worthy of you. For should you give me the honor of agreeing to be my wife, I should want his blessing.”

Lorena suspected he knew her answer already, if only because of the tears shining happily in her eyes. Her smile, however, was bittersweet with worry, not so much of her father withholding his blessing as for whether Brogan would feel the same after speaking with Papa.

Brogan’s love had brought promise and joy to her life, but was it strong enough to endure once he learned of the secret surrounding Drew?

T
he
Yankee Heart
approached the forest-dense southern shores of Massachusetts ten days later, where it entered the Bluefish River.

A slight delay was owing to the fact there’d been no work for the crew the day following the storm. Jabez conducted a memorial service for Gideon Hale on the main deck. Brogan read Scripture aloud, then gave thanks to the Lord for sparing William and for the safe passage of the ship. He prayed for the protection of those still aboard her. Jabez’s music books were pulled off the shelves, Frederick Mott brought out his fiddle, and the crew joined in singing hymns.

Brogan did not push Lorena further for answers about her father’s relationship with Abigail, though instinct assured him she knew more than she was willing to let on. He trusted she had good reason for directing him to her father. Actually he preferred news of Abigail come directly from Huntley. Still, it troubled him, this aura of mystery.

Why did Lorena feel she must hold something back from him? Did she not trust him?

He stood on the
Yankee Heart
’s quarterdeck under the shadow of darkening heavens. Humidity wavered in the air, blurring the sighting of land with an ashen haze. Brogan raised his telescope, adjusting the lens and bringing into focus the fitting wharf with its outbuildings and then the stately home beyond.

Somewhere inside that large black-and-white Federal house, Nathaniel Huntley awaited. Brogan waited, too. He waited for his questions to be answered, for three years of agonizing speculation to be over. But what harsh realties lay hidden behind the truth of Abigail’s scheme?

Lowering the glass, he snapped it closed. Brogan lifted his hat to swipe his shirtsleeve across his perspiring brow. He could not stave off the apprehension and hardened himself for what lie ahead. He had deceived the shipbuilder and now must confess to him that the man he’d entrusted with the safe return of his daughter had at one time been plotting to abduct another child from his home.

Lorena emerged onto the deck below, catching his eye in a becoming apricot gown. She looked all sweetness and femininity, from her springy head of ginger curls to the toes inside her flat leather sandals.

Glancing upward, she gave him a wave, and Brogan thought never was there a smile more beautiful than that of his beloved.

His heart flooded with love for her; his eyes filled with adoration. She radiated serene elegance, and her goodness cast a glow about her like that of an angel, an angel who had pulled his soul from bitterness.

Mounting the companionway, she joined him on the quarterdeck. Brogan greeted her with a smile and extended his hand. “Come. Stand beside me, where the welcome party ashore can see you.”

She slipped her much smaller hand in his, and he drew her to his side before the rails. The
Yankee Heart
was drawing attention, and Huntley yard workers and Duxboro townsfolk had now begun to assemble all along the lengthy fitting wharf.

Happiness glittered in her eyes and her smile grew. “Oh, let me fetch Drew. He’ll want to see this, too.”

Brogan detained her with a squeeze of his hand. “In a moment.” Selfish of him perhaps, but he’d had little opportunity to be alone with Lorena and was hungry to steal what moments they could. Especially this moment.

Lorena lifted her gaze to Brogan’s and what she found in his eyes reflected the same uncertainty gnawing at her. She smiled reassuringly. What words could adequately convey her love? What deed? She fully intended to accept his proposal and promise to stand by his side through the worst. She’d do anything for him, but oh—if only she could spare him this. Still, the past must be put to rights before they could move forward with their future. Brogan understood or he wouldn’t have asked her to hold off with her answer.

Lorena held tight to his hand, drawing on his bulwark strength and remembering her faith as she turned her attention to familiar sights on shore.

Soon their feet would touch Duxboro soil, but given recent events,
home
had taken on quite a different meaning. Home was not so much a location as it was she, Brogan, and Drew being together.

Owning to the shallowness of the Bluefish River and the imposing hull size of the
Yankee Heart
, soon they could venture no closer to shore. Brogan gave the order to moor the merchantman and lower the boats.

He sat in the stern directly across from her, Drew fidgeting restlessly at her side, and paused before taking up the oars. In his eyes was a look of love and longing.

“You’re nearly home now,” he told them.

“Will you come live with us?” Drew asked.

“We’ll settle all that later. But wherever I do live, I shall always be nearby, and we’ll see each other whenever we like, agreed?”

The child released a breath. “Yes, sir.”

“You promised, remember, not to say anything about me being your father until after I’ve had a chance to speak with your papa Huntley. Do you think you can keep our secret for a bit?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Good lad.” Brogan’s grin widened, a grin he quickly turned on Lorena as though seeking her consent. “Ready, then?”

She nodded. “Ready.”

Gripping the oars, he squared his shoulders and put his back into rowing. Lorena ran her gaze up the
Yankee Heart
’s great towering side and continued to watch in admiration as they sailed beneath the projecting spar of the bowsprit and the shadow of the jib boom’s sail.

“I wonder why I don’t see Papa among any of the figures on the wharf,” she puzzled as they drew closer to land. “Oh, but there is Temperance and Mrs. Culliford.” Lorena reached up and waved excitedly, catching a glimpse of Edward Hicks’s wife beckoning to her husband in the longboat behind them. Under Mr. Smith’s command, it carried several of the crew as well as Lorena’s and Drew’s trunks.

Brogan dragged the boat up the beach and lifted them out in turn onto the warm, soft beach sand. While he secured the boat, Drew scrambled up the dunes into Mrs. Culliford’s arms. She stooped to receive him, rocking him in a hug and showering his face with kisses.

Lorena followed unsteadily on sea legs while Temperance ambled down the dune to her assistance, her voice carrying over the echoing surf and screeching gulls. “Is it really you, Lorena? We missed you so much! Your father has even purchased a fine porcelain tub for you. It waits up in your room. And there are soaps and bath salts of every fragrance imaginable.”

“I missed you too, Temperance.” Lorena hooked an arm with her sweet young friend. Sand sifted into her sandals and between her toes as together they climbed to where Mrs. Culliford and Drew awaited. They reunited in a huddle of kisses, tears, and hugs. Mrs. Culliford drew her close with an arm wrapped about Lorena’s waist, then tenderly tucked a stray curl behind Lorena’s ear. There were questions about that fateful day, questions about George and what had happened, which for the moment would have to remain unanswered, as shipwrights, workmen, their families, and other townsfolk gathered around to welcome her home.

“Everyone, please,” she called as Brogan strode up the path to join them. “This is a happy occasion indeed, but your good wishes belong to the hero who has made my safe return to Duxboro possible.” Lorena brought her hands together in applause, and all those fine citizens present lifted their faces to Brogan and joined her.

Shouts of “Hurrah” rose up. Drew broke away from the onlookers and ran proudly to his papa’s side. Grinning, Brogan reached down and hoisted the boy into his arms. As he continued with Drew up the dune, Mrs. Culliford separated herself to approach him.

She took his hand reverently between both her own. “On behalf of Mr. Huntley, Captain, bless you for bringing his children safely home. We are truly indebted to you.”

“You are most welcome, Mrs. Culliford.” Brogan lowered Drew to the ground and cast his gaze warily over the spectators gathered. “Tell me, where is Mr. Huntley, and why is he not here with you?”

The petite housekeeper spared a glance behind with a smile for Lorena, emotion misting her eyes. “I found him to be in such a state of loneliness and worry that I convinced him to continue with his business trips. Work seems to be the only thing that consoles him. He left for Boston shortly before the
Yankee Heart
was sighted in the bay.”

Mrs. Culliford addressed Brogan once again. “I sent word immediately after him, Captain, and expect him to arrive shortly. In time, no doubt, to join you in the meal Temperance and I have been busily preparing. Not that Mr. Mott is not an able cook, but we thought you might be hungry for a taste of Yankee home cooking. Mr. Smith is most welcome, as well,” she was quick to assure him.

“Mr. Smith will be pleased to hear it. Thank you kindly, Mrs. Culliford. I cannot imagine an occasion when we would decline your home cooking.”

Brogan appreciated the woman’s excitement at having her household restored. She blushed shyly under his thoughtful gaze and offered him a smile of gratitude, eyes bright.

She turned next to Drew, sifting her fingers through his long, baby-fine curls. “Your hair has grown since I saw you last. A quick trim would tidy you up nicely before Papa Huntley arrives. Would you let me cut your hair, Drew?”

The lad turned his face, ducking from her reach. He looked to Brogan instead. “I think I need a nap first.”

Temperance scoffed. “Don’t believe him, Mother. He never wants to nap.”

Brogan rested a hand atop his son’s head and chuckled, for he understood the lad’s reluctance.
Why must I get a trim when my own papa’s hair is so long?
he imagined the boy thinking. Brogan’s hair had now grown to where it skimmed the top of his shoulders.

Observing them, Mrs. Culliford blushed with horror. “Oh, Captain, I did not mean to imply—”

“Please, don’t apologize, Mrs. Culliford. I agree with you; Drew could do with a haircut. Though, clearly, I do not set the best example on that score.”

Mrs. Culliford set her chin proudly. “Well, in that case, Captain, you are most welcome to join us. I’ve often been told I have talent with a pair of shears.”

Shears
. The image sent a coldness racing through him.

Even though twenty years had passed since he’d last seen that nightmare of an orphan asylum, moisture formed on Brogan’s brow. The sharp clip of the steel blades rang in his memory. The cruel, ragged chopping of his hair, meant to disfigure and humiliate. A much-dreaded, oft-repeated punishment and a warning to any other child who dared defy authority.

He had been signaled out as rebellious, punished for his inability to succumb to the despair of his ill birth, for the fire in his heart that raged against injustice, and sometimes to the extent of a bleeding scalp.

Never since had Brogan allowed anyone near his head with a sharp instrument. Whenever his hair became too ungainly, he would lop off an inch or two by his own hand.

“I promise it won’t hurt a bit, Captain,” Mrs. Culliford encouraged sweetly.

Brogan reminded himself he had nothing to fear from this petite, gentle housekeeper. And a respectable appearance couldn’t hurt his meeting with Nathaniel Huntley. If his little mite of a son could survive a hair trim, so could he. They were bred of the same stock.

Today he’d put the ugliness of the past to rest. Abigail. The orphan asylum. Painful memories. They couldn’t hurt him.

Chuckling, he gave the lad’s head a tousle. “We’ll do this together, aye? Get a trimming and make a good showing for Mr. Huntley.” Then to the housekeeper he said, “Thank you, Mrs. Culliford. I would be pleased to join you.”

She smiled as though delighted to be able to do this small kindness for him.

The dear woman had no idea how great a kindness.

A platter of crisped bacon and sausages balanced in her hands, Lorena bid farewell to Brogan’s shaggy blond mane as she watched him push the breadboard table off to one side, transforming the summer kitchen into a barber shop.

Such a dashing fellow could well afford to wear his hair in any style he chose, and if he preferred a more fashionable length—well, all the good for it.