Wings of the Morning (Kensington Chronicles) (7 page)

in poetry and music."

Smokey was surprised and fascinated with Buck's occupation,

and she also thought it rather fitting. She couldn't stop

her mind from straying to Dallas and wondering at the fact

that he and Buck could be so different. Brothers, with seemingly

nothing in common. Smokey pondered the matter until

Buck's house came into view.

Buck's house was as much a surprise as the man himself.

He did not live on the ocean, but in a wooded area that would

rival any ocean view for beauty. His house was a rustic one-story

that at first glance did not seem to fit what Smokey knew

of Buck.

Buck, who seemed to be watching for them, led them

immediately into a large, pleasant room that was lined with

J&Qokshelves. Ever the gentleman, Buck helped the ladies with

' sweaters, but Smokey took little notice. Her eyes were

ftin the room with near astonishment; it was so unlike *&te$ rough wood exterior.

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The room was lovely. There were bookshelves everywhere;

they literally lined the walls in tasteful elegance. The

furniture was very ornate and colorful, and although many

pieces didn't match, it was all artfully arranged. The effect was

sophisticated, yet warm. The windows, nearly reaching the

ceiling and gleaming with clean glass, were positioned in

such a way that everyone had a beautiful view of the woods.

"Do you like books?" Buck broke into her inspection.

"I do, although I've never taken much time for reading."

"Well," Buck seemed delighted, "read anything you like.

Pick some out and take them home."

Smokey, not used to such generosity, hesitated, but Buck's

look of genuine warmth soon put her at ease.

"Thank you, Buck," Smokey finally said graciously as she

moved toward the shelves. She immediately pulled a large

volume on American history, then she spotted a slim blue-bound

book that made her heart thunder. The title was Kohls'

Book of Etiquette. Still holding the history book, she took it

down and turned to the first chapter.

"What every young lady should know concerning afternoon

tea."

"What was that, Smokey?" Jenny asked from across the

room. Smokey realized she had spoken aloud

"I was just looking at this book." She nearly stuttered at

being discovered, but Buck rescued her.

"Take it with you. Here," he approached and without

seeming to notice the titles, swept both books from her hands.

"I'll put them here under your sweater where you won't

forget them. And here," Buck stopped and selected one more

book. "This is a classic, lots of adventure on the high seas. I

know you'll love it."

Something in Buck's voice made Smokey's eyes fly to his

face, but she saw nothing to hint at his knowing about her

sailing. The urge to tell Jenny and Buck all about herself

pressed in strongly upon her at that point, but she didn't know

how to begin, and it wouldn't have mattered anyway. Buck no

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51

more set the books with her sweater than one of his servants

announced that lunch was waiting^

Smokey asked herself how many times she was going to

make a fool of herself in front of this family. The meal had

been a disaster. Buck had bowed his head to thank God for

their meal, but before he could pray, Dallas walked in. Suddenly

Smokey's mouth went completely dry as he sat opposite

her and bowed his head for the prayer. Smokey didn't hear a

word of it. She stared at the top of Dallas' head like a woman

who'd taken leave of her senses. And that was only the beginning.

She spilled her water twice, once into her lap and once

across the table. She poked herself in the cheek with her fork

when Dallas was talking because she was giving more attention

to his wonderful smile than to what she was doing.

Questions were directed to her throughout the meal as

the family attempted to include her, but beyond monosyllabic

replies, accompanied by a rather bewildered expression, she

was mute. The meal seemed to last forever.

Over dessert Smokey berated herself without mercy. Why

in the world did it never occur to you that Dallas would be

here today? He probably lives here when he's in port. He also

probably thinks you belong in an asylum.

"Well, I've got to be off," Dallas suddenly spoke into

Smokey's riotous thoughts. "Thanks for lunch, Buck I'll see

you tonight." Dallas bid everyone goodbye, but beyond a

strange little smile, Smokey didn't seem to notice.

Dallas made his way out of the house and shut the door,

but paused on the front step and looked back at the closed

portal.

^fcwiy's new friend is certainly an odd little thing, he

~ ". in confusion. His mind moved backward over lunch,

checking to see if he had said or done anything that might

have explained her nervousness. He couldn't think of a thing.

As he walked up the street, his mind lingered on Smokey

for just an instant more. She wasn't like any of Jenny's other

friends, but Dallas mistakenly thought he understood the

attraction. Smokey Simmons was a rather pathetic woman,

and his entire family had always had a soft spot for abandoned

pets.

"Do you really have to leave?"

"It's been wonderful, Jenny, but I need to get home. I can't

thank you enough for the lovely time I've had, and please

thank Buck too."

It was the afternoon of the next day and Smokey knew she

had been rather abrupt.

"You'll come again, won't you, Smokey?" Tate put in when

he saw his wife's crestfallen look. Smokey had announced at

lunch that she would be leaving that day, and even though Tate

was very busy, he knew that Jenny would need his support.

"Of course I will," Smokey said with a chuckle. "I'll be

back so often that you'll be sick of the sight of me."

Jenny's hands came to Smokey's upper arms in a gesture

that was almost fierce. "That's not going to happen, Smokey,"

she told her seriously. "I wish you could stay for the rest of the

summer."

"Oh, Jenny, thank you." Smokey spoke with her heart in

her eyes. "That means so much to me. I don't make friends

easily, and I know there's a lot about me that I haven't shared,

but--"

"None of that matters," Jenny cut in. "We'll be here, and

you'll be welcome at any time."

The women hugged for a long moment before Smokey

boarded the stage. Tate had offered to take her home that

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evening, but Smokey had wanted to leave that afternoon.

They all parted on the best of terms, but Smokey felt something

like an ache around her heart as the stage pulled away.

She didn't say much once she was back at Wiila's, and

neither Willa nor Darsey pressed her. In fact, she was quiet for

the next two days. Not until she was aboard her ship and out to

sea did she face all the hurts she was experiencing. Her men

left her alone while she had a long, hard cry in her cabin, and

when she finally emerged she felt a little more like herself, the

captain of the Aramis.

seven weeks later

the london port was abuzz with activity, but Dallas took

little notice from his place on theZeja&yr. He had an appointment

with a friend, and for the moment all he cared about was

getting his ship unloaded so he could be on his way.

Dallas stood on the deck as his men, all stripped to the

waist, carried crates to the docks. For the most part the

operation was going smoothly, but a sudden crowd of sailors

sauntering their way through his men and toward another

ship suddenly made Dallas feel as if he should be on the dock

himself; fights could break out so swiftly.

He'd no more gained his footing on the quay than a small

sailor walking past him with the others and wearing a knit hat

caught his eye. The sailor didn't look at him, but Dallas studied

the smaller man's profile as he passed and pondered as to

where he might know him.

He did a double take when he realized how closely the

sailor resembled his sister's friend Dallas figured she must

have a brother. A huge fellow was with the small man, and just

steps down the quay he had stepped between them so that the

smaller man was lost to view. Dallas shrugged at his own

imagination. He saw so many people in his work that after a

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while they all looked the same. He put the entire incident

from his mind in order to finish the task at hand

Two hours later, clean and pressed, a carriage was dropping

him at the door of White's Club. He was resplendent in all

black, save for a snow-white shirt and cravat, for his luncheon

engagement with Brandon Hawkesbury, Duke of Briscoe.

"Well, Hawk, I understand that congratulations are in

order."

"Indeed," Brandon inclined his dark, handsome head, his

eyes sparkling with pleasure. "My son, Sterling, is three weeks

old today, and Sunny is doing fine."

"Please give her my best and this," Dallas paused and

brought a small box from his pocket. "It's for your son."

Brandon opened the box and laughed. A small gold loop,

much like the one Dallas usually wore in his ear, winked at

him from a bed of satin.

"I'm not sure his mother will appreciate the gesture, but I

thank you."

Dallas grinned in reply, but Brandon's next words to him

brought the conversation to a serious note.

"How is business?"

Dallas grimaced. "It could be better."

"You haven't been hit by Haamich Wynn, have you?"

"The pirate? No. In fact, I'm not sure I believe he exists."

"I felt the same way," Brandon admitted, "until a month

ago when he hit one of my own ships. No one was killed, but I

lost valuable cargo. Rumor has it that he's a peer of the realm."

Dallas whistled low. "I'll keep my eyes open in the future."

"I'd appreciate that for your sake, as well as my own. Now,

you haven't really answered my question."

Dallas sighed and sat quietly before admitting, "In truth,

ga bit discouraged My long-range plan should have had me

"^in Maine right now, building my first ship."

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Brandon took in his friend's grief and then spoke softly,

"Dallas, if you'd only let me help you, I'd--"

Dallas forestalled him with a raised hand "Thank you,

Hawk, but I want to keep trying on my own. If things don't turn

around by the first of next year, March at the latest, I may be in

touch."

Brandon agreed with a nod and then said, "You're a fine

captain, Dallas. What exactly is going on?"

"Smoke," he stated simply. "He's into port like a thief in the

night, moving like mist on the water. I never get word of goods

before he does, and he's come and gone before I can get the Zephyr moving." Dallas stopped talking when an odd look

passed over Brandon's face.