She gave the woman a warm smile. “We’d be honored to stay for supper, Mistress MacInnis. But I hope you’ll let me help you.”
“Aye.” Margaret MacInnis pointed to the blackened pot that hung over the fire. “I’ve mutton roasting. I’ll see to that, while you slice a loaf of bread. Mind, it’s still warm from the oven.”
Darcy uncovered the bread and breathed in the wonderful fragrance. For the space of a moment she experienced such a wave of homesickness, she nearly wept. The feeling caught her by surprise. She could see in her mind’s eye her beloved family sitting around the table. Grandpapa, Ambrosia, Bethany, Winnie and Mistress Coffey. Oh, how she suddenly missed them all. Desperately. The thought of their dear faces brought such a wave of tenderness.
She forced herself to work, slicing the bread, setting it on a platter, carrying it to the table. It occurred to her that Gryf looked more relaxed than he had at any time since she’d met him. He sipped his tea and chatted with Margaret MacInnis as though they’d known each other for a lifetime.
Sailors had that ability to make themselves at home all over the world. With all sorts of strangers, who, in the course of an hour or a day, could become lifelong friends. Gray had had such a gift. She closed her eyes against the pain of remembering.
“Gryf, you and the lad can wash up in that basin.” Margaret pointed to a pretty bowl and pitcher on a stand.
“Come on, Whit. If you can tear yourself away from the pups long enough, Mistress MacInnis has offered to share her supper.”
“It smells good.” When the boy stood, the puppies made a mad dash for the big dog, who awoke from sleep to nurse her babies.
“Aye. It does indeed.” Beside him, Gryf dried his hands on a square of linen.
When the two were seated, Margaret MacInnis handed Gryf a platter of meat swimming in rich gravy and a platter of potatoes mashed with turnips. When their plates were filled, she poured tea, then reached up in the cupboard and retrieved a decanter of whiskey.
“I’ve been saving this for company.” She filled a tumbler and set it in front of Gryf. “My husband drank this only on special occasions. And this is a very special day for me.”
Gryf tasted and felt the whiskey burn a path of fire down his throat. Then he smiled at the old woman and lifted the tumbler in a salute. “It’s a special day for me, as well, Mistress MacInnis. And for my—” he turned to include Darcy and Whit “—family as well.”
He saw the look of surprise on Whit’s face, and the laughter that sprang to Darcy’s lips. Then he turned to the old woman and gave her a dazzling smile before draining the tumbler and bending to his meal.
And what a meal it was. After Fielding’s boiled meat and hard biscuits, this was a rare feast. Meat roasted slowly until it fell off the bone and melted in the mouth. Potatoes and turnips mashed together with rich cream and butter. Crusty bread to mop up the gravy. And as if that weren’t enough, for dessert a heavenly confection of scones and pudding that tasted as if the angels themselves had prepared it in heaven.
When he was offered a second helping, Whit was forced to refuse. “I’m afraid if I eat one more bite I’ll split wide open, Mistress MacInnis.”
That had the old woman cackling with laughter. “My Robby used to say that very thing, lad. Oh, he was a fine big lad, he was. But even Robby couldn’t eat two helpings of my scone pudding.”
While she poured tea, the boy returned to the basket and ran a finger over the now sleeping pups.
“It looks like they’ve had too much to eat, too. They can’t even open their eyes.”
“Their mum’ll be glad. Poor lass never gets any rest with the six of them pulling at her.” Margaret filled a basin with hot water from the kettle and began to wash the dishes.
Beside her, Darcy dried, admiring the delicate pattern on the plates. “You’ve a fine home, Mistress MacInnis. And such pretty things.”
“Aye. The MacInnis, rest his soul, used to bring me fine things from all over the world. Porcelain. Crystal. China. Lace. And my lads did the same.” She lay a hand over Darcy’s. “But it isn’t fine pretty things that bring us joy in this life, lass. It’s love. And family. And doing simple things together.”
She glanced over at the boy, still kneeling beside the basket. “He’s a bonny lad. And the way he looks at you and Gryf, there’s no doubt how much he loves you. Treasure that love, lass. For it’s a precious thing. And when the hard times come, as they surely will, the love is what will sustain you.”
Darcy was silent as she hung the linen cloth to dry. She had a lump in her throat that was threatening to choke her. But whether from the old woman’s words, or from the thought of what she’d loved and lost, she couldn’t be certain.
When she turned, Margaret MacInnis was standing beside Whit, looking down at the puppies.
“Which is your favorite, lad?”
He never even hesitated. “That one. The smallest one.”
“Why, lad?”
He touched his finger to the soft ruff of its neck. “The others kept pushing him aside. He had to fight to get anything to eat, but he kept trying until he finally made it.”
“He’s a fighter, is he, lad?”
“Aye.”
“How would you like to take him with you?”
The boy’s eyes went so wide, they seemed too big for his face. “Do you mean it, Mistress MacInnis?”
“I do. That is, if your folks approve.”
Whit turned to Gryf and Darcy. “Could I? Could I keep him?”
It was on the tip of Darcy’s tongue to remind him that a ship was no place for a puppy. But how could she possibly be the one to erase the joy in those eyes?
When Darcy held her silence, Gryf muttered, “Newt will have your head.”
“Aye. That he will.” Darcy knew the old man well enough to figure that, when he caught sight of a puppy, he’d probably let loose with every rich, ripe curse he’d ever learned. Still, she was the captain. And there were times when she simply had to remind the old man of that fact.
“If you want him, Whit, the puppy is yours.”
“Do you mean it? Oh, you do. You do.” He raced across the room and hugged her fiercely, then turned and hugged Gryf, before dancing back to the old woman to hug her as well.
She looked startled for a moment, then hugged him back. Laughing, she said, “His mum will have one less to feed now. And I’ll be satisfied that the pup has someone who’ll love him.”
“I will love him, Mistress MacInnis.” Whit picked up the sleeping pup and held him close to his chest. “And I’ll take the very best care of him. I promise.”
Darcy glanced at the growing shadows and said, “We’d best leave now. Newt will be waiting.”
“Aye.” Gryf opened the door and held it while Darcy and Whit stepped outside.
As he turned to say goodbye, Margaret MacInnis caught him in a warm embrace. “I thank you, Gryf, for coming to my aid. I’d been feeling like an old, foolish woman, far from home, and too tired to go on. But now, after your lovely visit, I’m feeling almost young again. I’m remembering all those years ago when I was wildly in love, and raising a pack of my own pups.”
“I’m glad.” He returned the hug and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You made our visit to Orkney more pleasant that we could have ever imagined. And you’ve made one little boy happier than I’ve ever seen him.”
“It’s small enough payment for what you gave me.” She took a step back, and with a twinkle in her eyes said, “Now if you’ve any sense in that head of yours, you’ll take the lass home and make several more lads like that one, to fill your home with love and laughter.”
He gave her a wink. “I thank you, Margaret MacInnis. You’re a wise woman indeed.”
As he and Darcy started back toward the wharf, Whit trailed behind, cuddling the pup inside his coat.
Darcy turned to Gryf. “What did Mistress MacInnis say to you when you were leaving?”
“I’ll tell you sometime.” He caught he
r hand in his and felt the quick jolt to his heart. And wondered why it had taken him the entire day to work up the courage to touch her.
Maybe, he reasoned, because with every touch, he felt himself being drawn ever more tightly into her web. As much as he might resent filling the shoes of another, he couldn’t deny the envy he felt for a dead man who had inspired so much love and loyalty from this beautiful, beguiling woman. And try as he might, there was no way he could resist the pull of her charms.
Chapter Eleven
“It’s about time.” Newton was pacing the dock, hands behind his back, a frown furrowing his leathery brow. He jerked a thumb toward the waiting skiff. “The rest of the crew is already back aboard the Undaunted. I was thinking I might have to start searching the village for ye, cottage by cottage.”
“Sorry, Newt.” Darcy lay a hand on his arm. “We were having such a grand time, we just forgot.”
“A grand time? Ye’re out of breath.” His concern grew as he studied her red cheeks, her hair flying in the breeze.
“We had to run to make it back in time. I knew you’d be waiting and wondering.”
And worrying. But he didn’t bother to admit that. He helped her into the skiff and picked up the oars, ignoring Gryf and Whit, who scrambled in behind him.
“Here, Newt. I’ll see to that.” Taking pity on him, Gryf took the oars from him.
The old man made no protest as he settled himself beside Darcy. Then he waited for his heart to settle, as well. He’d been pacing and worrying himself half to death over the lass. And she off having a grand time. But what did that mean? And just how grand had it been? Alarm had his heart racing again.
As soon as they were seated, Gryf began to row toward the ship in the harbor. From her vantage point Darcy watched the effortless way he bent to the task, arms barely straining as the oars cut through the choppy water. There it was again. That strange tingling deep inside whenever she looked at him. He was so strong. Almost as strong as…
“Where’ve ye been all afternoon, lass?” Newton’s voice was sharp with concern.
She pulled herself back. She had to stop thinking like this. “In the home of Margaret MacInnis.”
At the old man’s questioning look she explained. “On our stroll through the village we met a sweet old lady who needed a bit of help. Gryf carried her basket and offered his arm. And she repaid his kindness by inviting us to share her supper.”
“Ye’ve been at her cottage the whole time?”
“Aye. And what a lovely home it was. Big and cozy, and filled with treasures from around the world. Her husband and sons were sailors.”
As she went on describing their afternoon, the old man breathed a sigh of relief. Not too much could have passed between the lass and Gryf if they were in the company of others the entire time. For that, he offered a word of thanks.
Still, he was grateful to have her back, and determined that she wouldn’t leave his sight again. He’d spent the past hour tormenting himself on just how he’d break the news to her family that she’d run off with a man who reminded her of Gray Barton.
Gryf heard the old man’s sigh and saw the pleasure that lit his eyes. He nearly laughed aloud. Newton was as transparent as the widow MacInnis’s crystal. It was obvious that he’d been worried sick about Darcy’s precious honor.
Not that he blamed him, Gryf was forced to admit. He’d seen the looks of admiration from the lads in the village as she’d walked beside Whit. Her beauty would be enough to turn any man’s head. But what they didn’t know, and he’d only begun to discover, was the surprising sweetness beneath that beauty. A sweetness that would make it difficult for any man of honor to take advantage of her.
A man of honor. Had he been one? Was he now? He supposed only time would tell.
“Here we are.” Newt reached out and climbed the rope ladder to the deck of the Undaunted, with Darcy following.
When the old man turned around, Whit was just clambering over the rail, while holding one hand to his chest.
“Here, lad.” He reached out a hand. “Have ye hurt ye’rself?” He’d been so concerned about Darcy, he hadn’t paid any attention whatever to the lad.
“Nay, Newt. I was just holding on to my pet so he wouldn’t fall.” Whit reached inside his coat and removed the ball of fluff.
At the sight of it the old sailor took a step back, his eyes narrowing. “Is that a…dog?”
“Aye, Newt. Isn’t he beautiful? Mistress MacInnis gave him to me. Darcy said I could keep him.”
“She did, did she?” He whirled, pinning her with a look. “And who did ye think would clean up his messes? Or were ye thinking a puppy would just clean up after himself?”
“Whit promised to clean up after the pup.” She stepped closer to the boy and brushed a hand over the soft yellow head. “Look at him, Newt. Isn’t he adorable?”
“He’s a dog, lass. And a baby one at that. They’re always cute, for about a minute. Then they do what animals do. They chew what doesn’t belong to them, and leave their…leavings where we can step in them.” His voice rose. “I’ll not have that animal aboard the Undaunted.”
The little boy stared from Darcy to Newt, then back again. He’d never seen the old man so quick to anger. He just hoped the captain was a match for her first mate.
Instead of anger, Darcy surprised him by smiling. “Would you like to row back to shore and accompany Whit to Mistress MacInnis’s, Newt?”
“In the dark?”
“That’s the choice you have. Take the puppy back home to its mother, or allow Whit to keep it aboard ship.”
The old man stood glowering at her. “There’s another choice, lass. We can toss this…creature overboard and let it sink or swim home.”
Whit tightened his grasp on the pup, determined to fight anyone who tried to do such a cruel thing.
Darcy’s voice remained carefully controlled. “You know that isn’t a choice, Newt. Your heart is far too tender.”
“Tender is it?” The old man felt his temper flare even higher. He’d had to keep it on a short tether while waiting and wondering all alone on the dock. Now that his worst fears hadn’t materialized, he had the luxury of turning all his pent-up anger in another direction. “Would ye like to dare me, lass?”
Darcy stood facing the old man, not at all alarmed at his bluster. She’d expected as much, and had prepared herself for this confrontation. “The puppy was a gift from a sweet woman. It belongs to Whit now, and it’ll be his responsibility to see that it causes no problems aboard the Undaunted.” She turned to Whit. “Do I have your word on this, lad?”
“Aye, Captain.”
The two of them turned to Newton, whose frown had grown more pronounced with each word. “Oh, aye. Easy enough for him to promise. The lad means it. But nobody remembered to tell the pup. Ye can bet all ye’r wages that this…adorable animal will cause more problems than it’s worth.” He turned away. Over his shoulder he called, “Just don’t bother to ask me to set things right. It’s in ye’r hands now, Darcy. Ye’rs and the lad’s.”
He stormed across the deck. When he disappeared below, Whit cleared his throat. “Thanks for standing up to Newt for me, Captain.”
She turned. At the look of adoration in his eyes, she decided not to bother telling him how often she’d witnessed just such displays of temper in her childhood. “I hope I won’t be sorry, Whit. Remember what you agreed to. The pup is your responsibility. Every mess he makes must be cleaned at once.”
“I’ll see to it.” He set the puppy down on the deck and watched as it sniffed its new surroundings.
Gryf, who had remained silent until now, watched the pup’s movements. “Did you give him a name yet, lad?”
“Aye. All the way here I’ve been pondering. And I’ve decided to call him Fearless.”
“Fearless?” Gryf watched as a sudden gust of wind caused the ship to lurch.
With a yelp the pup raced back to squat at Whit’s feet. When he stood up minutes later he l
eft a trail of yellow across the lad’s boots.
Unconcerned, Whit gently lifted the pup in his arms and tucked him inside his coat. “Fearless is going to become a sailor, just like me. And once he gets used to the pitch and roll of the ship, you’ll see. He’ll live up to his name.”
Seeing the serious look in the boy’s eyes, Gryf bit back a smile. “Aye. I’ve no doubt of it. Now you’d best get below and into your hammock. And hope Fearless doesn’t miss his mother too much.”
“How will I know if he’s missing her?”
Now Gryf did smile. “He’ll cry like a baby. And probably wake the entire crew from a sound sleep. If that happens, you’d best find a place to hide. Or one of them may do what Newt suggested, and throw Fearless overboard. And you along with him.”
Darcy lay in her bunk and wondered what had awakened her. In the darkness she strained to hear anything out of the ordinary. But all she heard was the creaking of timber, and the moaning of the wind, along with the rhythmic slap of water against the hull.
Then she heard it. A sound like the bleat of a lamb. She was up and dressed like a cannon shot, and still slipping her arms into the sleeves of her seaman’s coat as she headed toward the sound.
It wasn’t coming from the crew’s cabin, she realized, but from above deck.
She found Whit huddled in a corner of the bow, his blanket draped around his shoulders to ward off the bitter wind. Coming from his arms was the unmistakable sound of high-pitched whining.
He looked up in misery as she approached.
“I don’t know what to do, Captain. Fearless won’t sleep. And he won’t stop crying. I’ve been out here for an hour or more, trying to make him stop. Was I wrong to take him away from his mama and family?”
“Nay, lad. You weren’t wrong.” She knelt beside him and touched a finger to the pup’s head. “He’s old enough to be weaned. But it’s just the newness. He needs some comforting.”
“I’ve tried walking with him, whispering to him. But nothing helps.”
They both looked up as a dark shadow fell over them.
“Gryf.” The boy looked crestfallen. “Did Fearless wake you, too?”