Gryf downed the whiskey in one quick swallow, and saw the serving wench staring toward him with a hopeful smile.
“Newt. Wait.” Before the old sailor could reach the door, Gryf caught up with him and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Stay a while. I…could use a friend. Just until my ship sails.”
When the old man made no effort to resist, Gryf led him back to the table, and signaled to the serving wench, who returned to fill their tumblers.
Newton stared at the amber liquid in his glass, debating the wisdom of what he was about to do. A wiser man would probably head back to MaryCastle to comfort the lass. But, as Gryf had said, he needed a friend.
Newton knew how it felt to be a man alone and in need of a friend. There’d been many a time in his life when he’d felt the same.
Casting aside his conscience, the old man lifted the tumbler to his lips and drank deeply.
“Newton Findlay.” Mistress Coffey opened the front door, then drew back, sniffing the air with a look of disgust. “You’re drunk.”
“Aye. That I am.” The walk from the village in the predawn light had his head pounding, his stomach churning. And though he was none too steady, he stumbled across the threshold to see the entire Lambert family standing on the stairway, glowering at him.
He lifted his head and stood very straight and tall, striving for a little dignity.
“Did you see him, Newt?” Darcy pushed past the others and hurried to his side.
“Aye, lass. I’ve been with him all night. I suppose I shouldn’t have, but I thought maybe I could persuade him to come back.”
“He isn’t coming back, is he, Newt?”
“Nay, lass.” He saw her recoil as though he’d struck her, and he reached out. But she evaded his hand. Her eyes looked a little too wide. The color on her cheeks a little too high.
“He’s even now leaving on a ship bound for India.”
“You saw him board?”
“Aye.” Ashamed, he ducked his head and wished the floor would stop moving.
“What about Whit? What is he supposed to do?”
“He said he’d send money for the lad’s keep. And when he finds a place to put down roots, he’ll send for him.” He looked up. “He’s a sad, lost soul, lass, who loves ye and the lad, but doesn’t feel worthy of ye.”
“By heaven, he isn’t worthy of them,” Geoffrey Lambert shouted. “The scoundrel. I should have gone to Land’s End myself, and defended my granddaughter’s honor.”
“Don’t, Grandpapa.” Darcy went to the old man and drew her arms around him. “I understand how you feel. You’ve always been able to give me whatever I wanted. And this time, you can’t. It’s out of your hands. And out of mine. I know that hurts you. But I’ll—I’ll survive. We all will.”
“Darcy, I’m so sorry.” Ambrosia touched a hand to her sister’s arm, reeling with guilt. “This was all my fault.”
“And mine,” Bethany added. “If we hadn’t meddled…”
“Nay. This wasn’t your doing. It was mine. All mine. And Gryf was right. I did want him to be Gray. Or maybe I wanted Gray to turn into Gryf. I don’t know what I wanted. All I know is, he’s gone.” Darcy could feel the tears starting, and knew she had to escape before the others saw her make a fool of herself. “I’m going…up on the widow’s walk for some fresh air.”
Feeling like a coward, she fled. Leaving her family to stare helplessly after her.
The sails of the Jenny Mae fluttered in the early morning breeze. From her position on the widow’s walk, Darcy could even make out some of the crew bustling around the deck. Which of them was Gryf? she wondered. The one just climbing the rigging? The one standing near the rail, staring toward shore?
She’d promised her grandfather she would survive. But right now, this very moment, she had to admit to herself that she’d lied. Her heart was broken into so many pieces, there was nothing left of it. If she’d thought the loss of Gray was painful, the loss of Gryf was twice as bad. She’d loved him. Not just innocently, as a child loved a hero. But completely, absolutely, as a woman loved a man. She’d given everything there was to give. Trust. Honesty. Pride. And he’d taken it all, leaving her with nothing. Nothing but tears.
They came now. Big wet tears, rolling like rivers down her cheeks, soaking the front of her gown. She hated them. Hated the weakness they represented. But there it was. Despite all her fine attempts at being a tough sea captain, she was turning into a whimpering, foolish female, wasting tears over a man. A man who didn’t even have the decency to care about the hearts he’d trampled before walking out.
She let the tears flow like rain, without bothering to try to stop them. There was no one here to see her humiliation. And no longer any reason to put up a brave front.
She gave herself up to the misery, burying her face in her hands while her whole body shook.
“Don’t do that. I can’t bear it.” The deep voice behind her had her whirling.
“Gryf.” She wiped at her eyes, convinced that she had imagined him. “What are you…? I thought…” She pointed to the ship. “Newt said he saw you go aboard.”
“I did. And I thought I could go through with it. But the idea of sailing to India, while you were here…” He shook his head, still shaken at the sight of her crying. It twisted the knife that was already imbedded in his heart. “You’ve always been so brave. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“You didn’t.” She wiped furiously at her eyes. “I’m not crying.”
“Aye. I can see that.” He would allow her her dignity.
He cleared his throat. “Not that anything’s changed, Darcy. I still believe I have no right to your love. And no right to ask you to share my life, when I have no idea what my future will be.”
“Do any of us know the future, Gryf?”
Her question had him pausing. It was so like her to cut through all the unimportant details to the very heart of the matter. “Nay. But at least most people have knowledge of their past.” He chose his words carefully. “I love you, Darcy. More than life itself. I’d be the happiest man in the world if you’d agree to marry me.” When he saw the way her lips pursed to reply he held up his hand in warning. “But if you do, you need to accept the hard, cold fact that some day I may remember my past. A past that might include things we’d rather not know about. Perhaps even a wife and family.”
She nudged aside the fear that trickled along her spine. She wouldn’t think about that now. She’d save such thoughts for long winter nights, when the wind howled, and the soul was filled with trepidation. Right now she would cling to what he offered. For it was the only thing she truly wanted.
“I’m willing to take that risk, Gryf. But you must take the same risk.”
He shook his head. “Darcy, for me there is no risk. I love you. Desperately. But I don’t want to cause you even more pain in the future.”
She faced him, the tears drying on her cheeks. “I love you so much, Gryf. I want us to be together, for as long as we can. And if the day ever comes that we have to part, I’ll at least have these memories. And so will you.”
“Oh, Darcy, my love.” He opened his arms and she stepped into them.
Just then they heard the sound of cheering, and turned to see the entire family, as well as young Whit, gathered around the stairway, shamelessly listening to their every word. Even Geoffrey Lambert, who had been ready to engage Gryf in battle for her honor, was now smiling and cheering.
While they continued calling out words of cheer, Darcy whispered in Gryf’s ear, and he nodded.
He lifted a hand to silence the family, then turned to Whit. “You heard me ask Darcy to be my wife, lad. Now she and I would like to ask you if you’d care to be our son.”
“You mean it?” The boy’s eyes went round with surprise.
“Aye, lad.”
“You mean forever? The way Noah is Bethany and Kane’s son forever?”
“That’s what we mean, Whit.”
“But what if you
decide to leave us? I heard you tell Darcy that you might have another family somewhere.”
Gryf shook his head. “I have no answer for that, lad. If my other life intrudes, I’ll have to deal with it. Until then, I’ll be the best father I can be to you. Is that enough?”
“Enough?” Overcome, the lad buried his face in his puppy’s neck to hide his tears of joy.
Geoffrey Lambert cleared his throat. There was entirely too much weeping going on here. He needed to take charge of the situation. “I’d say this calls for a celebration. Mistress Coffey. Fetch a decanter of ale and bring it to the parlor.”
At that, Newton groaned and held a hand to his head.
While the others hurried down to the parlor, Gryf caught Darcy’s hand and held her back.
“Wait, love. Before I face the entire Lambert family, I need this.” He drew her into the circle of his arms and kissed her long and slow and deep, until they were both sighing as they struggled to catch their breath.
When they finally came up for air, he caught her hand and led her toward the stairs. “All right, love. Now I’m fortified enough to face the celebration downstairs. But promise me we’ll find some time later today for a more…private celebration.”
She drew him back and gave him an impish smile. “I know my family well enough to know they won’t miss us for at least an hour.”
“Right now? You’re sure?” His smile grew.
“Aye.”
He lifted her in his arms and carried her toward his room. His heart had never felt so light. As if the burden he’d carried all these long months had suddenly been completely erased. And it was all because of this woman in his arms, he realized. He may be a man with no past. But old Newt was right. He had everything that mattered. A woman who loved him. A most amazing woman. In fact, in the entire world, he doubted there was another one quite like her.
He had a feeling that from this day on, his future with Darcy Lambert would be anything but ordinary.
Epilogue
The church in Land’s End was quickly filling with villagers who had come to witness the marriage of Darcy Lambert, youngest granddaughter of Geoffrey Lambert, and the mystery man who’d won her heart. Some who saw him were convinced that he was Gray Barton, for they’d known the lad all his life, and this man bore a striking resemblance. But there were others who said he was too bold, too dangerous in appearance, to be the sweet lad they remembered.
The old vicar, Thatcher Goodwin, had invited the young vicar, Ian Welland, now living in Mead, to assist in the ceremony. He was especially pleased that the young vicar’s wife, Jenna, was skilled with a harp and had a voice like an angel. Their presence would add a great deal to the solemnity of the occasion.
Darcy stood in a small knave of the church, fidgeting as her two sisters and Mistress Coffey circled her, making final adjustments to the gown that was as delicate as the gossamer wings of a butterfly.
“Oh, you look just like your mother did when she wore this.” The housekeeper tightened the white satin sash around Darcy’s tiny waist. “She looked just like a queen in this gown. And so do you.”
“Thanks to you, Mistress Coffey. I don’t know how you’ve managed to keep it in such excellent condition, considering that I’m the fourth in our family to wear it.”
“The last. But certainly not the least,” came Geoffrey’s booming voice as he and Miss Mellon entered.
“Grandpapa. Winnie.” Darcy started forward to accept their kisses.
“Doesn’t Darcy look splendid, Grandpapa?” Bethany draped a wispy white veil over her sister’s head and stood back so they could all admire her.
“Aye, you do, lass.” The old man gathered her close and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I still can’t believe my youngest granddaughter is about to be wed. Are you as happy as you look, Darcy?”
“I’ve never felt such joy, Grandpapa.” She circled her arms around his neck and kissed him, then turned to her old nursemaid. “Have you taken care of the altar, Winnie?”
The old woman beamed. “Wait until you see it, child. At first I wasn’t certain just what to do. There are no wildflowers in the middle of winter. So I gathered tree branches laden with berries, and a few birds’ nests, and adorned the altar with them.”
Darcy clasped the old woman’s hands. “Oh, Winnie, I can’t wait to see it.”
Geoffrey’s eyes twinkled as he looked at the old woman. “I must say that I’ve never seen the altar looking lovelier. What you did was simply inspired, my dearest.”
At his use of the endearment, everyone in the room fell silent. The three sisters glanced at each other with matching looks of surprise.
It was Darcy who asked, with a grin, “Grandpapa, does that little slip of the tongue mean that your intentions toward Winnie are more than friendship?”
The old man had the look of a sly rogue as he caught Miss Mellon’s hand in his. “Aye. I never thought I’d say this. But now that my granddaughters’ futures are secure, I think it’s our turn. I’ve asked Winnie to be my wife. And she has graciously consented.”
“Oh, Winnie.” The three sisters gathered around her to share hugs and kisses, before turning to their grandfather to do the same.
In the midst of all the fuss Riordan and Kane entered the room and joined in the celebration.
After congratulating the old couple, Riordan caught his wife’s hand and drew her close to whisper in her ear. She looked up, eyes moist, and nodded.
He cleared his throat. “I guess this is the perfect time to share our news, as well. Ambrosia and I are going to have a new little seafarer to add to the family tree.”
At the news, everyone started hugging and kissing once more until Mistress Coffey, overcome with all the excitement, burst into tears.
“Oh, it’s all I’ve hoped and prayed for.” She wrapped her arms around Ambrosia, her lips trembling. “I simply can’t wait to hold another baby, and breathe in that wonderful baby scent. And pamper you, my dear, the way I pampered your mother all those years ago. It’s been far too long.”
Ambrosia lay her head on the old woman’s shoulder while her own eyes filled with unexpected tears. “Oh, Mistress Coffey. Aren’t we just the luckiest people in the world?”
“Aye, child. That we are.”
Darcy and Bethany clasped hands and watched the tender scene with the happiest of smiles.
“Well, now.” It was prim Miss Mellon who took charge of their overflowing emotions. “I think it’s time we all went into church and took our places.” She hugged Darcy, then caught Geoffrey’s hand, and the two led a procession from the room.
When the last of them took their leave, Darcy looked up to see Newton standing in the doorway.
“Newt. My, don’t you look fine.”
He gave a look of disdain at the fancy breeches and fine coat the housekeeper had forced on him. “I don’t know why the old biddy cares how I dress. One look at you, lass, and the entire congregation will be blind to all else.”
“Oh, Newt.” She stepped close and wrapped her arms around his neck.
He put out a hand to stop her. “Careful, lass. I’d hate to spoil such perfection.”
“You’re my dearest friend, Newt.” She pressed her cheek to his. “And the finest first mate I’ve ever sailed with.”
“Ye’re not bad ye’rself, lass.”
“Especially since you taught me everything I know.”
“Aye. And a more apt pupil I never had.” He cleared his throat. “Are ye happy, lass?”
“Aye, Newt. Completely.”
He held her a little away and stared into her eyes. “And what about the worry that some day Gryf’s memory might return?”
She shrugged. “I’ll deal with that when it happens. But I’ve decided not to burden myself with what might be.”
“That’s good, lass.” He patted her arm, then stepped back. “I think ye’d better let ye’re husband-to-be come in for a minute or two. Else he’ll wear out the floor on the other side of thi
s door.”
“You mean he’s pacing?”
“Like a caged panther, lass.” He gave her a quick smile. “I’m sure ye’ll find a way to calm his nerves.”
He opened the door and stepped out, calling, “Ye’r bride’s waiting for ye, mate.”
A moment later Gryf walked in. For the space of several seconds he couldn’t seem to find his voice. He simply stared at the vision in white as she walked toward him.
“Are you disappointed, Gryf?”
“Disappointed?” He shook his head. “I’m just…speechless. You’re so lovely, it frightens me.”
“Is that why you’re frowning?” She touched a fingertip to the little line between his brows, hoping to tease away his nerves. Instead, his frown grew.
“Ah. I see what’s wrong.” Her laughter bubbled up. “It’s because I chose to spend my last night before the wedding with my two sisters, in the big bed we’d shared as children. Don’t be jealous, Gryf. It was so special for the three of us. We talked long into the night. We laughed and cried together as well, before we finally drifted into sleep. It was, after all, our last night together as sisters. I promise you, the rest of my nights will be spent with you.”
“Darcy, I understand your desire to share one last night with your sisters. But I must admit, my own sleep was disturbed. I suppose because I’ve grown accustomed to finding you in my arms.”
“Then, if you’re not upset about my sharing the night with my sisters, what could be giving you such a fierce look? Are you having second thoughts?”
“Of course not. But you might.” He turned away, as though choosing his words carefully.
Darcy’s heart flew to her throat, threatening to choke her. She clutched her hands together to keep from reaching out to him.
“I can see that something is troubling you, Gryf. Can you tell me what it is?”
He turned. “Aye. Something happened last night, Darcy. While I was walking along the shore. It was just a flash of memory. But it was very sharp. Very clear.”
She caught her breath, terrified to hear. Equally terrified not to.