When she stood, the breeze nearly lifted her bonnet from her head. She tugged hard on the ribbons beneath her chin and used a rolling gait to steady herself while she made her way to Christopher’s side. He was seated at the tiller and was guiding the boat out toward the center of the estuary leading to the river. One of his men trimmed the sail as the breeze shifted the closer they came to the river’s mouth.
She watched and listened for the wild flapping and loud cracks of the sail when the gusts and big shifts hit the boat. At the last minute a large swell made the ship jerk a bit and she fell onto the bench next to the captain.
He looked across the tiller and his gaze settled on her lips before moving quickly up to her eyes. After motioning to one of his men to take charge of steering the boat, he moved close to her side and bent his head toward hers. He moved his lips close to her ear and said, “Now we can talk without everyone listening to what we say.”
She laughed and grabbed at the brim of her hat when it lifted in a small gust. “If they can’t hear what we’re saying, they’ll make something up tomorrow to pass along as gossip in the marketplace.” She’d moved her lips close to his ear to reply, and elicited a burst of laughter from him. He was a happy man in spite of what fate had thrown his way.
The more time she spent with Christopher, the more she found to like. What a pity she’d have to push him away after their little charade was finished for the benefit of her father.
Chris fearedhe might be having a fit of apoplexy, his heart was beating so fast.Steady on, he told himself. Rachel was not his, even though they had to play the part of a courting couple. In another year, their sham of an engagement would end and she’d leave his ship at Portsmouth to step onto the shore to begin to live the life she chose. He would not stand in her way.
At a tug on his jacket sleeve, he looked down to see her motioning for him to lean his ear to the level of her lips again. Good Lord, how much more closeness to Rachel could he stand before bursting into flames?
When he leaned down, she pulled him in and asked, “Why does the island seem so near, yet it is taking us so long to get there?”
It was his turn to put his lips near her ear. “It’s the wind. It’s blowing from the island. We have to keep turning against the wind to make forward motion, like this…” He put the edge of his hand against the center of her palm and kept turning it like a ship tacking against the wind.
The heat of her palm warmed him even through her lace glove rubbing against the side of his hand he’d bared to demonstrate the sailing technique.
He yearned to hold her in his arms and mark her as his own, but the rituals of a proper engagement stood between them. Appearances were everything. Rachel was going through the motions of courting and an eventual engagement to please her father, and to give her the life she sought.
Chris worried about his heart. The poor thing beat on erratically whenever Rachel drew near. He had no idea how he’d deliver the bad news to the poor thing that didn’t know any better and was holding out for the hope of love.
Rachel sneakeda sideways look at Christopher. Leaning against his left shoulder to steal snatches of conversation, she would never suspect, if she didn’t already know, that he was missing his right arm. Rachel had encountered plenty of “whole” men over her lifetime. This man was equal to and more than any of them. She sucked in a breath at a pang of guilt. How could she use him to fulfill her dreams, and then walk away when they reached the dock in England?
But then again, he’d been in favor of the ruse of a false engagement. Perhaps he did not wish to be burdened with a wife any more than she wanted to be tied to a husband.
On a final strong gust of wind, they reached the island, and Christopher’s crew, with the help of the male students, leaped onto the rocky beach to pull the boat up far enough to tie off the bow line on a stubby tree along the shore. They threw an anchor off the stern into the shallow water to keep the ship from being buffeted by the tidal swells pushing past the island.
Both crew and students formed a line up the rocks and sand to pass the picnic provisions to the women who laid out blankets for sitting on the sandy grass of the island. A series of boxes and barrels unloaded from the ship were lifted into place to hold the feast.
Rachel reluctantly left Christopher’s side to help Tenneh and Mrs Chelly serve the food they’d been preparing in the mission kitchen for days: Pap-cakes of maize, vegetables and peppers; sweet, juicy melons fresh from the garden; large rounds of fresh baked bread from the outdoor oven; roast chicken; and beef donated by one of the farmers who attended the mission church. Chris stood and poured lemonade from ship’s casks into the tin cups everyone had brought, after they’d filled their tin plates with the bounty from the mission kitchen.
After everyone had been fed, Rachel and Tenneh found places on one of the blankets, along with Mrs Chelly. When Christopher approached with his own plate, they made room for him, and Mrs Chelly raised her cup of lemonade in acknowledgment of her thanks for the island outing.
“I know you do this so you can be near Rachel, but we thank you for this island picnic.
He lowered his head, visibly embarrassed. “All I did was provide the shore boat. You ladies did all the hard work.” He lifted his cup as well.
Rachel rolled her eyes at how kind and polite Mrs Chelly was acting. She’d shed her usual caustic remarks and seemed to be trying to charm Christopher.
When the woman turned her head away to answer a question from one of the students, he met her gaze over the top of Mrs Chelly’s head. The wry grin and wink he gave her was like an acknowledgment of a secret they shared. Both of them were on to the cook’s sly ways.
8
Chris reached out for Rachel’s hand and helped her up from the picnic blanket. “You’ve been working way too hard for days. Why don’t you come with me to explore the island? We’ll take Tenneh and Mingo and Eli along.”
She looked back toward her father who was holding court with a large group of her students, using the outing to the island as a teaching moment about the history of the river. She waved and motioned to him she was going for a walk with Christopher and her students. He looked up, gave her a wide smile of consent, and continued talking to the group gathered around him.
“Where shall we go first?” Her cheeks glowed from the wind and the heat of the sun. Her eyes were wide with excitement at the prospect of an adventure.
“This island is not that wide, or long, but there are some old ruins of a fort the Spaniards built here in the last century. We could walk there and then go down to the beach to skip stones across the water.” Chris fairly itched to clasp her hand in his, but he forced himself to go slowly and instead settled for walking close to her side.
When she did not object or move away, he felt absurdly elated, like he’d passed some invisible test for which there were no answers. Her three students trailed some distance behind, as if they were giving him every opportunity to speak to Rachel in private.
He sensed a subtle conspiracy and smiled in spite of his misgivings. If everyone was working to throw them together, he would enjoy the moment and treat it as a rare gift.
She suddenly broke the silence. “What is your family like, back in England? What would they think of you being with a woman like me?”
