“Expect the unexpected, ’tis said.” Her quiet words rolled over him as her green gaze held his. “I’ve mainly come because I’m seeking the position of lightkeeper.”
He swallowed, not entirely astounded, but still ... “The position.”
“After much thought...” Her lovely face turned pensive. “If you’ve not already decided on a keeper, that is.”
He looked down at the papers before him, half a dozen men’s names scrawled as possible appointees. None but two seemed fit for the task. Both were capable. Middle-aged and able-bodied. Proven Virginians who had seen military service.
“Why do you wish to turn lightkeeper instead of being the successful chocolatier and almshouse benefactress you are?” He felt beyond his ken questioning her, this woman who had his heart so entangled, but there must be some semblance of an interview even if he refused her the position.
“Shaw’s Chocolate was my mother’s business and the almshouse her heart’s cause, though I’ve been glad to stand in her stead.” She folded her hands atop her lap, her lush cape settling in lavender folds about her. “But in truth, I’m unnecessary to its continuance now that it’s well established and worked by indentures. As for the almshouse, the poor will always be with us, sadly.”
No refuting that. Scripture said the same. But another matter still tore at him. Ned’s presence seemed to come between them, a questionthat begged settling once and for all. Did this mean she’d refused him? Even after he’d sought her father’s permission to court her? The silence needed filling, but how to frame such a delicate question?
“Have you no other ... opportunities, Es—Miss Shaw? Choices?”
She lowered her gaze, a pink cast to her features. “If you imply any suitors, nay. I am not meant to reside at Mount Autrey. And I have said as much to your sea chaplain.”
Relief nearly made him light-headed. Still, there were other hurdles to overcome. “You realize island life is very different than living on the mainland.”
“Understandably. But I would do my part for Virginia and the Chesapeake.”
“You’d be the first lady lightkeeper in the colonies. Other than the woman in Rhode Island who took up the task when her keeper husband died.”
“First of many, is my guess.”
“What does your father say?”
A pause. “He knows nothing of my coming here.” She looked past him to the map pinned to the wall behind him. “I am, I remind you, of an age to do what I will.”
He’d not forgotten her age, nor his. Even now the pinch in his knees reminded him of the rheumatism that plagued aging seamen. “’Tis often lonesome and dangerous. As keeper you’d do far more than clean and polish glass.”
“Do you doubt my abilities, Captain?”
“Nay, I admire you for rising to the challenge.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. “You make me think twice about the men who seek the appointment. None of them rowed out in a jolly to win the position.”
She smiled, then grew serious again. “I can swim, surely a requirement. I keep a cool head under trying conditions. I prefer solitude to society.” She took a breath. “I’m stronger than I look.”
The sun slanted through a window, casting her in angelic light. It made her look ... vulnerable. Too fragile for the rigors of lighthouse keeper.
“You must be thirsty.” He gestured toward the bottle on a tray at the edge of his desk. “Madeira?”
With a nod, she reached into her pocket and produced a small brown package tied with twine. “Madeira pairs nicely with chocolate.”
Her smile warmed him all over. He reached for the wine and poured it into two glasses engraved with fruiting vines while she unwrapped her offering.
“Chocolate meringues,” she told him, passing him a confection. “Though I’ve also brought some almonds, as I recall your fondness for those long ago.”
He’d had no Shaw’s chocolate since his return to the island, and these were like a siren’s song. Only there was no ship’s mast to tie himself to so he could stay on course. He was now in dire straits, his good intentions sinking as he came under her spell again.
He passed her a glass, the wine a rich brown not unlike the chocolate. “Are you attempting to bribe me, Miss Shaw?”
Laughter lit her eyes. So she did have some merriment left in her soul. “Guilty, Captain Lennox—unashamedly so.”
He raised his glass in a toast. “To the newly appointed lightkeeper of Indigo Island.”
Lips parted, she stared back at him, her glass suspended in midair. “Surely you do not jest.”
“On my honor.”
