Besides, all I could think about was finding my mother.
The morning wore on, and my stomach began to growl as I followed Marcus and Hawk’s progress along Bay Street. Each time Marcus left a business, I looked to him with anticipation, but a quick shake of his head would fill me with disappointment.
Perhaps my mother wasn’t here after all.
At midday, Marcus met me on the street, his countenance heavy. “I’m sorry, lass. No one has heard of Anne Reed.”
“How is that possible?” I asked. “She said she lived here.”
“Mayhap she used a different name.”
I hadn’t thought of that possibility.
“Let’s get something to eat, and we’ll keep trying.” Marcus put his hand at the small of my back.
I inhaled at his gentle touch. It was filled with both understanding and protectiveness, communicating his concern for me.
He led me to an open-air restaurant under a thatch roof. It sat on a point facing the harbor and Hog Island. Dozens of ships had been abandoned on the beach, left to rot in the sun. Others were at anchor in the harbor, waiting for their crews to set sail again.
“Where is Hawk?” I asked.
“He is visiting an old ... friend.” Marcus said the wordfriendin such a way that I suspected Hawk was at a brothel. Thoughts of Thomas at Nina Clifford’s brothel made a shiver run up my spine, but I pushed the memory away. Today I would think about my mother.
We sat across from each other at the end of a long, rough-hewn table. There were others dining at the establishment, but they were far enough away, I felt some semblance of privacy.
The wind blew off the harbor, offering a cool breeze to temper the heat. It ruffled Marcus’s dark hair, while the sun brightened his deep brown eyes. His commanding presence had brought attention throughout the day, and even now as we sat in the restaurant, several of the young women were watching him, trying to draw his attention. I didn’t want to contemplate whether or not he would have joined Hawk at the brothel if I wasn’t with him, but the thought wouldn’t leave.
A flicker of amusement warmed his gaze. “The answer is nay.”
My cheeks burned at his perception. “How do you know what I was thinking?”
“Your eyes give away everything.” He clasped his hands on the table. “I know the moment I look at you whether you are suspicious of me, angry with me—” He paused, and I knew he was thinking about the night he’d plundered the frigate. “Or pleased with me, though you haven’t looked happy with me in a long time.”
I thought about the many times he had pleased me, and I couldn’t help but smile.
He returned the smile and shook his head. “’Tis that look that goes right to my heart. I would do anything to make you happy.”
A middle-aged woman approached with two tankards of ale and two plates of stew, interrupting our conversation. Wrinkles threaded across her face, and streaks of gray lined her dark hair. Her skin was tanned from the sun, and her clothes were threadbare. The only thing truly remarkable about her were her light blue eyes that almost looked translucent.
She set the food down and said, “’Aven’t seen the likes of you before. Where do you hail from?”
Marcus glanced at her, but didn’t seem eager for her to stay. “Scotland.”
“And what ’bout you?” she asked me.
I wasn’t sure what Marcus would want me to say, so I simply said, “South Carolina.”
She lowered her hands to her hips. “You look familiar.”
My instinct was to cower, to hide my identity—but what if I looked familiar because I looked like my mother?
“Mayhap you knew my mother,” I said tentatively, aware of the young women who were paying attention to our end of the table.
“Aye? And who might that be?”
“Anne Reed.”
The woman slowly dropped her hands to her side. Her surprise turned to concern, and then she bent forward and said quietly, “Did you say Anne Reed?”
