“I can’t.” How could she look him in the eye? He would see her guilt, her shame, the cowardice buried deep inside.
He lifted her chin and caught her gaze. “There is nothing to forgive.”
“Yes, there is.” A terrible trembling began in her limbs. How weak, how frail, how flawed she was.
“No.” He stroked her jaw, not in anger but with tenderness. “We all make mistakes. All of us. Myself included. I could regale you for hours, but the Lord washed those mistakes away when He died on the cross. I only had to accept that act of love. That’s what love is. It thinks first of the other person. It forgets itself. It does right even when it hurts.”
She had heard all this many times before.
“If He can forgive my mistakes,” he continued, “I can certainly forgive anything you have done.”
She sucked in her breath. “Anything? Even four years of silence?”
He smiled. “It was a long time but hardly silent. Your brother told me a great deal.”
“My brother? How did Charlie know . . . oh, from my letters to our mother.”
“He loves you. He needs you.”
She shook her head. “Then why does he push me away one moment and act like a friend the next?”
“He’s a boy. A boy trying to become a man. Wanting to be strong and afraid to ask for your love in case it makes you think he’s weak.”
Elizabeth had never considered that. “I came home to take care of him.”
“He doesn’t need a nursemaid.” Rourke settled beside her on the hatch cover. “He needs a sister.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. In her desperation to claim Rourke, she had cast aside her brother. “You must think me very selfish.”
“No.” He clasped her hand. “Very passionate. Very determined. Very certain of what you want. But you must realize that a future cannot be founded on broken hearts and deception. I won’t take you anywhere without your father’s blessing.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry.”
Elizabeth had thought her heart broken before, but this ached far worse. A sob escaped. “Father will never agree.”
“Never is a long time.”
She would not cry. She would not. She bit her lip to stop the powerful swell of emotion. “Will you return?”
He brushed a finger across her cheek, sending shivers all the way to her toes. “God willing, dear Elizabeth.”
She let her lids drift shut, hoping either that he would kiss her or that she would awake and find this a dream.
Instead he pulled her to her feet. “Let’s get you home.”
Rourke hated hurting her. When she closed her eyes and those perfect lips parted, it took all his will not to kiss her. Her disappointment nearly changed his mind. She loved him. She was willing to give up everything, even her family, to be with him. He had dreamed of hearing such a declaration, but now it was impossible.
She didn’t know about the plan. Based on what she’d said, she didn’t know John and Anabelle were married, least of all that he planned to bring her to freedom in the Bahamas. Taking Elizabeth instead of Anabelle to Briland wasn’t just selfish, it broke a solemn promise and locked a soul in bondage.
Rourke dug the oars into the still water, now calm at slack tide, and reached the mouth of the cut in just four strokes. The boat glided silently onto the ocean. To the north and east lay his homeland. A favorable wind would bring them into the Gulf Stream and out of Florida waters in a few short hours. An unfavorable wind could keep them bottled up in the Keys. That was a problem.
He lifted the oars.
Elizabeth, sitting in the bow, eyed him. “What is it?”
He motioned for her to be quiet, not from necessity but because he needed time to think. What would he do if the Windsprite was becalmed? He hadn’t provided that option to Anabelle. In fact, he hadn’t considered the wind at all. What kind of captain forgot to take into account the wind?
He pulled once on the oars.
Even if he did manage to weigh anchor and slip away from the island undetected, if the wind failed, the harbor’s new steam tug could easily catch him. Rourke had to get word to Anabelle. Elizabeth was the obvious choice, but she knew nothing of the planned escape. He was not going to tell her now. First, she might not approve of losing her maid. Second, it made her an accomplice. No, he would have to get word to Tom, who would then tell Anabelle.
“Where are you going?” she whispered loudly.
Rourke shook himself from his thoughts and discovered the boat had drifted east when he needed to row west. He plunged the oars into the water and gave three strong strokes.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t get word to Tom. He couldn’t risk being seen.
“Something is wrong,” Elizabeth said again.
“No, I’m fine.”
He rowed a few more strokes. Elizabeth could bring a message to Tom, who would then find Anabelle, but that was ridiculous. She could go straight to Anabelle. He just had to make the message vague enough that Elizabeth wouldn’t figure out its true meaning.