Dawn arrived in timid rays of soft pewter light. It rose off the horizon like an aura, while the rolling echo of the surf washed over the sandy shoreline of the Bluefish River with a sound as rhythmic as a man’s breathing. Each wave returned to the briny blue with a deep, satisfied sigh.
In quiet, solitary moments such as these, the still, small voice of the Lord spoke to her heart. Resting her head on her bent knees, Lorena Huntley closed her eyes. She needed to hear.
Why this foreboding, this uneasiness of late? She understood it to be God’s way of alerting her spirit, but as to what she seemed unable to discern. Had it to do with Drew? With Papa? Perhaps even George?
No, this warning was more immediate to family than the unfortunate business of George. She’d come out to her favorite spot to pray, but hours of baking in the summer kitchen had left her sleepy, and she fell into a doze only to be awakened by an unnatural stillness in the air.
She flashed open her eyes, a gasp of surprise escaping her even before she lifted her head to glance up.
Above her stood a goliath of a man.
Shoulders as broad and square as a doorframe, he towered above her, his boots planted in a wide stance that looked for all the world like even the strongest northeaster couldn’t shake his timbers.
He grinned, and were he not already intimidating in stature and bearing, Lorena might have been stricken speechless at his handsomeness alone.
He wore no hat, no coat; no neckerchief adorned the collar of his white linen shirt. Simply a pair of suspenders looped over the shirt’s full, dropped shoulders, its sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with sinew and as tight as yarn hemp. His bisque trousers were tucked into a pair of shiny black knee boots, and at his side hung fists the size of a plow horse’s hoof.
He had a hawkish nose with chiseled features, a squared jaw, and longish sandy-blond hair, parted slightly to one side. A lush stray lock spilled onto his forehead. Long side whiskers grew down in front of his ears. His was not the milky complexion of gentlefolk, but the bronzed, healthy glow of a man who obviously spent his days out-of-doors. His masculinity unnerved her, and gazing up at him, Lorena grew irritated for the ease with which she had allowed this giant to take her unawares.
She considered making a dash for home, but surmised him more than capable of outrunning her. She could scream, but no one would hear. Her father’s shipwrights and yard workers would shortly be arriving for work, but until then, there was nothing she could do but stand her ground and refuse to show fear.
She met his gaze boldly, and as they regarded each other, he tipped his head in greeting. “Good morning to you, miss.”
Disarmed, Lorena scrambled to her feet on top of the rock and, shaking out her skirts, straightened to her full height of five and six, until they stood face-to-face. She eyed him warily and gave a nod.
“My apologies for awakening you, but I wondered why you were so still.”
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You’ve been watching me?”
He took thorough inspection of her, from kerchief to leather shoelaces. “Aye, and a more fetching sight I’ve yet to see in all Duxborotown. What are you doing out here? All alone.”
What was she doing here? Whatever was he doing here? And how dare he trespass on her father’s property? Who was he anyway? she wanted to ask. But this man had the most arresting, melancholy eyes of china blue. They pinned her with a stare that sealed her lips as tightly as a caulker’s mallet drove oakum in the seam between two planks.
“N . . . nothing.” And then Lorena thought better of her answer and added, “Nothing of your concern, anyway.”
“Oh?” His brows lifted in mock surprise. “Nothing to do, eh? And what, pray, would your employer think, not only of your idle hands but to find you asleep on the job?”
She could tell by the grin on his handsome face that he was toying with her, purposely trying to make her feel vulnerable. She would have none of it, however.
“I find you unmannerly, sir,” she spat.
“Unmannerly?” He chuckled at that. “As though I had committed an offense in wishing you good morning.”
Lorena waved an arm to indicate the surrounding area with its strewn timbers and storage sheds. “This land is the property of Nathaniel Huntley. These are his yards. What business have you to stroll through uninvited?”
“Bold words for a kitchen maid. But I see. I’ve disturbed you, haven’t I?”
“Disturbing me is the least of your offenses.” She jumped from her rock, bringing them into closer proximity, which was not her intent. “Now please step aside to let me pass.”