“Not at all,” he said. “I realize the inconvenience of meeting me privately, so I thank you for coming. The truth is, I have no excuse for my behavior in the shipyard except to blame my high spirits and an eagerness to make your acquaintance. As a lady, you were undeserving of my forwardness. For that, I beg your pardon. Also for any ill manners I may have shown the evening I dined in your home. Your identity took me by surprise, to say the least.”
He regarded her humbly. In his eyes shone a sweetness of expression.
“I accept your apology, Captain.” Lorena felt warmth in her cheeks. “As for myself, I am ashamed of the way I ran off. I was frightened. I thought—”
“You made the wise decision. I did not offer my name, and you had no idea what sort of man you were dealing with. I take full responsibility and pray Drew does not bear me any ill will. Perhaps you could help me in that respect. He is such a fine lad. It would please me greatly if we three could become friends.”
Lorena contemplated him a moment, surprised by his request. “How is it, Captain, that a famous privateersman, a man both feared and respected, displays such amazing tenderness towards a child? Most men do not concern themselves with little ones, finding them more nuisance than not. But not you, sir. Why, your face fairly glows whenever Drew is near. One minute I find you an arrogant fellow and the next quite surprisingly . . . sentimental.”
She watched him absorb this information, his expression grave, then thought better of herself and said, “Forgive me. I speak too personal.”
“Nay, I respect your honesty. May you always feel this free to share your opinion. Which makes me wonder myself how a refined young lady finds the courage to be outspoken. It seems we are like most people whose characters are more complicated than what first appears on the surface. It takes time to get to know the heart of the person within. And is that not what we are doing here? Getting to know one another? In which case, it would please me greatly if you’d call me Brogan.”
This pleased Lorena also. “Very well . . . Brogan.”
He brightened. “Then we can be . . . friends?”
“Indeed. The three of us.” There was gaiety in her voice and a lightness in her spirit. “You shall enjoy getting to know Drew. He’s a delightful child. A good boy . . . most of the time.”
The captain chuckled. “I’m sure I shall, and I look forward to a closer acquaintance with you, as well. Speaking of which, something has been puzzling me since our first meeting.” At her quizzical look, he asked, “For what reason does a beautiful young lady sit dozing in a shipyard before the dawn?”
Lorena had not been dozing so much as waiting upon the Lord. But how to explain her unease, as though she was being warned, when she did not understand the danger herself?
Instead, she told Brogan the tale of her cranberry tarts. How, as soon as she had finished baking them, she’d headed for the marsh and its cool breezes. She told him of the tarts’ disappearance, of how Drew, her father, and Temperance had gobbled them up for breakfast before the pastries had even had a chance to cool. And how, when only four remained, it had been necessary to make a new dessert.
“All that for me? Now I truly do feel the scoundrel.”
Reaching up, he surprised Lorena by skimming his knuckles down her cheek in a caress soft as a whisper, gentle and affectionate, with a look that thanked her for her troubles. He gazed into her eyes, holding her spellbound and causing their surroundings to fade, until there was nothing but the earnestness of his handsome expression and a sudden flutter of her heart.
His stare lingered. Perhaps propriety demanded she turn away, yet she could not. She stood transfixed, and it wasn’t until Brogan dropped his hand and stepped back, as though remembering himself, that Lorena was able to recover her voice.
She felt a necessity to lighten the mood with a smile. “I daresay, if it weren’t for my family’s gluttony, you may have had the opportunity to sample my cranberry tarts.”
“In fairness to your family, Miss Huntley, if you recall, I devoured your chocolate custards with equal piggishness.”
She laughed at his frankness. “I do. And, Brogan, please do call me Lorena.”
“Lorena,” he whispered flatteringly, while behind him another male voice called to her in a slightly whiny yet sharper pitched tone.
“Lorena!”
The interruption took them both unawares, and Brogan spun toward the intruder, placing himself before her as if to shield her with his body, though there was hardly need. Lorena knew George’s voice and stepped out from behind the captain.
“What is it, George? What’s the matter?”
She had her answer the instant she saw his face. His jealousy was evident. He made no reply, but eyed Brogan disapprovingly, absorbed in his own misplaced possessiveness.
Brogan stared stonily back. At length, he gave the shipwright a slight nod of greeting. “Mr. Louder.”
“Captain,” George returned. “I’ve come to escort Miss Huntley back to the house. Mrs. Culliford has a meal prepared and the family is gathering.”