She pressed further. “I am convinced there is something troubling your spirit. I know the look—that melancholy in your eyes, the tightening of your jaw. I’ve been there, Brogan. I understand what it is to be burdened by secrets. And your burden has increased since I’ve come aboard the Yankee Heart, hasn’t it? Has it something to do with me? With Drew? Won’t you talk to me, Brogan? What troubles you?”
“The wind shall soon be blowing a gale,” he said. “I can feel its breath.” He alerted her to the ship’s increase in motion, the shift in pressure on the soles of their feet as the Yankee Heart began to rise and plunge with greater force over the waves.
With a jerk of his chin he directed her attention to the skies. “Notice that vaporish halo surrounding the moon? Foul weather is ahead. Already I can see the Yankee Heart beginning to labor under her heavy press of sail. I’ll have to escort you below, Lorena. I need to alert Mr. Smith.”
But Mr. Smith was already aware of the increase in weather. He called in the next watch to stand at the helm and met them as they descended the companionway ladder to the main deck, awaiting orders.
“Have her topgallants and courses sheeted down,” Brogan commanded.
Mr. Smith removed himself to relay the order. His booming voice projected over the creaks and groans of the ship’s timber and the wind as it whistled through the shrouds. Sailors leapt to their tasks, some working the ropes, others beginning the lofty climb up the ratlines.
Taking firm grasp of her hand, Brogan pulled her toward the cabins while Lorena padded behind as quickly as her feet could find purchase on the slick deck. The gauzy cotton of her gown had grown damp from the spray, and she shuddered as they entered the quiet emptiness of the great cabin.
Brogan was not going to respond to her plea. Or maybe he could not.
He rubbed his palms up and down her bare arms, trying to warm her. “You’ll be all right,” he assured. “It’s just a chill.”
She raised her face to his and trembled for another reason altogether. Candlelight flickered over the rugged planes of his handsome face. The air stirred with more than just the odor of whale oil from the lamps outside the door.
From without, chains rattled ever so faintly. Yards creaked. The Yankee Heart rocked slowly, port to lee, the sea lapping at her sides. Brogan took her chin in hand to tilt her face and gaze more deeply into her eyes.
Lorena’s lashes fluttered closed like butterfly wings as he angled his face down over hers. At that first exquisite press of his mouth, she quivered. His lips skimmed hers with a feathery lightness, and she felt herself drawn with an ebb and flow as timeless as the tide, swept away as easily as if she were a grain of sand.
He released her. His eyes opened slowly, a deep blue.
Lorena reached up and pressed her palms to his lean cheeks, silently thanking Providence for bringing him to her so that she could experience this fullness of heart.
Brogan’s stare deepened, then he turned, and with eyes closed pressed a kiss into her palm.
When he looked again, Brogan found Lorena’s velvety brown eyes had taken on a vulnerable roundness. They reflected something he’d never before seen in a woman’s eyes. Never in Abigail’s eyes, though he’d often searched for it. Here it was, at last. Love.
Brogan’s chest constricted with panic. This graceful young dove terrified him. What if he were unworthy of her?
He must tell her the truth. He hated to keep putting it off, but then neither was he prepared to face the consequences of what his news might bring. Naturally a woman in Lorena’s position would feel threatened by the discovery of his blood relationship to Drew. She might withdraw her affection if she thought he intended to take the boy from her. But Brogan no longer had any desire for that. He wanted only his rights as a father. He wanted to be able to watch his son grow, to offer the lad his support and guidance and participate in his upbringing.
He wanted to pursue Lorena without a child’s future weighing in the balance. His feelings for her stirred a thousand doubts and fears within him, yet they grew more affectionate with each passing day. He hardly cared to jeopardize those fragile emotions before his heart had had a chance to come to terms with them.
He pulled away with a hollow laugh. “Don’t look at me so, Lorena. What is there to trouble me? Look around you. I have everything a man could ask.”
“Everything?” she asked. “Mr. Smith says you have not the thing you desire most. Tell me what it is you desire most, Brogan.”
His gut reaction was to kiss her again. The scent of her, soft and ethereal, surrounded him like a cloud. He pressed his mouth to her petal-soft lips, more firmly this time, and as he tasted the promise of her sweetness, he felt something click into place deep within his soul.
When his lips parted from hers, it was with regret. Straightening, Brogan gazed down at her in complete surrender. “Very well. You’ve made your case,” he said. “It is true. There is something I have not revealed to you, but until I can find the words, will you be patient with me, Lorena? We cannot speak tonight. This gale increases, and I must attend to the safety of the ship.”
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