Mary. You must take this secret with you to the grave, do you
understand?”
John nodded. “Don’t worry. I owe you my life, Teach. I’d
sooner sell my own mother than disappoint you.”
Having John as a friend was like having a big, vicious dog
as your loyal pet. Satisfied, Teach shook John’s hand and took
his leave.
By the time Teach reached his father’s house, the building was
mostly dark, with only a few candles illuminating the interior.
After taking the stairs two at a time, he removed his coat
and floppy hat and threw them across his bed. His father’s door down the hallway was open, the interior of his room black. As
promised, he had not returned.
Teach picked up a book from the night table and headed
to Anne’s room. He stopped outside the door and listened to
her footsteps as she paced the floor. Teach was surprised by the pounding of his heart. He hadn’t been this anxious since his father had sent him away to school for the first time. He knocked softly and waited.
Beneath the door he saw Anne’s shadow cross, before she
opened it partway, somewhat hidden from his view. She wore
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a nightdress and a velvet robe, her damp hair hanging over one shoulder. He experienced the usual shock of awareness whenever he saw her. She’d never looked more beautiful.
Her breathing was faster than normal, but she said nothing.
There was a strange glow in her eyes, like compassion or sorrow.
He could not be sure.
“I told you I would return,” he said.
Anne nodded. “Did you . . . Did you discover anything?”
“No, not yet. But I have a friend working on it.” Teach
cleared his throat and held out Dampier’s book, unwilling to
discuss the charges any further. “I wanted to bring you this,” he said, hoping his voice sounded steadier than he felt. “I thought it might help you fall asleep faster.”
Opening the door farther, she reached out and took it from
him, her soft fingertips touching his. He didn’t let go immediately, wishing she would invite him into her room.
She did not.
“Thank you. I’ve been wondering what happens next.” She
made no move to close the door. A pulse beat at her collarbone, and he longed to run his finger along her smooth skin.
Teach took a step forward, the book still connecting them.
“I could tell you what happens next,” he said, his voice low.
Anne swallowed. Her blue eyes shone in the candlelight, and
Teach could not have turned away if he’d tried.
“Does he die?”
“He does not. At least not for many years.”
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“Is there any more sadness?” she asked.
He reached out and brushed her cheek with his thumb.
“No,” he whispered.
“Does he return to the sea?”
They both knew they were no longer discussing the book.
“That remains to be seen. There might be something that could
tempt him to stay.”
A shadow passed over Anne’s features, and she withdrew
her hand. Teach was surprised by the strength of his disappointment.
“I’ve heard your father say that temptation is of the devil,”
she said.
“Contrary to what my father believes, I do not think all
enticements are wicked.”
Anne gave him a sad smile, making her look older than
her sixteen years. “A wise man is not the one who knows the
difference between good and evil, but the one who chooses the
least evil.”
Before Teach could form a retort, she closed the door softly.
He braced himself against the frame until the light from her
candle was snuffed out.
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C H A P T E R 2 2
Anne
Wandering through the house the next morning, Anne found
Teach in his father’s library. He sat at the desk, tracing the wood grain with his thumbnail, but stood as she entered.
There was no sign of Drummond.
“What do you plan to do today?” Teach asked, leaning
against the corner of the desk.
“I thought I might go back to the city.” It had taken her a
while to fall asleep, even after Teach had brought her the book.
She’d been too distraught over the charges against him. If Drummond didn’t find some way to have them dropped . . . Anne didn’t even want to think about what might happen. No, she
had to continue to believe in Drummond’s abilities, for herself as well as for Teach.
For the first time in her life, she liked to think she had
a friend. She admired Teach’s intelligence and his drive. She
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envied his confidence and his ability to listen to others.
Of course, she also couldn’t deny her attraction to him. Last
night, when he’d given her the book, she’d been very aware of
him as a man. And more than once she’d caught a certain gleam
in his eyes, one that betrayed a deeper emotion than simple
friendship.
In order to put some distance between them, she had
decided to return to the city for the day. Every time she saw a glistening candlestick or spoon, it weighed on her. It was one