“Oh, I couldn’t bear it,” I say, grinning mischievously. I am the apple of my father’s eye. His darling girl. And I know it. He wouldn’t have me seen in anything but the smartest clothes.
“I’m off to the docks,” I tell him. I want to get a closer look at the amazing ships, but memory tells me that Daddy doesn’t exactly like me wandering the docks.
“Mother said there was shipment of spices coming in today, and some perfumed oils,” I improvise, pulling from a thread of memory.
“Don’t be long,” my father says sternly. “You’ve been spending a lot of time down at the docks. People will begin to talk.” I answer with an indulgent smile. He worries too much.
My fiancé won’t care a fig if I’m seen at the docks. My dowry will see to that.
Whoa. I’m engaged. His name is Boyce Hadley, and he’s the son of a shipping tycoon here in New Devonshire. They’re a respectable family but have recently found themselves a bit cash-strapped. My dowry will get them back on even footing again and elevate me into society, far above my current position as lighthouse keeper’s daughter.
I search my brain, pulling the rest of the details together.
My mother is the sole heiress to her father’s fortune due to the untimely passing of her elder brother five years before her father died. She married for love, never caring much about society. She and my father run the lighthouse because they enjoy it. My brother will be taking over someday.
And I will be marrying Boyce, in eight weeks’ time, because it’s what I’m supposed to do.
Wait … where in the world is New Devonshire? The UK? I pull from my memories here, and it starts flowing in. America never challenged the British. There was no Revolutionary War. We are part of the kingdom of Britain, and if my fuzzy memory is correct, New Devonshire is somewhere on the coast of what I know as South Carolina.
I’m nearly overwhelmed by all the sights and sounds and smells. High overhead, I can see a dirigible passing over, and I’m so excited to see it and the ships, I have to remind myself to slow down so I don’t trip in these heels.
I make my way down the sandy pathway to the edge of the dock, stepping carefully and picking up my skirts in my fist so they won’t catch any rough edges or nails on the boards. I make it about halfway down the dock when I see a familiar ship. The gangplank is extended, so I step carefully on and walk up it, reaching out for the bowline to steady myself as I step onto the deck. My skirt catches on the back of my heel, so I bend over, shaking it to pull it free. Just as I start to straighten up, I’m spun around and fall right into Finn’s arms.
And he laughs as his lips come down upon mine.
15
The Other Finn
Finn’s mouth is warm and his hands slide around my waist, pulling me in closer. He’s moving his lips expertly on mine, giving me a series of soft, sucking kisses that deepen into something longer as his arms tighten around me.
“You’re late,” he murmurs against my lips, between kisses.
“Ummm…” I don’t know what to say, but I’m also not sure I want to stop kissing him.
“Did your father suspect?” he asks. I pull back, looking at him curiously. He’d said father differently.
“Jessa? Is something wrong, love?”
I open my mouth and close it again, shaking my head. “You sound kind of … Irish.”
“Well, how d’you expect me to sound?” he asks, confused.
“I—I don’t know. I guess the Irish is fine.” Actually, it was sexy and it made my stomach flutter, is what I really want to say to him, but maybe it’s just the aftermath of those kisses.
I glance around. “Love the ship.”
“Well, I would hope so. It’ll be your home soon enough.”
“But I’m en—” I break off as the rest of the memories fill my head. I’m not marrying Boyce. I’m running away. In three weeks, I’ll be running away with Finn. He pulled into port four months ago and told me I was a Traveler. We’d become romantically involved shortly after. And we are leaving town, sailing away together.
Suddenly, entirely too many memories are filling my head, and I step back, putting a little room between us.
His eyes show his concern, and he steps forward.
“Jessa? Are you all right?”
I look up at him with entirely new eyes now that the memories are flooding in.
“Finn, I’m not—”
“Jessamyn!” a voice is calling loudly from the dock.
I look at Finn with wide eyes. Jessamyn? What sort of a name is that?
“Your father!” he says in an urgent whisper. “Here!” He pushes me behind him, motioning for me to head down the stairs to the crew quarters below. They’re empty this time of day, and I press my back up against the wall in the corridor, straining to hear what Finn is saying to my father.
“Beg pardon?” Finn’s voice carries to me. “Jessamyn? Blond hair, blue dress?”
“That’s her,” my father confirms.
“I’ve seen her around here before, never knew her name.” Finn reassures him. “She passed by a few minutes ago, but I didn’t see where she went after she turned off the dock. I was busy seeing to my cargo, mate.”