Never Too Late For Love (Heroes Of The Sea Book 9) Page 2

  “Aye, Stephen, kind of ye to ask, lad, I’m doing well and staying out o’ trouble. Hope ye’ve been doing the same!”

  Annis shut her eyes, her fingers tightening around her basket. Unbidden, desire lanced through her and she felt hot all over again.

  Liam Doherty.

  Here.

  She leaned her back against the wall, one hand against her heart to still its sudden trembling, the other already going to the string that held the dirt-smeared apron in place and releasing it. Look at you! Get a damned hold of yourself, you silly old coot.

  Liam Doherty, here.

  Why?

  Logic told her he was here as part of Kieran’s crew, because it took more than two people to sail a sloop of Sandpiper’s size and Liam was Kieran’s lieutenant. Of course Liam Doherty would be here.

  His presence had nothing to do with her, really.

  Nothing to do with her at all.

  She got her breathing under control and thought briefly about detouring up the stairs to tidy up.... But no. She was Annis Cutter, she liked being out in the garden even if this one belonged to her sister-in-law, and if the world didn’t accept her for who she was, she had no use for it. And that included Liam Doherty.

  Annis raised her chin, tied the apron back around her waist, said the hell with the soil clinging to the damp hem of her skirts and swept toward the front foyer, basket still clenched in her hand.

  Only she knew that she paused, but only for one brief and resolute moment, to glance at her face in the looking glass and push a stray curl back into her coif.

  Then, and only then, a general going into battle, she marched into the foyer.

  * * *

  Liam tried not to make it obvious.

  He pushed off the foxhounds whose exuberant bad manners had them scraping at his trousers before running back to Kieran to wrap around his ankles, his knees, standing up on hind legs to swipe at his face with their tongues as the younger man tried to exchange greetings with his in-laws. The two dogs had obviously not forgotten him but then, Liam thought wryly, most beings who met Kieran Merrick, didn’t. Liam gave his hat to the servant and extended a hand to Angus McCormack. The Scot yanked the pipe from his mouth and extended his own hand to pump Liam’s. Liam bowed to Susannah and answered the obligatory questions about his health and welfare, greeted pretty young Pepper, saw the two young servant girls watching from a distance, eyes locked on Kieran, blushing, twittering—and did not see what he’d hoped to see.

  Annis.

  All the way down from Newburyport he’d thought of her. Thought of Callie’s conversation back on the pier, thought of how well the widow had fit in his arms when they’d met in May, thought of how well they’d got on together. His heart fell as the memories assailed him, all the more piercing in her obvious absence. The light scent of her perfume; old roses, with a touch of musk. Her zest for life, her laughter, her bold confidence. How much fun they’d had together in that short time. There was something missing here, without her. Something hollow and empty.

  Something painful.

  I should’ve stayed home.

  Should’ve stayed in Newburyport, doing my duty to my best friend and keeping an eye on his children.

  Though to be fair, Kieran was also Brendan’s son, and he had as much obligation to be here with Kieran as he did to stay back in Newburyport with Connor—

  Roses.

  He caught the scent a moment before he realized where it was coming from, turned his head, and saw her standing there.

  That unforgettable red hair threaded with grey, vibrant and lively, like the woman herself. No statement-making turban this time, no loud and stately clothing to denote her status; the widow wore a simple gown with a suspiciously wet hem and her hair, that beautiful, glorious hair that Liam ached to run his fingers through, was caught up in a loose knot on the back of her head with one corkscrew-like curl falling loose to touch her cheek. Bold blue eyes and a damn-your-eyes smile, and both went knowingly to Liam for a long moment before dismissing him and moving to Rosalie.

  Is she annoyed?

  And then: Annoyed that I never wrote to her, or annoyed that I’m here?

  Mrs. Cutter left him no time to wonder.

  She came sweeping into the room like a frigate under full sail, embraced her niece, embraced Kieran, too, who smiled and said all the right things and looked, as he usually did when confronted by such an onslaught of people—and in this case, dogs as well—rather pained.

  And then the McCormacks were all herding them into the parlor while Susannah called for refreshment, and Liam was left standing with the frigate.

  She turned her bold blue eyes on him and raised her brows in what was an undeniable shot across the bows, and Liam, both charmed and cheered, offered his elbow and, with the beauty on his arm, followed the rest of the family into the parlor.

  Chapter 3

  “And how are ye finding life in the great frozen north, lass?” Angus boomed, taking a seat and knocking the ash from his pipe before bestowing his attention on his daughter. “Staying warm up there? Finding the climate to your liking?”

  “Yes, Papa,” Rosalie said, with a sly look at her new husband that spoke volumes about where Rosalie was finding the source of her warmth. “Very different, of course, from Baltimore, but I daresay I’ve settled in quite well. My brother-in-law, Connor,” she said, referring to Kieran’s brother, “is now the proud father of twin girls.” Again, that sly, speaking look to her husband as she tucked her hand into his. “Twins seem to run in your family, do they not, Kieran?”

  “It would appear so, dearest.”

  Angus sucked on his pipe, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Yer not telling me you’re in the family way, are ye?”

  “Angus!” Susannah scolded, but from her face it was more than obvious that she, too, desired to know the answer as much as did her husband.

  Rosalie laughed and stole another glance at her husband. “I think it’s fair to say that I am, Mother.” She blushed, and her eyes sparkled as she gazed up at the man she adored. “But I didn’t think it was that obvious.”

  “Oh, Rosalie!” Susannah cried out, all but clapping in joy.

  “What’s obvious is that when a couple are as madly in love with each other as you two are,” Angus said, grinning and nodding his head at their clasped hands, “there’ll be bairns.”

  “When’s the big day?” Annis cut in, keenly aware of Liam Doherty in a nearby chair. She tried not to think about how dapper and handsome he looked in his cutaway pea-coat of fine blue wool, tried not to interpret the merriment in his bright blue eyes—he must know I’m quite annoyed with him for never writing, the old rogue, he knows it and he’s still finding it all rather funny! Damn him!—tried not to notice the massive span of his shoulders and the shine to his shoes. Their buckles were silver, buffed to a gleam, and it occurred to Annis that Mr. Doherty might be a man of affluence despite his demeanor, his speech, his ranking as Kieran’s lieutenant, or anything else that was visible about him.

  Not that it mattered, really.

  She was wealthy enough on her own and besides, Liam Doherty had made it more than clear what importance he placed on any possibility of a romantic entanglement, and that importance ranked right down there with the carpet at their feet.

  Maybe even the floor beneath the rug.

  Rosalie’s answer took her mind off her sour thoughts. “Oh, I’m thinking probably March? April?” Her niece took a generous helping of biscuits from a tray that the servant set down on the table before her. She handed one to Kieran, who took a bite, closed his eyes in bliss, and brushed a bit ineffectively at the sugar that sprinkled onto his neckcloth. “But twins? Oh, I don’t know ... I can’t even think that far ahead.”

  The tray was brought over to Annis; she could feel Liam’s eyes upon her, and a sudden and overwhelming wave of heat beneath that blue, blue gaze.

  She raised a hand to wave off the tray and the servant continued on, bringing it to Liam
Doherty on her left.

  “Thank you,” he said, taking a small china plate, a biscuit, and then, pausing, a second one as well.

  The heat built, and Annis was seized by a frantic desire to either shed the clothes that threatened to boil her alive, or escape out to the garden.

  She chose the garden.

  “Excuse me,” she said and hastily got to her feet. She hurried from the room, seeking the blessed relief of the cool air outside, already tearing off her shawl as she all but ran in an attempt to reach that refuge before the full effect of the wave, the fever, this wretched awfulness, caught her.

  There, the door. Her shawl trailing from her fingers, her wrist already slashing at the dampness springing out on her brow, her muslin gown pasting itself to her perspiring back, she shoved it open and was outside, back with the herb garden, the November air cold, oh so deliciously cold, against her hot skin.

  Relief.

  “Mrs. Cutter?”

  She whirled and there was Liam Doherty, still holding the plate of biscuits. It looked very tiny in his massive hand. He had followed her.

  “Mr. Doherty.”

  “I was concerned about ye. Are you well, madam?”

  “Stop with the ‘madam’ nonsense,” she snapped irritably. “I am very well, thank you. Just— oh, never mind.” She shot him a glare and turned away, sucking deeply at the blessedly cool air. “’Tis nothing that concerns you.”

  “Well, Mrs. Cutter—”

  “And stop with the Mrs. Cutter nonsense, too.” She met his surprised gaze. “We shared a kiss, Liam Doherty, lots of kisses, and ye know damned well we’re past such formalities.”

  He blinked, perhaps shocked, probably not, and the part of Annis that was fifty-one years old and irritable and confused and even a little bit afraid of the changes in her body didn’t give two pickled figs if Liam Doherty was shocked or not, and the part of her that was fifty-one with the heart of a young lass that beat just a little bit harder, a little bit faster, at the idea of being with a handsome man out here alone in the garden, remembering those hot kisses from last summer, remembering the feel of those strong arms around her and wanting them around her again, thought that maybe she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life by snapping at him. But oh, what did it matter? If his sensibilities were so easily bruised, if he couldn’t take her as she was, she had no use for him.

  “The sound of Scotland,” he said unexpectedly. “It comes out in your voice when you’re angry.”

  She just made a noise of annoyance and glanced away, determined to pull her accent back in check so that he had nothing else to comment on.

  He stood there, the plate balanced in one hand, blocking the path back to the house.

  “Well?”

  “Well, what?” he asked, not moving.

  “Aren’t you going back inside?”

  “Only if you do.”

  “It’s hot in there. I need air.”

  “Then, with your permission, Annis, I’ll stay out here and take some with you.” He offered the plate. “Care for a biscuit?”

  She grinned, liking that he wasn’t so easily put off by her brief display of pique. He grinned, too, a big, broad smile that made him look a bit mischievous, a bit boyish, a bit innocent and altogether quite handsome. His eyes took on a teasing twinkle and her heart kicked painfully in her chest. Damn, he was handsome.

  “I’d love one.”

  He offered his arm, and she took it. How strong the muscles beneath his jacket. How good he smelled, of something woodsy and fresh, a little bit spicy. And he was tall. Broad. Powerful. Something warmed in her belly and she felt suddenly young and carefree, and altogether quite happy. It was nice it was to be with him, even if nothing would ever come of it. She took a seat on the little garden bench and he lowered himself down beside her.

  “’Tis good to see ye again, Annis,” he said, taking her hand.

  She didn’t resist, enjoying the feel of her fingers dwarfed in his rough, calloused ones, the sensation of his tough mariner’s hands enclosing her own. “’Tis good to see you again, too, Liam Doherty. Even if you’re likely to go sailing right back out of here as easily as you sailed in.” She sighed and slashed him a fond but hopeless smile. “Remind me not to get my hopes up for you, this time.”

  “I’m sorry ye did.”

  “Ah, well. You’re not the only fish in the sea. And I’m not such a young girl that I’d imagine a future together over a few shared kisses, anyhow.”

  “Did ye imagine one?”

  “Of course I did, damn you.”

  He snorted and shook his head. “Never a good idea to care too much about a sailor,” he said.

  “As I well know. I’m in a family of them.”

  He was silent for a moment. “I suppose I could’ve written.”

  “I suppose you could have.”

  “But that would’ve given ye ideas. Made you imagine a future I can’t give ye. And that would be unfair.”

  The inner heat that had sent Annis out here had passed, leaving a chill in its place and despite herself, she shivered. Beside her, Liam shrugged out of his coat and placed it over her shoulders. She sighed and settled into it, his lingering body heat, caught within it, enveloping her like a hug.

  “Thank you,” she said, relishing the cocooning warmth. The coat smelled like him: delicious, woodsy, woolen and spicy. Surreptitiously, she lowered her cheek to it and breathed deeply of his scent. Her gaze fell on the herbs she’d been mining earlier, and she let out her breath in a heavy sigh. “I suppose I could’ve written to you, too. But I did not.”

  “And why didn’t ye?”

  She shrugged. “For the same reason you didn’t write to me. Both of us knew nothing would come of it.”

  “And why is that, d’ye think?”

  “We are both quite comfortable in our lives. I have my family here in Baltimore. You have yours up in Newburyport. We’re both set in our ways, and quite content with our lives as they are.”

  “But there can always be more.”

  “Indeed.”

  “And there’s a difference between contentment and happiness.”

  “Aye,” she agreed. “There is. But to make the leap from one to the next requires a certain boldness of commitment, does it not? And are you willing to take that leap, Liam?”

  “Depends on what I have to jump over.”

  He picked up the plate from where he’d set it at his feet and offered it to her. Annis took one of the sugared biscuits and bit into it, savoring the sugar on her tongue. Liam took the other, sat back, and casually put his arm along the back of the bench, just touching her shoulders and pressing the coat against her. Something in her heart ached. A man didn’t get to be sixty-five years old and be as willing to take that leap, that risk, as he might’ve done at twenty-five, and both of them knew it. In all likelihood, he never would.

  Even so, he seemed to feel the need to explain.

  “Ye remember when we were here this past summer,” he began. “When Kieran and I brought Rosalie home to her family.”

  She took another bite of the biscuit, her gaze still on the herbs a few feet away. “Aye.”

  “We’d just come back from the Caribbean. Just escaped from pirates tryin’ their best to kill us. If it weren’t for Kieran, his cunning and bravery, we’d be dead. All of us. We escaped by the skin of our teeth.” He took another bite of the biscuit and chewed for a long moment. “I intended to pick up where we left off, Annis. God help me, I did. But things happened when we got home to Newburyport, things that reminded me of how fragile and short life actually is, and I remembered a vow I’d made to Kieran’s da. His name was Brendan ... he was my lifelong friend, my best friend, and given that I never married and had wee ones of my own, I was always an uncle of sorts to his children.”

  Annis had known of the escape from the pirates. She knew that the handsome young Kieran Merrick had lost his father not so long ago. She knew that Liam fancied himself a family member of t
he Merricks.

  She had not known that Kieran’s father and Liam Doherty had been close friends.

  “I couldn’t love Maeve, Connor and Kieran more than if they were my own,” Liam said, looking down at what remained of his biscuit. “I was there for them for every year of their lives, and there for them after their da, God rest his soul, died. The last time I saw their da I made him a promise—a promise he extracted from me, though there was never a need for it, I’d have done it anyhow—to watch over his three children for the rest of my days.”

  She said nothing, just looking down at his big, strong hand, resisting the urge to lay her own atop it.

  “You live here, Annis. I live in Newburyport, hundreds of miles away—along with Connor and Kieran—and my promise to them.” The merriment had left his voice and his shoulders seemed to droop. “As much as I enjoyed your company when I was here this past summer, as much as I care about ye—and don’t get me wrong, lass, I do care, more than I ought—my place is in Newburyport, with the only people I can truly call my family.”

  “I understand, Liam.”

  “’Tis nothing to do with you.”

  “Of course not.”

  “I just feel as though I owe ye an explanation. That ... that ye expected more from me.”

  She nodded slowly, once. “And how old are Connor and Kieran, Mr. Doherty?”

  “Is that important?”

  “Well, it appears to me that if these two young men are old enough to command ships, dispose of pirates, take wives and produce bairns, that your obligations to your lifelong friend have been met. That you’re free, should you wish to be, to pursue your own happiness.”