here a few days. I just sent the note to you yesterday.”
“A few days?” That too was confusing. “Where had she been all this time? Since her mother died?”
Marina entered the house. “In the village.”
“With who?” He followed her through the door. The way she headed directly toward the hearth caused a final nerve to flare. He was a man of action—found the problem and took care of it. When he asked a question, people answered. Tired of attempting to be polite, he slapped a hand on the table. “Damn it! Why are you making me fight for every morsel of information? Why can’t you just tell me what I want to know?”
She spun around and the fire that shot from her eyes startled him slightly. When her burning gaze landed on his hand, he practically felt the heat and lifted his hand off the table.
“A smart man does not meddle in things that don’t concern him,” she said icily.
“A smart—” Letting out a growl, he planted his hand back on the table. “This does concern me. Anything that concerns my daughter concerns me.”
“Very well.” She picked a bowl and spoon off the table. “Once I’ve seen to Gracie, I’ll join you and my uncle and answer any questions you have on that matter.”
Steam hissed inside his head. “On that matter?” Richard blocked her way around the table. “I’m tired of this cat-and-mouse game. I have questions on several matters I want answered now.” Once again slapping the table, he added, “Right now!”
He’d expected to startle some sense into her, but the only things that jumped about Marina were her eyes, moments before they turned as bitter as a nor’easter.
“And I want you to leave,” she said as frosty as her blue eyes. “Which you will do.”
Richard kept his gaze locked on hers, letting her know he wasn’t moving until he was ready.
Her eyes never left his as she lifted her chin. “However, right now, I must see to Gracie.”
She could easily have turned and made her way around the other side of the table, but she didn’t. Instead, she walked directly toward him. A spark of respect flared for this uncommon golden-haired woman. He’d made note of how she carried herself, earlier. Head up and purposeful, unlike most women, who rarely met a man eye to eye.
“If you were any kind of a father,” she said without a footstep faltering. “A real father. That is where your concern would lie—in her health and that of her recovery.”
Richard had been chastised by men far more powerful than she’d ever be. On a bad day, Earl could send sharks swimming in the opposite direction with little more than a shout and a fist waving in the air. This woman, however, possessed a different kind of power, one he couldn’t explain. “I am her father,” he answered out of defiance. “And I am concerned about her health and well-being. That is why I’m here.”
Her glare remained ice-cold. “Then you’d be interested in knowing I’ve been giving her broth every two hours, not enough to upset her stomach but enough to get it working again.”
It flustered him that a rebuttal wouldn’t form in his mind, but what could he say to that? He’d stood his ground with opponents around the world, yet, right now, he stepped aside so she could leave the room.
Which she did.
His gaze followed her. Marina Lindqvist was not what she appeared to be. A matter of fact, if he’d ever believed in witches, he might wonder about her. Not in the evil, brewing-up-potions kind, but in the kind who could cast spells upon men without them knowing it. There was no other explanation. With little more than those blue eyes, she’d knocked the wind right out of his sails.
Flustered with himself, he entered the hall. William was still in the front room, and the snore that shook the old man’s body confirmed what Richard already knew. William wasn’t just old; he was tired, worn-out from his life at sea. For a brief moment, Richard was reminded of Earl and the fight the man had fought against aging, against giving up the life he’d known. Earl had died at sea, doing what he loved. William wouldn’t, and for that, Richard experienced a pang of sympathy.
Switching his thoughts, he started up the steps. When the time came, he wanted to be like Earl, sailing into the sunset as his days ended. Until then, he had things to do. A legacy to maintain so his daughter would never again know the pains or consequences of hunger.
The door to the bedroom was open. He’d been only a few steps behind Marina, yet she was already sitting on the edge of the bed, spooning soup into Gracie’s mouth. His daughter was sitting in the middle of the bed and her eyes widened when she saw him in the doorway. A slight and wobbly smile turned up the corners of her lips.
Richard’s heart fluttered inside his chest. The sensation was as remarkable as it was foreign. He hadn’t expected this immediate connection to his daughter, for it hadn’t been there the first time he’d seen her, when she’d been a tiny infant. Then again, at that time, he’d already been told he’d never see her again, that he wasn’t welcome in Salem Village, nor would he ever be. That had been shortly after Earl’s death, and on that very day, Richard had fully accepted the advice his mentor had shared before dying. “Let them go,” Earl had said. “Forget you ever had a wife or child. The sea is all you’ll ever need.”
“Your arrival seems to have worked wonders,” Marina said. “Grace was awake and ready to eat.”
Snapped out of his musings, Richard crossed the room. “That’s good news. To see her well is my greatest wish.” He chose not to delve too deeply into the things happening inside him. Grace was his daughter, and every father wanted his children to be healthy and well. However, he was aware now that Earl’s advice was no longer relevant. He’d accepted the loss of his wife long before her death, but he had a second chance with his daughter and didn’t need anyone’s advice on what to do.
“Goodness,” Marina said. “You’ve eaten the entire bowl.” She brushed a clump of black hair off Grace’s cheek. “Would you like more?”
“Yes, please.”
“Very well. I shall get you some.” Marina stood and bestowed a sun-kissed smile upon the child. “I’ll be back in little more than a moment.”
Richard didn’t know much about ill children but knew shipmates got well faster once they were up and about, and despite refusing to leave, every instinct he had was still telling him to get his daughter and depart this place as soon as possible. “Perhaps Gracie would like to go downstairs to eat.”
Gracie’s eyes lit up. For a moment, he saw himself in her and knew that must be how his eyes glowed when they settled upon the great span of water surrounding his ship. Smiling brightly, she pushed aside the covers and scooted toward the edge of the bed.
“The stairs may be a bit much for her yet,” Marina said gently.
“Not if I carry her,” Richard supplied. Without waiting for Marina’s answer, he asked his daughter, “Would that be all right with you, Grace? If I carried you?”
She nodded enthusiastically.
Marina, on the other hand, seemed torn. “I don’t want her to lose the ground she’s gained.”
“She
