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December 24, 1818
Oh, Helen, you vain, silly creature.
She stared into her cheval mirror that featured a small crack at the top. It used to belong to her mother, but over the years, Helen had made use of it. With a sigh, she drew a hand along the front of the ivory cotton dress stamped with green holly leaves around the bottom hem and the bodice. She’d embroidered red berries in the middle of each cluster of leaves as well as sewed a green satin ribbon to the waist to give the garment more of a holiday feel.
And I haven’t worn it for years, so why now?
Of course she knew why, and her cheeks heated with both shame and anticipation. Stupidly, she wished to appear at her best when next she saw Captain Frampton, regardless that what he said—or didn’t say—last night had upset her.
With a snort of annoyance, she threw a woolen shawl over the looking glass so she couldn’t see the stupid desperation in her own eyes. In the next breath, her feet dragged as she crossed the floor and put a hand on the doorknob. There was no denying Captain Frampton was the most interesting man she’d come across in recent years, but he was also a captain with a hankering to return to the sea.
Stay away from him, girl. There is no future there, and at least you have a life here that’s not full of heartbreak.
With the stern warning ringing in her head, Helen left her bedchamber with her typical sunny attitude once more in place. Christmas would arrive tomorrow, and she’d looked forward to it all year. Nothing would ruin that for her.
The second she stepped into the tavern room, the first person she laid eyes on was the captain. Of course. It was almost as if her gaze was compelled to seek him out wherever he was. Like last evening, he occupied the same table, alternately reading and peering into the flames, while life went on around him—joking, talking, laughing. He was much like a stubborn rock in a stream, not moving but making the water flow around him.
Damn his eyes.
Helen heaved a sigh. Well, there was nothing for it. She’d have to endure him for the length of his stay. It didn’t appear he was anxious to depart though the storm had abated from last night. In fact, the morning skies beyond the windows gave off enough glare for her to hope the sun would make an appearance, but she refused to assume the captain might linger. Staying another night didn’t mean he would give up the sea for the rest of his life.
With her mind firm regarding him, Helen went into the small storage room behind the counter. Her friend was elbows deep in assisting guests hoping to take their leave from the inn, so Helen donned her apron, made sure the escaped tendrils of hair had been re-pinned, and then she returned to the tavern room with the intent to wait on various customers seeking their breakfast.
“Miss Everly!” The call in his particular tenor sent flutters into her belly. Immediately, she jerked her head, and no amount of willpower in the world could prevent her from meeting the captain’s gaze. He flashed a grin, the same one he’d given her last night, the one that had the power to turn her knees to jelly. Then he gestured to her.
Drat, drat, drat.
There was no ignoring him. Tamping down on further reaction, Helen moved across the room and once at his table, she paused, being certain to hover just out of arm’s reach. “Good morning, Captain Frampton.” She kept her tone businesslike. “I trust you passed a pleasant night.”
“I did, in fact. There is something quite soothing about my room,” he responded without a drop in his inherent charm. “I watched the clouds scud across the skies, and when they cleared, the stars lulled me to sleep. That room is cozy enough and reminds me of my ship’s cabin.” Then he lowered his voice as his eyes sparkled. “It’s like coming home.”
Confusion took hold. What did that mean? “I... I’m glad to hear it.” I think. Her nerves suddenly felt strung too tight. She wiped her moist palms on her apron. “How long have you been down here?” Usually, she was one of the first people up at the inn, at least an hour before most of the guests.
He shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “A couple of hours. Since there was a decent chill upstairs, I came down just as the fire was being lit.” With a long forefinger, he tapped the book he held—a different one than yesterday. Perhaps he was a fast reader. “So, I settled and lost myself in this Gothic tale, which is most exceptional.”
“Ah, yes, I did so love that book, and I have a couple more tucked away in my room.” She pressed her lips together. Already, she’d broken her vow to distance herself from him. “If you should wish to borrow one, let me know.”
“I will.” Amusement danced in those mysterious gray-green eyes. “How did you pass the night?”
Not for a pile of gold would she admit to lying sleepless for a few hours because thoughts of him chased about her mind. “Reasonably well.” How did he manage to slip past her guard and set her both at ease and see her at sixes and sevens? Straightening her spine, she asked, “Do you wish for breakfast? Perhaps some tea?” She’d see to his needs and then spend the remainder of the morning away from him before she became too invested.
“No to the tea. I’ve become accustomed to enjoying coffee in the morning. It’s more invigorating.” Once more the captivating grin was in place and drat if she couldn’t stop staring at his mouth. Those sensuous lips would continue to haunt her dreams unless she managed to purge him from her mind.
Good heavens, Helen. You’re hopeless.
Of that she had no doubt. The whole of her adult life, she’d lived in Port Isaac, and though she’d become efficient at deflecting the advances of the more unsavory and unsuitable men looking for a warm bed and a place to dip their wick, as it were, something about the captain wouldn’t leave her alone. She shook her head in the hopes of removing herself from his spellcasting.
“And to the breakfast? Do you wish to partake?”
“Yes, please. A full Cornish would be lovely.” He was no less put together in stylish and well-tailored clothing as he was the night before, but with the weak sunlight trying to shine through the windows, she couldn’t fail to appreciate the whole of his form and figure.
“I’ll put in your order.”
“Thank you, Miss Everly. It’s much appreciated.”
When she met his gaze, honesty shone there, and the corners of his eyes crinkled with a genuine grin. “It’s no bother.” Quickly, she put distance between them, for if she lingered, she’d make a fool of herself, and he was not one with whom she needed to form an attachment. He was from the sea, and to it he would return, regardless of what—or who—might wait on land for him.
The coffee service was ready long before the ordered food, but because her mind was still racked with confusion regarding the captain, she encouraged one of the other tavern girls to bring it to his table. While she waited, Helen covertly observed him as he returned to his book. Truly, he was the first well-read man she’d seen at the inn in a long while, and that intelligence drew her to him like a moth to a flame. Usually, the men that utilized the tavern were rough and tumble fishermen. At times, the inn would host more well-to-do travelers, but most were attached or simply not interested in lingering in a port town in Cornwall.
Not that she’d been desperate enough to initiate any sort of conversation with them.
Really, Helen, such thoughts are ridiculous and unbecoming. Letting yourself dangle after a man in the hopes he might notice you in a romantic way. You’re better than that, and you certainly don’t need the complication.
It mattered not what her common sense told her, for she was curious about Captain Frampton, and that led her silly, hopeful heart to dream. After all, it was the season of miracles...
A quarter of an hour later, Helen brought out his breakfast on a large tray. A traditional Cornish breakfast consisted of a hog’s pudding and Cornish potato cakes alongside pilchards and herring, tomato, mushrooms, eggs, and toast. The cook at the Brown Hart Inn also included gurty pudding, which was similar to haggis. Many of the guests at the inn enjoyed it and it was quite popular.
The captain’s eyes lit as she arranged the many plates and bowls on the table. “This looks marvelous and smells even better. Please give my thanks to your cook.”
“Of course I will.” Once the tray had been emptied, she tucked it beneath her arm. “If there’s nothing else, please enjoy.” She kept a hint of frost in her voice, for she had to maintain boundaries for her own sanity.
A soft sigh escaped him. He lifted a hand, perhaps to stay her flight, but then let it drop to the tabletop. “Have I offended you in some way, Miss Everly?” Genuine confusion in his eyes, as well as a bit of sadness. “For if I have, I truly apologize for the slight.”
Her resolve disappeared and she broke, for he had the air of a boy whose favorite dog has just been taken away. “No, of course not. I apologize for my behavior.”
“Ah, good.” He glanced at the largesse on the table. “Would you share breakfast with me? Though I’m quite famished, I doubt I can eat all of this.”
“I shouldn’t.” Her dratted stomach chose that moment to let out a most unladylike growl. Had she even eaten dinner last night? She couldn’t remember, for she’d been distracted by the captain.
“But there’s nothing that says you can’t. Correct?” he asked with an elevated eyebrow.
“I need to monitor the tavern room. Folks must be fed and looked after.”
The captain sent a quick glance around. “As of yet, there aren’t many patrons, and what are here seem to be fully content, so please indulge me.”
Heat infused her cheeks. Oh, he was charming enough, and once more he effortlessly pulled her into his web. “Perhaps I can spare a few minutes.” Helen sat across from him and set her tray on an empty chair beside her. She accepted a cup of coffee when he offered. “I don’t often drink coffee, for I find it too bitter for my tastes.” But the rich, robust scent tantalized her nose and made her feel more vitalized than before.
“It can be an acquired taste, but if you add milk and sugar, it’ll be more palatable.” With a wink, he pushed the small containers of both toward her.
“I’ll try that. Thank you.” Once she’d added two lumps of sugar and a healthy measure of milk and then stirred, Helen sipped the beverage, but pulled a face. “I wonder how long I’ll need to practice before I come to enjoy coffee.”
A genuine laugh escaped him, and that gaiety sent tremors of awareness down her spine. “I can order tea if you’d rather.”
“Please, don’t go to a bother. This is fine.” She took another sip of the coffee, and though it was as bitter as the first go, it wasn’t horrible. “When did you learn to like this brew?”
“During my time in the navy.” He portioned out various foods onto a plate. With each one, he glanced at her with a raised eyebrow as to whether she wanted some or not. “Oftentimes, tea was more difficult to come by, especially with price fluctuations, and coffee was easier to store depending on where we were on the seas. It also kept us more alert than tea.”
“That’s understandable.” As she tucked into her food, she covertly studied him. He possessed neat manners but ate like a man with a hearty appetite. There was the slightest hint of a cleft in his strong chin, and his hair, though a tad longer than current fashion demanded, curled ever so gently at his nape and at his ears. Easily she could imagine him on a naval vessel with the wind ruffling that hair and clawing at his clothing. “How long were you in the military?
He chewed a large mouthful of food. Once he’d swallowed, he said, “Eight years, then I had my own command and ship, employed by the Crown, to do whatever was needed. Mostly we chased down pirates or ferried goods since France commanded blockades at the time.” His shrug lifted one shoulder, but he didn’t slow in his food intake. “It was a good life.”
“You miss it.” The bite of toast she’d taken tasted like cardboard, for he would leave like every man in Port Isaac did.
“On certain days.” He sipped his coffee and watched her. “I won’t lie and say sailing isn’t the best thing I’ve ever experienced, but there are things upon land that vastly make up for that sort of freedom.”
“Oh?” Helen cleared her throat, for even with a spot of marmalade on the toast, the piece had become stuck in her throat. “What’s that?”
“Pretty women like you,” he said with a wink that sent heat into her cheeks. “That’s something we never enjoyed on the sea, and a man could get used to seeing a home light shining and knowing there’s a good woman waiting for him at the end of the day.”
“I do believe you’ve managed to render me speechless, Captain.” Confused by his blatant flirting, she dropped her gaze to her plate and attempted at least three times to scoop beans onto her fork.
“Ah, then I have the advantage for the moment.” His chuckle sent a cascade of tingles down her spine. “It seems the storm has passed this morning.”
“It has.” She glanced at the windows. The sun still hadn’t made a full appearance, but there was a definite lightening. “Cornwall’s weather is often deceptive. No doubt the rain will return just as plans are being made.”
“And what are yours for the day? Surely you won’t work yourself to the bone again.”
“It’s hard work running the inn and tavern. Someone must do it.” And on those days, it felt as if those responsibilities were chains and shackles about her wrists. “Regardless, Christmas is tomorrow, and I’d like to decorate the common rooms a bit.” She shrugged and laid down her fork. Being in his company had caused her appetite to flee. “I’ll tidy up the tavern room after breakfast. Then I thought to walk into the wild places and look for greenery I can use to decorate. It’s usually a refreshing change from all of this.” She waved a hand about to encompass the whole of the property.
“I don’t blame you for wishing to get out. I always feel clearer in mind if I can take in the fresh air regularly.” He ate a few more forkfuls of various offerings before speaking again. His grayish-green eyes were as mysterious as the ever-shifting seas. “Would you want company? No doubt you could use another pair of hands.”
Oh, dear. Being alone with him in the fairy-like Cornish wilderness, even for a short time, had excitement buzzing through her belly. Surely it was folly to contemplate such a thing, but she couldn’t say no to the chance to know him better, for he was pleasant enough. “I could, rather.” Helen nodded and pushed the thoughts from her mind.
“Excellent.” The captain refreshed the coffee in his cup. “It’s always good to have a friend, even for a few days, but especially at Christmas. I’ve found I’ve missed that since returning from the sea.”
Helen cocked an eyebrow. “Have you no friends during the other times of the year?”
The grin he shot her was slightly crooked, and it made him all the more approachable. “Not for a while. My last position was, shall we say, vastly uncomfortable and didn’t end quite as I’d hoped. For that reason, I kept largely to myself.”
“Ah, you were pouting.”
“I never pout.”
“Brooding, then.” She couldn’t help her own grin, for it was such fun teasing him.
“Perhaps, but not overly much.”
“Or hiding, so you could lick your wounds in private.” Just what did he hide from? When Helen met his gaze again, she caught the shadows of sadness reflected in those depths for a second before they vanished with his next blink.
“Lucky guess.” This time there was no joviality in his tone. Somberness lined his expression. “In any event, I should find myself delighted to help you gather greenery and whatnot for Christmas tomorrow. What time shall I meet you?”
It was effective as a door slamming shut. Would they ever revisit the subject? Helen pasted a smile onto her face. There would be time enough later to exchange confidences... perhaps. “At noon, here in the tavern room. I’m glad for the company, Captain Frampton.”
“Please, call me Elias.” He portioned out another serving of eggs. “I haven’t been the captain for a long time now.”
“All right, Elias.” Oh, that word felt splendid indeed on her tongue and her lips. “I’m Helen.”
“A pleasure. It’s a lovely name for a lovely woman.” When he smiled, the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled. Butterflies awoke in her belly, surprising with their presence. Another round of heat infused her cheeks, for he was quite handsome, especially when he grinned and joked about. “I look forward to our trek then. And with that, I should return to work.” Slowly, she rose and grabbed the empty tray. “Enjoy the remainder of your breakfast. At least tramping about the outdoors will work up an appetite. Cook has wonderful things planned for tonight’s dinner.”
“I’ll do it justice, I’m sure.” He once more picked up the book he’d laid aside in order to talk with her. “I look forward to noon.”
Surprisingly, so did she.