She started, clearly unaware of his approach. But when she would have turned, he took her shoulders in his hands, forcing her to remain with her back to him.
“No. Don’t,” he said, so quietly that he wondered if she would hear. “Let the interference of a stranger remain just that…the actions of a stranger.”
He didn’t know where the words came from. His voice was gruff, telling. Kindness had become a foreign emotion to him. For so long he’d been angry at the world and most of the people who inhabited it. And yet at this moment, with this woman, he found his anger slipping away, leaving him bereft, hollow, and infinitely sad.
Long, long ago, in another lifetime, his wife had hated to be caught crying—and uncomfortable with such womanly emotions, Gabe had been happy to let her vent her grief in private. Now, years later, he didn’t think that he could bear to see this woman’s cheeks stained with tears. He didn’t want to remember her that way. Days from now, months, years, he wanted to recall the way he’d first seen her in the corridor.
Beautiful.
Happy.
The woman sniffed, taking the handkerchief. “Thank you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m not normally so…what I mean is I…”
Her hand waved in the air, a bright patch of white from his handkerchief and a darker, eloquent shadow caused by her gloves. Inexplicably, Gabe wished that her hands were bare. He wanted to see the velvety texture of her fingers. From his vantage point behind her, she was little more than a shadow. Only the lighter patch of her hair and a brief glimpse of the skin at the nape of her neck helped to remind him that she was flesh and blood.
Gabe’s heart floundered sluggishly in his chest. Years of avoiding even the barest hint of attraction seemed to dissolve, leaving him aching with loneliness. He suddenly felt like a shell of a man. The anger that he had carried with him left a taste on his tongue like ashes.
Dear God, what had this woman done to him? In the space of a few minutes, she had exposed his life for what it was—an endless struggle to forget. Nothing more. Nothing less.
But could it ever be anything more? He’d had his one chance at happiness, and through his own carelessness, his wife and son had died. It was his fault that he hadn’t sent them away to safety during the war. He should have forced Emily to leave their farm—or at best, should have ensured she’d had someone with her for protection.
A breeze caught at the tiny curls that had escaped the coils of the woman’s hair. The scent of lilies wafted around him, making him ache with sadness.
So delicate…so feminine…
So real.
He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t pollute her presence with his own. She was so clean and fresh, while he…he was a mere shell of a man, one who had brought more than his fair share of shame and pain upon his family.
Even as he tried to remind himself that he wasn’t worthy of a woman like this, a yearning began to pulse within him. He wanted to feel the softness of a woman against him, caress the velvety texture of her skin. But he soon realized that the hunger had far less to do with a sexual need than with a hunger for companionship and compassion.
Instantly, he shrank away from the idea. No. Hadn’t he learned his lesson already? Could he so easily forget that such indulgences could bring a searing pain along with the pleasure? Could he forget his responsibilities?
He was tired, that was all. He’d already decided that this would be his last job for the Pinkerton Agency. He’d grown increasingly restless within the structure the job required.
But where did he intend to go? What was he looking for that he didn’t already have?
Not a woman, surely. He wasn’t a man worthy of a good woman, and he’d already sworn to himself that he would never allow another female into his heart. He owed Emily that much. He might not have been the husband she’d needed during her short life, but he would grieve her properly now that she was gone.
Which was the very reason he needed to return to his duties and forget this woman, this moment.
But just as he would have released her, Louisa shuddered, and in that instant, he knew he had no recourse but to remain for a few minutes longer. If he didn’t, he would regret his aloofness for the rest of his life.
“I’m sorry,” the woman sobbed again.
Reaching out, he briefly laid his fingers on her arm. “There’s no need to explain.” He didn’t want to know what had upset her. Once he learned the cause of her pain, a bond, no matter how innocent, would be formed between them.
Louisa looked down, then took a shaky breath.
“I don’t know why I’m crying. I have everything ahead of me. Everything I’ve ever wanted.” She offered a sound that was half laugh, half sob, and pressed his handkerchief to her mouth. “I guess that the strain of worry has merely worn me down.”
Not sure how he should respond, Gabe stated, “You’ll be on dry land tomorrow.” Despite his matter-of-fact observation, he stroked her hair with his thumb, and one of the tendrils wrapped around his knuckle as if to trap him there.
She nodded. “Yes, but I still have a long journey ahead of me.”
“Eventually you’ll arrive at your destination.”
“I suppose that’s true. I’ll be glad when I have a home of my own.” Her tone was wistful.
A home of her own.
Gabe could understand the woman’s longing. There were times when he failed to work long and hard enough to exhaust himself before sleep. On those evenings, he remembered when he’d belonged to something other than himself.
A family.
Dear heaven, why think about that now?
Just as suddenly as he had been swamped with the need to follow this woman, Gabriel now had an overwhelming urge to walk away. In the scant moments they had been together, she had managed to stir emotions that he had buried in the same cold earth that now held his wife and son. If he didn’t leave her now…
He tore his hand free from the capricious tendril that would have held him captive.
“Will you be all right here alone?” Although he kept his voice a soft whisper, he couldn’t completely conceal his sudden brusqueness.
The woman stiffened in obvious embarrassment. “Yes. Yes, I’m sorry.”
She made a move to return his handkerchief, but he quickly said, “No. Keep it. You may have need of it sometime in the future.” And he didn’t need another reminder of how quickly this woman had infiltrated his defenses.
He hesitated only a moment, feeling that he should do more, offer more. But with a final light touch to her hair—an action that was more caress than dismissal—he retreated into the darkness, stepping behind a stack of crates.
He waited there for long moments, his heart pounding inexplicably, until he finally heard the rustle of silk.
Then she was gone, hurrying below deck, narrowly missing Gabriel’s hiding place in her haste.
Berating himself for being ten times a fool, Gabriel made his way to the skiff. He had a job to do, and he’d best be keeping his mind on the matters at hand. He didn’t have the time or the energy to worry about a mysterious woman whom he would never see again.
Nevertheless, as he rowed into the shadows, his mind returned irresistibly to the woman in silk and sapphires. What had brought her here to New York?
And what kind of freedom awaited her that would make her call out in happiness, then cry as if her heart were broken?
Dawn was still hours away when the woman stretched sinuously, her hand sliding over