Captain Molloy pointed. ‘Walk to the top of that street and you’ll find the inn. My cousin runs the place, Niall Molloy, so give him my name and he will see to your needs.’
Lucien shook the Captain’s hand. ‘We owe you a great debt of gratitude.’
The man looked abashed. ‘Aw, ’twas nothing. You more than earned your keep. The lady, too, poor bhean.’
Still, Captain Molloy and his men would each receive a generous gift from Lucien as soon as it could be arranged.
He climbed off the boat and on to the dock, turning back to help Rebecca disembark. She jumped the gap and landed in his arms. She felt too good in his arms.
She found her footing and turned back to say a final goodbye.
He offered his arm. ‘Your legs may take time to get used to land.’
‘I will miss the crew.’ She allowed him to steady her as they walked away from the dock up the street.
On the small boat, they were rarely not in someone’s company.
‘At least you will have a room of your own in the inn,’ Lucien reassured her.
She sighed. ‘It will seem strange after the fishing boat.’
They found the inn and entered its public rooms, seeking out the innkeeper who was serving ale to several men seated at tables.
‘Niall Molloy?’ Lucien asked.
‘That I am,’ he answered.
‘We are off your cousin’s boat,’ Lucien told him. ‘Rescued at sea from the wreck of the Dun Aengus.’
The man’s bushy red eyebrows rose. ‘From the Dun Aengus? We heard news of it. Finn picked you up? Is that not a jest? My cousin. Imagine. How long before Finn rescued you?’
‘The second day,’ Lucien replied.
‘I imagine that was time enough.’ He wiped his hands.
Lady Rebecca broke in. ‘Can you tell us about the shipwreck. Did—did many die?’
The innkeeper lowered his head. ‘All but a handful, reports say. Maybe a dozen survived, as I recall it.’ He smiled. ‘A dozen plus the two of you.’
Her face pinched in pain.
‘Well, sad it is, but the sea giveth and the sea taketh away.’ He clapped his hands together. ‘You need a room? What else may I do for you?’
‘Two rooms,’ Lucien said. ‘But, for now, a good meal.’
The man laughed. ‘Finn’s food not the best, eh? I guarantee we will show him up.’
He gestured for them to sit at a table separate from the other diners and quickly served them large tankards of ale and mutton stew.
The other men seated there did not hide their curious glances.
‘Am I not presentable?’ Rebecca asked. ‘They keep looking at me.’
Lucien turned and glared at the other patrons and they quickly averted their gazes. ‘Presentable enough. They probably are not accustomed to seeing a lady here.’
She looked up, her eyes questioning. ‘Should I not be here, then? If I do not belong here?’
He must remember that much would be new to her. ‘You can certainly be here.’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Because I am happy to be eating so well.’
So well? Compared to the last three weeks, perhaps, but surely this food was as beneath her as the simple fare on the fishing boat.
She dipped her spoon into her stew and lowered her eyes. ‘They are staring again.’
He shrugged. ‘More likely, then, it is your beauty that attracts them.’
Her eyes flew up and were filled with anxiety. ‘My beauty?’
‘You are a beauty,’ he said. ‘Did you not know that?’
She blushed. ‘I—I have not seen a mirror since—since the shipwreck. I do not know what I look like.’ She dropped her spoon and lifted her hands to her face.
The innkeeper entered the room. ‘Stop acting the maggot, fellas. Leave the lady alone.’
‘No harm in lookin’,’ one of the men grumbled.
‘Yeah?’ the innkeeper said. ‘I’ll give ye a knuckle supper if ye do not stop.’
Rebecca lowered her gaze again. ‘I am causing commotion.’
Her distress disarmed him. ‘It is mere banter. Do not pay it any mind.’
Lucien tore off a piece of bread and dipped it in the stew. She took careful spoonfuls, as if made self-conscious for being an object of attention.
It had never occurred to him that she would not know what she looked like. Was it possible she had no memory of her appearance?
She placed her spoon on the table and folded her hands in her lap.
He put down his piece of bread. ‘Would you like to see your room now?’
She’d want to be away from the staring eyes. Or where she could look in a mirror.
She set her chin determinedly. ‘Yes.’
He called the innkeeper over.
‘My wife will take you to the rooms,’ the innkeeper said.
A kindly faced woman with hair as red as her husband’s met them in the hall. ‘I am Mrs Molloy, I am. My husband told me you were in a shipwreck and Finn saved you. Finn is a good man.’
‘A very good man, ma’am,’ Lucien agreed.
She took them up a flight of stairs to two rooms side by side. She opened the doors to both of them and gave them the keys.
* * *
Claire noticed right away there was a mirror above a bureau.
‘Shall I come and help you undress when the time comes?’ Mrs Molloy asked.
Claire forced her gaze away from the mirror. ‘That would be very kind.’
‘Anything else we can do for you?’ the woman asked.
Claire responded. ‘I can think of nothing—’
Lucien interrupted her. ‘Baths? May we arrange baths?’
Mrs Molloy smiled. ‘To be sure you’ll be wanting baths after what you’ve been through. Would you want your clothes laundered, as well?’
‘I am not certain they are salvageable,’ Lucien said.
‘We’ll just have to find you something else to wear, won’t we?’ She patted his arm and left.
Claire could not take her eyes off the mirror, but she hesitated.
Lucien took her by the arm. ‘Delay never helps.’ He walked her over to the mirror and stood her directly in front of it.
His grip gave her courage. She lifted her head and looked in the mirror.
‘What do you see?’ he asked.
She laughed in relief. ‘I see me! I feared I would see a stranger, but I look like me. Same brown hair, same eyes, same nose that is unfashionable, same lips. I look like me.’
Was she a beauty? If so, she disliked the stares of men.
Except for Lucien. That he thought her beautiful made her feel warm all over.
His reflection was behind hers, his expression unreadable. He was so very handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, hair and beard dark as the night, eyes as brown and