Liberty Hill (Western Tide Series) (29 page)

Evelyn stole along the path, careful not to wander too far. She did not know exactly what she was looking for, only that she wanted a bit of peace.

She realized then that she had forgotten to put on her shoes. Her toes dug into the soft, dark earth and she smiled. For the briefest of seconds, she felt like a little girl again.

This would be her little secret.

She had not gone far when the ground began to slope, and, up ahead, the trees parted to the west, promising an open view to whatever lay beyond. She walked a little faster, her heart beating with excitement. What was out there? she wondered. Another cliff? Another village? A set of rolling hills or a plain?

When she came upon it, she stopped short and gaped at the sight before her. There, through the trees and between the mountains, was the Pacific Ocean. It lay glittering and opaline beneath the morning sky, stretching sleepily into the horizon.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice said from behind her.

Startled to find she was not alone, she turned around to see Lucius Flynn. He was leaning against a tree not ten feet away, his hair unkempt and a few days’ worth of beard growing along his jaw. He had not shaved since disembarking the
Steam Rose
, for he had seen no reason to do so. When he wished it, Lucius could grow a fantastic beard, a fact of which he was very proud.

Evelyn had been so engrossed in her little adventure, she had failed to notice him.

“What are you doing awake?” she asked, tugging at the collar of her robe.

“I could sleep no longer and thought I might catch the sunrise.”

“I thought I was alone.”

            “So did I.”

Evelyn smirked.

“Well, good morning, then,” she said. She was surprised at herself, for though she had been searching for privacy, she was not altogether displeased at Lucius’ presence.

“Good morning, lass,” Lucius replied. “Did you rest well?”

“Aye. And you?”

“Oh, I don’t sleep much these days.”

“I’m sorry to hear it. Is it the humidity? Or the bugs?” Evelyn could go down a long list of the things that kept
her
up at night.

“No,” Lucius said. “Excitement. That’s all.”

“
Excitement?
” Evelyn cocked an eyebrow.

“I start thinking about what we’re doing, where we’re
going
,” Lucius continued energetically, “and I spend the rest of the night dreaming about it.”

Evelyn shook her head and laughed.

“I don’t understand you,” she told him.

He shrugged and smiled in return. He pushed off his tree and walked towards her.

“Do you know who greeted me when I came outside this morning?” he asked.

“Who?”

“None other than your furry friend from yesterday. Here to pay a call to the ladies, I’m sure.”

“Oh. You must mean
Adele’s
friend. I’m not quite sure Winston and I got off on the right foot. I was quite abrasive.”

“Are you kidding? You were fabulous.”

“I was out of my mind.”

“Well yes, you were quite daft. But you didn’t hear it from me.”

“You are a terrible tease, do you know that?”

“I should hope so. I’ve had great practice.”

“Practice? You could have made it your profession.”

“I had other engagements which required my commitment.”

“Like what?” Evelyn asked, dubious.

“Why,
you
, of course.”

“Ah, I see. And our marriage caused you to change your habits for, what, six hours?”

“I may have removed my wedding band, but I had no intentions of compromising our agreement.” He looked at her sideways. “I still don’t, you know.”

There was a question in his eyes, but she did not see it.

“Until it is ended,” she corrected him.

Lucius nodded heavily.

“Aye,” he sighed. “Until it is ended.”

“You are faithful only because you are not surrounded by beautiful women to tempt your affections,” Evelyn added, baiting him with another jest. But Lucius had grown earnest. He took a step closer, his eyes bearing into hers. There, standing before him, was a very beautiful woman indeed.

“Am I not?” he asked.

His sudden intensity made her uncomfortable, and Evelyn felt herself weakening beneath his gaze. She abruptly looked away.

“You could not afford to entertain the thought,” she replied, training her eyes on the distant ocean. “You must have poured all of your wit and energy into this mighty excursion. I cannot imagine the months it must have taken to plan for something like this.”

“Miss Brennan, do you really think me the type to go to such lengths?” Lucius grinned. “I despise deskwork. I hired a man to make the arrangements.”

“Ah, but of course. How silly of me. But what of your father? Will your hired man show discretion?”

“He kept his silence while we were in New York, when it was most crucial for him to do so. Sooner or later, my father will learn of my whereabouts, and when he does, it will not matter. He will be furious, but he will move on. That is the only option he has.”

“He could come after you, Lucius.”

“He would never. He will cut his losses and find a more willing man to take my place.”

Evelyn thought of what would inspire a man to betray his father, and she grew sad. Lucius had willingly chosen the life of an orphan, a life no orphan would have chosen for himself.

“Do you not believe that what you’ve done will break your father’s heart?” she asked Lucius softly.

“‘An eye for an eye’, as they say,” Lucius replied wryly. “He stole my past and sacrificed it in the name of industry. I am stealing his future and sacrificing it in the name of independence.”

His words were laced with a bitterness of which Evelyn was all too familiar. It was the same bitterness that had driven them apart. She could not have prepared herself for what happened between them when they were barely more than children, or how that single incident would change everything they once knew about each other.

She glanced at Lucius then, and was startled to find that underneath the few days’ stubble, he looked so very much like he had that day, six years ago. The day he had broken her heart.

Chapter Twenty-Five

She slowly opened the old door, careful not to acquire any splinters, and hoped that her pace would allow the boy a second or two to realize he was no longer alone. The door creaked loudly, disturbing the great silence and overcoming the boy’s quiet sobs. For one elongated second, it was the only sound either of them could hear.

The smell of the stables swept through the girl’s senses before her eyes adjusted to the space within, the sweet odor betraying the presence of hay and horses. As sunlight penetrated the darkness, she saw her father’s stallion relaxing against the gate of his stall, his eyes threatening to close from pleasure as a gentle hand caressed the bridge of his nose. As the door swung wider still, she saw the face to whom the hand belonged.

She had known him all her life, but in those twelve years, she had never seen him cry. His hair was wild, as it always was, and his face was dirty, as it always was; but the tears were new, and at the sight of them, her breath caught in her throat, and she was immediately distraught over his sorrow.

“Lucius?” she called, her voice gentle, quiet. She did not want to startle him.

The creaking door had been ample warning of company, so the boy was not surprised at her presence. Instead he turned his face away and used his sleeve to wipe his eyes and nose, leaving a new trail of dirt across his cheeks. He did not reply until he was certain of his voice, and even then, his words were brief.

“Go away, Evelyn.”

It felt wrong for him to say, but he felt threatened and vulnerable in her presence. He did not want her to see him like this; like the weak and disillusioned young man he had become. He was two years her senior. He was supposed to be strong.

He heard the rustle of her skirts as she drew closer, her strong will ever prevailing in moments when it was instructed to do otherwise.

“Why do you cry, boy?” she asked.

He coughed in an attempt to stop weeping.

“I’m not crying. Go back to your studies, lass.”

Evelyn always went outside between her lessons, and there was a time when he used to join her. But that was a long time ago now.

“I was picking the flowers on the other side of the barn when I heard you,” she told him. “I know you were crying. You don’t have to lie to me, Lucius. Tell me what is bothering you.”

He looked down at the ground, and although he could not see her face, he saw the bottom of her dress where she stood just behind him, with her hand at her side, curled around a bundle of bluebells. Her favorite.

 “Is it your da?” she persisted.

In reply, Lucius turned to a post, clenched his fist, and struck the splintering wood with sudden aggression. The sharp crack startled the horses, who shuffled their hooves and whinnied in protest, while Evelyn started in fright.

Yes. It was his da.

When Lucius lowered his fist, Evelyn watched as blood emerged from beneath his skin, pooling and spreading over his knuckles.

They were both quiet a moment.

“He has taken everything from me,” Lucius said presently, his throat hoarse.

His voice had changed in the last year. Evelyn had rarely seen him these past months, and the transformation was incredible. He was no longer the boy with whom she had once learned and played. His hair was darker, longer; his eyes sharpened by hard work and disappointment. He was her only friend, yet he was growing up unwillingly and, in consequence, they were growing apart.

He was nine when his father first took him to the docks. Lucius had long anticipated that moment, had anticipated all the glory of the sea wrapped up in the promise of the captain he would one day become. He could even hear the way his title would roll off the tongues of friendly traders and subordinate sailors, the way it tasted of respect when he imagined his own father calling him
Captain
instead of that empty, disappointing
Boy
…

But alas, how many days of dreams are forfeit to memories of disappointment. 

There were to be no adventures. No seas but that teasing blue line that kissed the distant horizon. For Lucius there were only molds, restraints, expectations. Numbers, ledgers, politics, responsibilities.

He was an apprentice, a secretary. Nothing more. And one day he would be a partner. Nothing more.

The soles of his feet were glued to land. The dock planks knew the ocean more intimately than he, and thus it would remain for the rest of his life. His father had made sure of that.

Lucius could no longer speak of glory. Could not even whisper it. It stuck thick as blood in the back of his throat and there it remained, slowly trickling down and around his heart like a cold, black frost.

She watched him as these hopeless thoughts manipulated his mouth into a grimace. His chest heaved, his skin flushed scarlet with fury. Evelyn hated to see him like this. In the years they had grown up together, they had seen the best and worst of each other. Evelyn had seen a dejected Lucius on more than one occasion, but this rampage was different. This was evidence of a deep pain that she could not heal, and her heart ached because of it.

She stepped beside him and tenderly touched his wounded hand.

The contact startled him, for in his rage, he had forgotten she was there.

He wrenched his hand away and in one thoughtless instant, struck her passionately across the face. His bleeding knuckles marked where the violent blow fell, and she pressed a shaking hand to her cheek, eyes wide with pain and apprehension.

Lucius stared at her in equal shock.

Neither one of them said a word. The only sound was of the wind as it blew through the rafters.

Her skin tingled with pain and her ears burned with embarrassment. She turned her back to Lucius and stood, rigid and still, not knowing what else to say or do.

Lucius was mortified. He wanted to say her name, to reach out and touch her shoulder, to beg her forgiveness. He didn’t mean to do what he had done, would never deliberately injure her. She was his oldest friend; indeed, she was his only friend. He had watched over her, protected her for as long as he could remember.

In his passion, he had created a divide that no apology could breach. Even as a child, Evelyn was proud. She had come to comfort him, and he had wounded her. The damage done would not be easily repaired.

Words failed him, his muscles disobeyed his intentions, and he did nothing but watch from the lowest seat of remorse as Evelyn took one step, then two. When she came to the door, her cape caught the wind as she stepped away from the stables and onto the emerald grass. She walked away from him, the rift between them growing with her every step.

* * *

The power of the memory forced her to look away, her skin flushed.

“I am so very sorry for what happened when you were a boy, Lucius,” she told him. “For everything you lost, and everything that was taken from you.”

Lucius dropped his eyes as his mind returned to that same time and place.

“
You
are sorry, Evelyn?”

“What happened in the stables that day-”

“Was my fault entirely.”

“But your father had caused you so much pain. If only I had understood then…”

“I overreacted.”

“It broke my heart.”

“And my hand.”

“I am sorry,” she said again.

“So am I.”

They were silent a moment. They had never spoken of that day before now. It was a bit more than either of them knew how to handle.

Evelyn wrung her hands, and Lucius kicked at the dirt. Both of them waited for the other to speak.

 “The cord between my father and I has been severed,” Lucius finally said. “I am my own man now, free to reclaim the lost adventures of my youth. Free to dream again. I can already feel the good it has done me. I no longer toss and turn at night, wondering how in God’s name I am to survive tomorrow. On the contrary, I
embrace
tomorrow. I long for it, for it is mine to do with what I wish. That is my liberty, such as I have never known before.”