House of Salt and Sorrows(67)

“There’s a lighthouse out to the west. We call her Old Maude. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve wanted to live there, to keep her clean and take care of the light. When the apprentice position came up, oh, how I hoped and prayed it would be mine. But Papa sent Fisher instead.”

“The whole world is open to you and you want to hop a few islands over?” Though his question was clearly meant to tease me, true curiosity shone in his eyes.

“I’d never want to leave the sea. It’s my home.”

We turned down another street and heard the murmurs of a crowd. A small stand at the far end of the road sold hot chocolate and tea. Steam rose from the little clapboard stall, a welcome sight as the night grew colder.

“Would you like one?” Cassius asked, rummaging through his pocket for coins.

“Please.”

“There’s no seaweed or anything like that in this, is there?” he joked with the man, pointing toward the copper pots. “Just chocolate?”

“Best in all the islands,” the vendor boasted with a grin.

“Excellent. We’ll take two.”

“Thank you,” I said, accepting the tin mug.

Cassius took a sip and made a face. “I can still taste salt. Does it go into everything here?” The vendor laughed, and he tried it again. “With the caramel, it’s not as bad, but seriously! In every drink!”

We wandered into the park, weaving our way through the ice sculptures until we found a quiet section with an open bench. It was right beside a flotilla of sea turtles, the ice tinted green and lit with blue light.

“Those are my favorites.”

“I know,” he said, taking another sip of the chocolate.

I studied him. “Do you?” I thought back over every conversation we’d had but couldn’t recall mentioning sea turtles before.

His face froze for a split second before breaking into a smile. “Verity told me. Earlier this afternoon—at the kite contest. She’s quite enamored of her older sister, you know.”

I traced the rim of my cup thoughtfully. He’d been talking to Verity about me! It pleased me more than I cared to admit. “I’m awfully fond of her as well.”

“I can see why. She’s charming. All your sisters are. But I ought to tell you…” He reached out and tapped my thumbnail. It was a strangely intimate touch, drawing me closer to him. “I think I like you best of all.”

I couldn’t help my heated grin as his words washed over me, pulling me under and heading straight for my heart. “You do? I was certain…” I trailed off, not wanting to admit my worries from the night before.

He nodded seriously. “Oh yes. Best of all.” He tapped my thumb again, lingering for a moment. “No house or title or lands could ever possibly persuade me otherwise.”

Ashamed at being so easily read, I felt my cheeks color. “But last night you said…”

“I felt terrible about that! I saw how the others were salivating over Highmoor and wanted to make a joke—not an especially good one—but you scurried off before we could laugh at it.”

I looked down at my lap, squirming. “It’s just that so many others are after exactly that. It was easy to believe you were as well.”

“Oh, Annaleigh, forgive me, please. I hate to think I upset you.” He cupped my cheek, his fingertips dancing across my jawline and sending the most delicious flutters down into my chest. “Especially when it’s so patently untrue. I meant what I said—best of all.”

My mouth was too dry to speak, so I bobbed my head, accepting his apology.

Cassius turned back to the statue, smiling and utterly at ease. “Now, tell me about these turtles of yours.”

I sifted through my memories, trying to grab a bright, shining one with all my sisters together, happy and whole.

“It was the summer before Mama passed away. She was pregnant with Verity. We liked to go down to the beach to watch the baby sea turtles hatch and make their way to the sea. That year, one of the nests didn’t hatch with the rest. A big frost came in early. Usually hatchlings head straight for water, but the chill must have disoriented them. They went in the wrong direction, fighting their way up the sand dune. No matter how many times we’d turn them around, up the beach they went. My sisters eventually wanted to head home. The wind cut through our dresses. It felt more like November than August.

“Nine of us were playing on the beach that day—Mercy and Honor were too little. They all marched back to the house without a second glance, tired of trying to help creatures who didn’t seem to want saving.

“I gathered the hatchlings up in my skirt, like a basket, and carried them home. There were so many of them, and they kept trying to fling themselves free. I filled a bathtub with seawater and put them all in it.” My voice was distant, caught in the memories. “The maids were furious I’d brought the little turtles in, but Mama told them to leave me be. She’d come downstairs to watch them flip about in the water, gaining their strength.”

Cassius shifted on the bench, angling his body more toward me instead of facing out. “How long did you keep them there?”

“Nearly a week. I fed them seaweed and little fish eggs. When the weather turned warm again, I brought them back to the beach.”

“And they all raced for the water?” he guessed.