If I Wait For You Read online

  West felt as if he’d been sucker punched. He could barely bring enough oxygen into his lungs to sustain himself. Indeed, he felt a bit light-headed looking down at her. At Sara. Sara Sara Sara. Her name had been a prayer in his head for so long, her image haunting him, that he still could not quite believe she was standing before him, astonishingly alive. And here she was, holding his wrist, smiling up at him, telling him she was glad to see him. So glad.

  “Sara.” He saw her eyes widen just slightly before he brought his head down to kiss her. Ah, sweetness. He let out a groan, an entreaty, a sound of thanks, when she clung to him, her hands clutching his arms. Without conscious thought, he moved into an alley, a few steps only, to hide them from any passerby. He pressed her against the rough brick, his hands on either side of her head, and brought her mouth hard against his. In some part of his brain, he knew he was being mad, a man made insane from months and months of longing, a man whose heart had shattered only to be miraculously repaired in an instant.

  West swept his tongue into her mouth, tasted her, savoring the sounds she made. How could he have lived so long without her, without seeing her, touching her, tasting her? Truth be told, he hadn’t truly been living these last months. He’d been existing, breathing. It was only now that he felt truly alive.

  It was Sara who was the first to push away, looking up at him dazedly.

  “I’ve missed you. My God, Sara, you cannot know how much.”

  She dropped her eyes so that she was staring at his vest. “I’ve missed you, too. So much has happened since we said good-bye, West. I…” She looked out at the street. “Let’s go see my brother, shall we? We can talk later.” She moved out of the alley, and West followed, feeling out of sorts and completely unfulfilled.

  Zachary looked out over his hometown feeling nothing but a deep sadness. Of all the crewmembers, he was the only one who had not been in a hurry to get home. He no longer had anything here but memories that would haunt him for the rest of his days. He had some vague idea of finding his parents’ killers and clearing Sara’s name, but couldn’t garner much enthusiasm with Sara gone. He still couldn’t believe he was completely alone in this world. A couple walking along the pier caught his attention, only because it was unusual to see a female here this time of night. Something about the woman made him take a harder look.

  As the two figures approached the ship in the darkness, he tried to stop his heart from beating hard in his breast. The woman was slim. Tall. Like Sara.

  “Don’t do this to yourself, idiot,” he muttered to himself, even as hope bloomed in his chest. The closer they got, the more he convinced himself it was her, the more he called himself a fool for believing it. “Oh, God. Please let it be her.”

  “Zachary.” She shouted, lifted up her skirts, rushed up the gangplank, and he was there before she could place a step on the deck, pulling her into his arms, laughing, crying, shouting in joy. He recovered quickly letting her loose so that he could take a good look at her.

  “We thought…”

  “I know. Mr. Mitchell told me. But I’m fine. The Bonny Lassie did sink, but nearly all survived the storm.”

  Zachary covered his face and turned away, overcome. “Sorry,” he muttered.

  “It feels wonderful to know you missed me,” she said, teasing him, putting him at ease for showing such emotion.

  Her brother looked over her shoulder to West. “I owe you an apology, sir.”

  “No. You don’t.”

  Sara gave her brother a questioning look. “I was rather harsh to the captain when I thought you’d died. Said some things.” He shrugged.

  “If you can escort your sister home, Mr. Dawes, I will head home.”

  Sara wondered if he was as weary as he sounded. She was relieved to see him go for she didn’t think she could bear being in his company any more this evening; her emotions were in shambles.

  “It will be my pleasure, sir.”

  The two watched West walk away silently. It wasn’t until he was out of sight before Zachary turned to Sara. “How have you been? Have you had any trouble?”

  Sara shook her head. “No. None at all. When I first arrived, I was so afraid of being recognized I didn’t leave the house for months and months. It’s the strangest thing, Zachary. No one has questioned me or even suggested I look familiar. Of course, the Mitchells travel in a much different circle than we did. Sara Dawes is a murderess. Sara Dawson is a poor orphaned girl, perhaps even an heiress, depending on the gossip one believes.” Sara let out a small laugh, then immediately sobered. “I’m living a lie and perhaps the most horrible thing is I don’t even feel all that guilty anymore for lying to two of the few people in this world who love me. I just feel relieved they haven’t discovered who I really am.”

  “You’ll have to tell them some time. If we find Nathan, everything will come out.”

  Sara let out an anguished moan. “I know. I know, I know. I’ve been lying for so long it’s become natural. The thought of telling the Mitchells terrifies me. You’ve no idea how wonderful my life has been. Sometimes I feel as if I’m in a fairy tale and I am the princess. But I will tell them. I will.”

  Zachary let out a heavy sigh of relief. “You have to,” he repeated. “I’d hoped to come across Nathan’s ship, but we never crossed paths. He’s our only hope, and it’s a slim one at best. I’ve a feeling he’d tell the truth if caught. But the other men, the ones who tried to kill you, they may be still out there, looking for you. We can’t pretend our parents were not murdered, Sara. We can’t pretend you’re not a wanted woman.”

  “That’s exactly what I have been doing,” Sara said, feeling a rush of grief. “I have thought about trying to find the real killers, hiring a detective. But then I’d have to reveal who I am and I was just too afraid, Zachary. You’ve no idea what they think of me here, the real me, that is. I am the girl who killed her lover then burned her mother and father alive. Can you imagine? If the people knew I was the Sara Dawes, I fear they would murder me on the spot. I even walked to the courthouse once, prepared to turn myself in.” She shook her head in despair. “I couldn’t do it. I’m such a coward.”

  “I am in a much better position to investigate, Sara. And you’ve a right to be afraid of what would happen. That does not make you a coward. I’m just glad you’re safe. I had my doubts, you know, when the captain announced he was sending you back here. I was quite angry with him for sending you home. And then when I thought you’d died. Well. I very nearly killed him.”

  Sara opened her eyes in shock. “Zachary!”

  “I exaggerate. I stalked into his cabin ready at least to do him serious injury, but when I saw him, I couldn’t.” Zachary looked into the night sky. “Sara. He was crying. Later he confessed something to me. I’m not certain I should tell you.”

  For some reason, dread and something close to hope filled Sara’s heart. “What?” she whispered.

  “He loves you.”

  “He told you that?” She wanted to scream at her brother that he was lying or mistaken. West did not love her. If he did, oh, God, if he did…

  “Yes. He said he wrote you a note, telling you to wait for him. I didn’t believe it at the time. I was still so angry. I blamed him for your death. You know all along I wanted him to marry you in truth.”

  “I never received a note.”

  “He said he gave it to the Bonnie Lassie’s captain.”

  Sara shook her head, not wanting to believe West had sent such a note. Because had she seen such a note, she would have waited—forever she would have waited, putting her heart safely away. But she had not seen the note.

  And she had not waited.

  It was a glorious day for a wedding. Overhead the sky was nearly cloudless but for a few cottony puffs floating artistically overhead, as if the bride’s parents had ordered them specifically for this fine day. Lord knew, thought West darkly, everything else about the event was perfect.

  After being at sea for years, West always felt a
bit uncomfortable being back home and “among people.” Talk among the men was predictable—the price of whale oil was going up or down. The Arctic season would be good or bad. West didn’t want to talk about whaling. He didn’t want to be here at all. What he wanted was to grab Sara’s arm and drag her away from the drooling lads that followed her about—including his own brother. He wanted to stake a claim, but could not. For one of those swains had already done so. He had a burning need to find out which one had stolen his Sara’s heart, which one was responsible for the rage coursing through his veins.

  A string quartet played softly, the musicians’ efforts going seemingly unnoticed by those strolling about the manicured lawns behind the Shelton mansion. Shelton was perhaps the largest ship owner in the city—and by far the wealthiest. He not only owned a seventeen-ship whaling fleet, but three clipper ships, and numerous merchant ships, as well. The man did things in a big way, and that included giving his lovely daughter, Eunice, a wedding fit for a princess.

  West stared at the champagne bubbling in his crystal flute and tried to ignore the music of Sara’s laughter, finding it an impossible task.

  “West, old man, do me a favor,” Gardner said, dragging an unwilling-looking Sara on his arm. “Look after my girl for me, will you? And keep all those fools away from her? I’ve got to pay attention to the maid of honor else Eunice will have my throat. That girl’s a terror. Baxter’s got his work cut out for him.” He lifted Sara’s hand and pressed a kiss there. “I won’t be long,” he said warmly, before placing her hand on West’s forearm.

  Sara smiled up at West, hoping he wouldn’t notice how she shook. His arm was hard beneath her hand, as if he were clenching his fist. She darted a look down and saw that he was not, though he had the distinct air of anger about him. Despite herself, she experienced a surge of hope that West was jealous—then immediately chastised herself for such a traitorous thought. Gardner deserved better. Sara steeled herself against whatever it was that West made her feel when she was anywhere near him. She’d been aware of him all day, could almost feel his eyes upon her even as she did her best to ignore him and the maddening urge to go to him.

  “Lovely wedding, wasn’t it?”

  West looked down at her for the first time, pinning her with his eyes. He tore his gaze away abruptly. “Quite.”

  “Have you and Miss Smithers set a date?” she asked, to remind him, perhaps, that he was just as duplicitous as she was.

  “We’ve broken it off. Much to her vast relief,” he said without inflection.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I am not.”

  Sara’s already nervous stomach did a sharp twist. She dropped her hand from his arm and stood by him awkwardly, wondering how long she would have to remain by his side before making an excuse and escape. She had not seen him to talk to since he walked away from the Julia leaving her with her brother. And now, after telling herself she didn’t care for him, all she could think about was how wonderful—how terrifyingly wonderful—it had felt to be pressed up against the wall feeling his hard body against hers. She could feel her cheeks flush from the memory.

  “So,” he said conversationally. “It’s Gardner you’ve given your heart to.” Any hint of anger had disappeared.

  “Yes,” she said, surprised that he seemed not to know. “He didn’t tell you?”

  He shook his head slightly. “No.” West was silent a moment, an uncomfortable, excruciating moment. “I wish you both well. Though I can’t help but wonder why you both chose to keep it a secret from me. As if I would object.”

  “It’s not a secret. I thought I mentioned it. Or Gardner did.” Now that he questioned her, she realized she had carefully omitted that information, somehow knowing West would not be pleased. “And given the circumstances,” she said in an attempt at honesty, “it is rather awkward. Perhaps that is why we made no announcement.”

  He turned to look at her, quirking one eyebrow. “And what circumstances are those?”

  “Zachary told me of your letter.”

  “I see.”

  Sara stared at him looking for some sign of what he was feeling, but his expression was unreadable.

  “I never got your letter,” she said softly.

  He gave her a sharp nod. “It said nothing of consequence,” he said curtly.

  “But Zachary…”

  “Does not know what that note contained. It was nothing. Simply a bon voyage. A note wishing you well on your journey.”

  Sara studied him, wishing her heart was not so torn by what she saw. He was magnificent in his formal wear, his ever-curling hair tamed only slightly. He still had the look of a seaman, his face was darkly tanned, and the few lines on his face stood out white in contrast. He stood before her, feet planted slightly apart, his hands behind his back, looking every inch the sea captain. Looking every inch like a man who did not care whether she was in love with twenty men, never mind his younger brother.

  “Zachary said you asked me to wait for you,” she persisted rashly.

  He let out a small laugh. “Oh, Sara, did he say that?”

  A rush of pain filled her at his amused, derisive tone. She lifted her chin, hating the unexpected knot that burned in her throat. “Just so you know, even if I had received your note, I would still have fallen in love with Gardner.”

  His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Sara, you are many things. But you have never been a good liar.”

  Anger surged through Sara, more at the truth of his words than that he would say them to her. “You arrogant wretch. How dare you say such a thing?”

  He stepped toward her, and Sara was suddenly aware that anyone looking their way would clearly see they were engaged in a highly emotional scene. Though she wanted to back away, she held her ground, trying to look for all the world unaffected by this angry man looming over her. She even smiled up at his scowling face.

  “I dare, Miss Dawes, because when you kissed me just a few nights ago, you didn’t respond like a woman in love with another man.”

  “I hope you are not insinuating that I still love you.” She laughed shrilly, a hateful sound. “Don’t be absurd. And don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Mitchell. You have an overactive imagination.”

  With that, with her heart racing madly in her breast, she turned and walk away with as much dignity as she could muster all the time feeling, like heated pinpricks, his eyes boring through her back.

  West watched her go, trembling from the need to drag her back, to make her admit that she loved him still. Or at least admit that she wanted him. He told himself he’d done a favorable job hiding what he felt when he saw his mother staring at him, concern clearly written in her face. From this distance, Julia Mitchell looked like a young girl, trim and pretty holding her white parasol, sitting perfectly erect in one of the cushioned chairs that dotted the Shelton’s lawn. With an inward sigh, West strode toward his mother.

  She did not equivocate. “Were you and Sara having an argument?”

  West pulled a chair next to his mother and sat down. “I hardly know the girl well enough to have formulated a differing opinion,” he said blandly.

  Julia ignored his denial. “I wouldn’t want a rift between any member of this family and Sara. She has become like a daughter to me, West. And I believe will be a daughter in fact in not too long.”

  West knew his mother was studying him, but he could not completely pretend indifference to her words. “Has Gardner proposed, then?” Unwillingly, his eyes sought out his brother, who was part of a laughing group of young men and women. He quickly discerned that Sara was not among them and felt unaccountably relieved.

  “No, he has not. Not yet. But it’s obvious that they are in love.”

  “Not so obvious,” he said, bringing out a cigar so that he would have something to do with his hands other than clench them as he so badly wanted to do. “I didn’t realize it until just moments ago.” He immediately cursed himself for revealing too much, and his prayer that his mother would ignore hi
s mistake was futile.

  “West. Leave them be.”

  He lit his cigar and puffed gently to light it. “I have no intention of interfering with them. And no desire to do so.” It was a lie, of course. He wanted Sara for himself, but he knew he was too noble to do anything as low as step between his brother and the woman he loved.

  “You love her.”

  He took a thoughtful drag. “Yes, Mother, I do. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ve had about enough of these happy nuptials. I’m going home.”

  His mother uttered a sound of protest, but he ignored her and walked purposefully toward the house. When he reached the marble terrace, a servant swept open a door that led to the ballroom and which would eventually lead him to the front door. A few people, mostly elderly women, were gathered in the coolness of the cavernous room, chatting or dozing. He nodded to those he passed and made for the door where yet another servant stood at the ready. He would have made it out of the house had he not heard the rustling of skirts behind him on the stairs. For some reason he knew it was Sara making her way down the curving steps. She stopped when he turned, looking down at him, staring, almost as if she were afraid to take the remaining steps. She did not look as if she’d been crying. Indeed, she looked like any number of well-bred young ladies: serene and self-possessed. Not at all like Sara Dawes. His eyes swept over her, taking in for the first time her intricately coifed hair, her stunning and stunningly expensive gown.

  “You’ve done quite well for yourself, Miss Dawson,” he said, stressing her last name.

  Her mouth opened slightly, but she remained silent. Already he regretted his words and he took a step forward, bringing his head down before looking her in the eyes again. “I apologize, Sara.”

  She seemed to hesitate, then walked down the three remaining steps with quiet grace. “You’re leaving?”

  “I find I’m not in a celebratory mood.”

  She bit one side of her full lower lip. “I said awful things. I’m sorry.”