Well, not enjoyable for him, perhaps. But she’d looked forward to her visits. There was something calming about the man who everyone else found so intimidating.
Perhaps it was his long silences or his low voice or the way he was so large but so still. He reminded her of the lighthouse that stood out on a rocky outcrop not far from their home. A strong, unwavering presence in the midst of chaos.
And these days her life did feel rather chaotic.
“It was the sea that chose me.”
Her head snapped up at the sound of that low rumble like thunder in the small carriage. Not a boom, however. Soft enough that it did not rouse her sleeping companion. A smile tugged at Abigail’s lips as she realized the maid had dozed off at some point and that Caleb had waited until she was the only one who could hear.
Her heart fluttered at the thought that he trusted her. And then again at the thought that they were, for all intents and purposes...alone.
“How so?” she asked.
His gaze held her steadily as if watching her reaction as he told her about being born into a life of squalor down by the London docks. About his abusive father and the mother who’d abandoned him. He spoke in a low, even voice, without emotion. Like he was relating someone else’s story.
She made sure to hold his gaze and show no pity, even though her heart felt as though it was being wrenched in every different direction at the thought of a child being treated so.
He would never want her pity, she knew this much to be true. No one wanted pity. But sympathy...that she could not withhold.
“I am so sorry,” she said after he’d revealed how his father had paid off his own debts by selling his son as an indentured servant for a crew of merciless merchants whose real business was in the trading and selling of human souls. “How did you escape that life?” she asked.
His gaze never wavered. Not once. He met her gaze and held it as he told her about the fateful day when pirates boarded that ship. How they’d set him free along with the slaves on board. How they offered him work. Lowly, grueling, menial work, but work. With a wage.
“Not all pirates are decent, of course. But there is a code. There is a hierarchy and an order.” He finally looked away and Abigail let out a long breath.
He’d told her his life story and...she was honored. No, honored didn’t begin to describe this feeling. She was touched, and grateful, and... “Thank you.”
He glanced back over. “For what?”
“For the truth. Most people...” She wet her lips as she tried to organize her thoughts. “Most people speak in half-truths and evasions. Not many tell me the truth. Not the whole truth.”
She cringed. She was doing a terrible job of explaining.
His brows drew down. “I will always tell you the truth.”
She nodded. She believed him. “Why did my father agree to you accompanying me?”
He arched one brow and she could have sworn she saw a flicker of amusement, no doubt because she’d been so quick to leap on his offer of honesty. “Because that Eddleston chap thought he saw someone lurking near the fort.”
She frowned. “Roger?”
He shook his head. “We don’t know.”
She nibbled on her lower lip. “Father did not tell me.”
“He likely did not wish for you to worry.”
Anger flickered through her hot and unexpected. Was it not enough that she’d overcome that unpleasant experience at knifepoint without swooning? What more did she have to do to prove that she could be trusted with the truth?
There were secrets her father was keeping. From her. From her sisters. She only wished she knew what. She sighed and Caleb leaned forward. “If we’re being so honest with one another, tell me the truth. What was that sigh about just now?”
She let out a huff of rueful amusement. She supposed he had her there. Honesty had to go both ways, did it not?
“It is just...” She pressed her lips together and glanced over. That was her first mistake. His gaze was so very fixed. So intent. As if the next words out of her mouth were of the utmost importance to him. “After all you’ve just shared, I feel silly.”
“Why?”
She smiled. “My problems are nothing compared to yours.”
He arched his brows. “Your problems are my problems.”
She blinked as the air rushed out of her lungs. “Pardon me?”
He leaned forward slightly. “I saved your life. Which makes your life and your happiness my responsibility. Tell me what’s wrong and I will help in any way I can.”
The words had an odd effect. She felt as though he’d reached into her chest and squeezed her heart, even as she also felt as though he’d slapped her across the cheek. It was at once so unutterably sweet and so ridiculously patronizing, for a moment she knew not how to respond. “You are not responsible for me.”
He did not so much as blink. “I beg to differ, Miss Abigail.”
“Abigail,” she said. “Just Abigail. If I am to refer to you by your name, then you must do the same.”
He dipped his chin in acknowledgement but that all-seeing gaze of his never wavered. “I have angered you.”
“Yes,” she admitted. “In a way you have. Do not misunderstand, I appreciate that you wish to keep me safe, but...” She swallowed. “I do not wish for you to be kind to me out of some sort of duty or obligation.”
Her words seemed to hang in the air between them. She wiggled in her seat. Idiot. She was the veriest fool. She knew he’d stayed behind to keep an eye on her, her family,
