Mr. Laslow blinked at her. “Pardon?”
She wet her lips and tried again. “Mr. Calhoun had been making some toys for me. For me to give to the children, that is.”
“Ah! Yes, I did see some toys yesterday when I came by to work out the contract. They’re in his bedroom, I believe.”
“The contract?”
“Indeed.” He held up a piece of paper. “I just came by to get his signature to finalize the sale of this cottage. But he’s not at home.” His brow furrowed. “I would like to congratulate him in person on his purchase. Do you think I ought to leave it or come back later? He surely won’t be away too late, now will he?”
Abigail had no answer. In fact, she had no thoughts at all anymore. She gave her head a little shake to try and get it to work right.
It didn’t help much. But Mr. Laslow was waiting for an answer. “Er, I’m not certain.”
He nodded, as if that was to be expected. “Yes, well, I suppose I’ll just have to come back.” He arched his brows as he swung the door open farther. “But I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you help yourselves to the toys. They’re yours, after all. He made ’em for you.”
Her heart thudded as if the man had just said something alarming.
Or exciting, at the very least.
“If you think it’s all right,” she murmured as she passed him.
“He’ll be back soon enough, no doubt.” Mr. Laslow seemed to be talking to himself as he walked away. “You have a safe journey, Miss Abigail. And don’t forget about us when you’re in London.”
“No chance of that,” she said as he walked away.
And then she was alone. In Caleb’s home.
His home.
The home he’d bought.
Her head was still spinning despite her effort to remain calm. There was an explanation, certainly. Hadn’t her father told her Caleb had money tucked away? Perhaps he kept the cottage for a safe place to stay when he wasn’t at sea.
Perhaps.
But the thudding of her heart wasn’t paying attention. Neither was her belly, which was fluttering now as if she were racing downhill faster than her legs could keep up.
There was an explanation, surely. Caleb would explain. She glanced out the window and saw the orange hues of the setting sun. If he returned soon. It wouldn’t do to be out alone when her father was still so distraught over her mother and the criminal activity she’d been conducting under his very nose.
Poor Father.
Her poor sisters when they learned the truth.
She gave her head a shake. There’d be time to lament on all that during the long carriage ride to London. For now, she would get the toys he’d made and be on her way.
She was hard pressed to say if it was nerves or fears that had her doubting this decision to come here. Perhaps there really was nothing left to say. Certainly nothing he’d wish to hear. So what was the point? Resolution? Closing a door?
Leaving for London ought to be an ending enough. With that in mind she strode toward the closed bedroom door. Her nerves jangled inside her at the thought of entering into his private room. But then again, he’d likely rather her come and take what she needed than be forced to see her and explain yet again that he did not care for her.
With an exasperated sigh at her own silliness, she reached for the doorknob. She threw the door open and stopped. Her jaw fell open as she took in the scene before her.
“Books,” she whispered. Not just any books. Well-read books, by the looks of it. And they were everywhere. Stacked beside the bed, open flat on the desk. There were books neatly lined up on a bookshelf and books piled high beneath the window.
But he’d said...
Hadn’t he told her...?
The front door opened behind her but she could not bring herself to move.
Caleb’s voice behind her filled the room. “Abigail, I can explain.”
Only then did she drag her gaze away from the shocking sight before her to face him. She took a step toward him and his eyes widened.
In fright, she realized.
She stilled as she took in the sight of this large, handsome, intimidating, beast of a man. The pirate. The man who grunted in lieu of speech.
The man who looked scared stiff at the sight of her approaching.
She wasn’t sure what this new light feeling was in her chest as understanding dawned, slowly but surely.
Hope, perhaps.
She stopped when she was just in front of him and took in his wary gaze. Her own, she suspected, held more than a little glimpse of triumph because now...she understood.
A smile curved her lips upward as the doubts and fears and hopelessness lifted at last. She reached a hand out and touched his chest. His heart. “You can read.”
Chapter 14
Caleb’s heart stumbled in his chest at her touch. Words eluded him in the face of that bright, beautiful smile.
Her eyes glinted with triumph and laughter as she repeated herself. “You can read.”
It wasn’t a question, but he made a noise of agreement nonetheless. What was the point in lying?
“Why did you tell me you were illiterate?” she asked.
There it was again. That utterly patient tone she used with children and uncooperative pirates.
His heart was pounding too loudly. The already small cottage felt like it was closing in on him.
She was here.
He’d started to believe he wouldn’t see her again. Not before she left, at least, and maybe not even after that. But she was here. His Abigail was here. And she was waiting for him to speak. “I didn’t say I was illiterate.”
She blinked at him, and that alone was enough to tell him how idiotic his response had been. “You let me believe that you could not read.”
He nearly threw his hands up in defeat at that oh-so patient tone and the gleam in her eyes that was so smug, so adorable,
