Hard-Hearted Highlander. Julia London

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       CHAPTER SIX

      AVALINE WAS FINALLY ALONE. She was never alone; there was always someone about to tell her what to do, what to say, how to behave.

      It had been a very long day and a draining evening at Balhaire. Her eyes and her face were swollen from sobbing, and her mother’s attempt at making a compress had only angered her. She’d sent her mother from the room, had locked the door behind her.

      Now, Avaline had no tears left in her. What she had was a hatred of her father that burned so intently she felt ashamed and concerned God would strike her dead for it. She hated how her father treated her, but she hated worse how she sobbed when he said such awful things to her. She was quite determined not to, but she could never seem to help herself.

      What she told him was true—she had done her best this evening. She had tried to engage that awful man as Bernadette said, had tried to be pleasant and pretty and quiet. Nothing worked. What was she to do? He stared at her with those dark, cold eyes. His jaw seemed perpetually clinched. He rarely spoke to her at all, and when he did, every word was biting. He hated her. Which was perfectly all right as far as Avaline was concerned, because she hated him, too, hated the very sight of him.

      And the singing! Avaline groaned at the humiliation she had suffered. Couldn’t her father hear with his own ears that she wasn’t good enough to hold entire salons captive? He blamed her for her lack of talent and had once accused her of intentionally singing poorly only to vex him. What on earth would possess her to humiliate herself before others merely to annoy her father?

      Avaline rolled onto her side and stared at the window, left open to admit a cool breeze. She couldn’t see beyond it, but she imagined she could hear the sea from here. It was probably only a night breeze rustling the treetops, but she wanted to imagine the sea.

      She thought about running away. She thought about stowing aboard Captain Mackenzie’s ship. She pictured him now, with his kind smile, his hair so prettily streaked by endless days on the vast sea. He was so completely appealing! One night, as they sailed up the coast to the Highlands, Avaline had been too restless and too warm in the cabin she’d shared with Bernadette, and had waited until Bernadette was asleep before venturing onto the deck.

      She’d been gazing up at the stars, so brilliant that they felt within reach. The captain had been surprised to stumble upon her there. “You must be cold, aye?” he asked in that lilting voice of his, and shrugged out of his coat and draped it around her shoulders. Then he pointed out some of the stars to her—Orion, Sirius and Polaris. He told her he’d been sailing since he was a “wee lad” and once he’d begun, he’d never left the sea. “Aye, I love it as if it was a bairn,” he’d said. “It changes every day.”

      Avaline wanted to be somewhere that changed every day. She wanted to talk about stars and clouds and sea swells. She wanted to love something so fiercely that she couldn’t leave it. She wanted to look into the captain’s clear blue eyes and see him smile, and never, ever, think of his awful, wretched brother again.

      She rolled onto her back and wondered what Captain Mackenzie would do if he found an English woman hiding on his ship. Perhaps even in his cabin, as no one would think to look for her there. Would he return her to father? Or would he take her in his arms and kiss her and promise her a life of adventure? Wouldn’t that be very romantic?

      Why couldn’t it have been him, the man who knew the names of stars and always had a smile for her? Why was it his awful brother? Why, God, why?

      Avaline wished she could confess her true feelings to Bernadette about Captain Mackenzie, but that was impossible—Bernadette would force her to forget Captain Mackenzie. She would dog Avaline, and she would know when Avaline was thinking of him. Bernadette always seemed to recognize what Avaline would do before Avaline realized it herself.

      She sighed wearily, feeling quite heavy of heart for her seventeen years. She could feel sleep creeping into her body, pushing her down into unconsciousness, and as she drifted away, she imagined sneaking onboard the Mackenzie ship, imagined what the captain’s private quarters must look like, and how comforting it would be to have all his things around her. She imagined the moment Captain Mackenzie entered the quarters and found her there...