Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

E liza watched as Captain Blackwood effortlessly moved driftwood that had been too heavy for her to move. He piled it up next to her growing mound that was taking a peculiar shape. In a short time, the rest of her work was done—more efficiently than she could have done on her own. Some of those pieces she'd not been able to lift.

"It appears your beach is now free of the distasteful driftwood," he said, giving her a lopsided smile that seemed to look even more lopsided with the scar running along his jaw.

"Thank you for your help, Captain. I had not expected to have such a feat accomplished for weeks."

He raised an eyebrow. "Surely, you did not expect to move those big pieces alone? "

She shrugged. "I had thought about securing a rope to it, and dragging it along."

He shook his head. "You are quite stubborn, are you not, Miss Montrose?"

"I prefer to think of it as independent, Captain, not stubborn."

He laughed, the sound filling her insides like liquid chocolate. "Miss Montrose, I find you surprising."

"A moment ago you called me stubborn."

"And perhaps I rest my case."

She laughed. "I appreciate the help. It feels much improved."

He looked up and down the beach. "Not a rock or shell out of place. It seems to be exactly cultivated to your taste."

She smiled broadly. "It does, doesn't it?"

"You know it will not stay this way though. The next storm will bring in more debris. Your efforts will be wasted."

"Life requires maintenance. It is part of the daily tasks that must be done. I do not think it a waste of my efforts to eat, merely because hours later I will be hungry again."

"Touché, Miss Montrose. I had not thought about life in quite that way."

"One cannot assume that things will stay the same, unless care is given. I can see that plainly in my garden. Just because it looks well one minute, does not mean it will stay that way in the next. It requires work. This beach will no doubt be the same. It will need some upkeep to make sure that it looks like this."

"You seem to make the most of your circumstances," he said quietly.

She sensed in his words a hidden layer of thought, but she pushed past it. She did not need to tell him just how much she'd had to push past the circumstances of her life. Besides, she had a feeling that the weight that the Captain carried with him was much heavier than anything she'd had to deal with in her life. "One thing I have learned is that we cannot always choose what happens to us or the circumstances of our lives, but we can change how we look at them. It may not seem like much, but even a run-down cottage with a beach full of driftwood can become a beautiful place of peace if one spends the time to make it so."

"You've clearly done a wonderful job with what you have," he said, looking back toward her cottage.

"Thank you."

"I can see plainly from here that mine still looks the eyesore compared to yours. No wonder you were in a hurry to fix up the offending bushes," he said in a teasing tone.

She smiled, enjoying this side of Captain Blackwood that was a little more jovial than when she'd first met him in his garden. "It was rather impertinent of me to overstep as I did." She could see it from his point of view. Who was she to say what his garden needed or didn't? Not her, by any account. Yet she'd gotten into her head that everyone would want to improve their estate by virtue of just having land, but that was clearly not the case or the priority for everyone.

"I'm glad you did," Captain Blackwood stated.

She was altogether confused by his statement. "I cannot see how you could be glad about such a thing."

Lines formed on his brow, as if he were concentrating hard. Finally, he said, "I only meant that you've alerted me to a weakness that needs to be addressed. Sometimes we cannot see what is so plain to everyone else until someone points it out to us."

"You did not know that your grounds were in a state of ruin?" She laughed at the absurdity.

He joined in with her laughter. "Of course I noticed it. But I had not considered it to be a matter of great importance. Especially when so many other things have pushed their way to matter more." His eyes widened. "It's not a comparison, of course. I only mean I have been preoccupied with other things."

She nodded, not taking offense at his words. Would he tell her more if she asked him directly? He seemed to be a man who preferred directness; and yet, she found herself hesitant to ask for details, though curiosity started to grow inside her. "I imagine that would be the sentiment of someone who has been so long at war."

His gaze drifted away from her face and towards the sea. "You speak truth. "

"And yet, I have no idea what I speak of."

He gave her a small smile, but a haunting look still filled his eyes. "You are lucky to be spared such knowledge. The weight of it is a burden."

She bit her lip, staring at the man who'd almost opened up to her. But how silly of her to expect such a thing. Her neighbor was not a middle-aged woman who wanted to gossip and wax eloquent about her past. No, he was a haunted man with secrets and unseen wounds. At least those were her present guesses. She didn't know what to say, so she said, "Thank you for carrying the weight. I'm sure all of England is indebted to all the soldiers who carry on so bravely, even after the War."

He gave her a small nod, the scar on his jaw moving as muscles tensed in his neck. She was fascinated by it, by him.

She took a step back. What was she thinking? She was not a debutante trying to win a man's favor at a ball. She swallowed. "I should return to my garden. I have much to still accomplish today." She turned to go, her cheeks filling with heat.

"I shall walk you back," he said, coming to her side and holding out his arm as if they were walking into an elaborate dinner.

"Oh, I—"

"I insist," he said.

She took his arm, feeling his corded muscles beneath her hand. She forced herself to think of something else. Anything else. She focused on the way her half boots sunk into the wet sand, and how the steep slope to walk back to her property was infinitely easier when she was next to him. She chided herself for thinking of the Captain and how much she enjoyed being on his arm. What a ridiculous notion. He was only helping her back to her garden, a short distance away. He was being a gentleman and neighborly. There was nothing to think too much about.

He led her directly to her gate, holding it open for her as she picked up her skirts and walked through.

"Thank you," she said, as her gaze caught his beautiful green eyes—where hints of gray surrounded the edges of his irises. His eyes were like the sea, never one particular color at a particular time, but a mixture.

"Miss Montrose, would you truly be willing to help me with my own garden?" He looked unsure as he asked the question.

Her heart jumped without her permission. She'd love nothing more than to help him with his garden. It was a challenge, and it would also make the border between their grounds beautiful. But it was more than that. The idea of spending more time in his company thrilled her, though she couldn't put her finger on exactly why that would be. He was not a great conversationalist. He was not all smiles or full of compliments and flirting. He was … her neighbor. "I would be happy to, Captain."

"Shall we say tomorrow morning? I should not wish to pull you away from your own garden today." He glanced at what he could see of her garden.

An anticipation filled her at the thought of helping him again. "Thank you, Captain. I shall look forward to helping you tomorrow."

"You have quite the impeccable garden," he said. "Would it be terribly rude of me to ask for a tour of your gardens, just to see what my standard should be, of course."

She smiled. "I would be happy to show you around. You are welcome to come through this way, Captain, and take the shortcut back to your own property." She wasn't sure that he would, but she felt like it was neighborly to offer.

He nodded, surprising her. "Thank you, Miss Montrose. I believe I will do that. But please tell me all about your garden and how you've accomplished so much in such a short amount of time."

"You want to learn all of my secrets so that you can apply them yourself?" she asked. She tapped her chin. "Is that wise in warfare to give away one's secrets?"

He laughed, the sound reverberating in the air. "It is not wise to give away secrets to one's enemies. But you and I are not enemies." His brow creased, as if he were trying to puzzle something out.

She smiled. "Indeed we are not. We are … neighbors."

"And friends, I should hope."

She smiled. "We are, Captain." That was what she wanted. A neighbor. A friend. But she hadn't realized that she'd have a handsome neighbor as a friend. The thought sent tingles through her entire center, racing up and down her arms. He'd only expressed interest in seeing her garden, and he'd spoken a few non-offensive words to her, and she was acting as if she were being pursued. Clearly, the fresh, salty air had scrambled her mind.

They were friends. She was a helpful neighbor who agreed to help Captain Blackwood with his own garden. Wouldn't it be natural for him to ask to see her property? After all, if he were going to entrust her to help him with his own garden, surely, he was the type of man who required proof of one's ability.

"So you will tell me your secrets?" His voice was like the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore at Brighton—powerful, yet calming—stirring something deep within her soul.

"Of my garden? Of course, Captain."

"I shall have to be content with that for the present."

His words almost held a hint of flirtation, except that he sounded sincere. Her cheeks heated at his words, so she turned quickly away. She stepped down the stone path, walking toward the edge of her property that was the farthest from his. It made sense to start there so that she could end her tour where their properties met. And the short walk would hopefully aid her in collecting herself so that she could speak about her garden without her voice trembling in front of the Captain.