Tender Wings of Desire Read online

  As she rode, she could detect a certain change in the air as she drew closer to the sea. The air had a salty tang that she could taste on her tongue, and she could almost hear the crashing of the waves despite the fact that she was most likely miles away still. She allowed her mind to drift to the plan she should have made long before she decided to run away.

  Should she escape to the Continent? At the inn, she had counted what money she had left and knew it wasn’t enough to afford passage to France—or anywhere, for that matter—plus food until she figured out her next steps. Madeline knew that she wanted to travel sometime in the future, but she had to be smart about it. She had to land on her own two feet first.

  The answer was simple: she would find a town, any town, and find a place to work there. The idea of actually working, earning the money that would help her live, was tremendously exciting for her. It was a destiny far from being a duchess, but it felt right.

  The sun was high over her head when she and Persephone arrived at the sea. Well, more accurately, they arrived at a cliff overlooking the sea, and the cliff had a drop that was dizzyingly high. She stood at the edge of the cliff, or as close to the edge as she dared, and watched the waves crash on the rocks below. It did not take long before it began to scare her a bit, and she took a quick step back to give herself a little more distance.

  There was something magical about the sea. As she stood and looked out at all of it, whatever doubts she had had about her life and about her choice felt as if they would melt away. Would she have ever seen such a sight if she had married Reginald?

  Reginald. Of course, now her thoughts turned to Reginald. He had been left at the altar two days ago. She did feel a measure of regret for hurting the poor man. Reginald may not have been the man she was going to marry, but he definitely did not deserve such heartbreak.

  Although, was it actually heartbreak? How could Reginald’s heart possibly be broken when they barely had occasion to speak? Love could not have blossomed in such a short period of time; that is not how love worked.

  Of course, how could Madeline know how love worked? She had never been in love, she was much too practical for that. Victoria had always been the one who dreamt about the concept of love at first sight, basically ever since she first learned that such a thing existed. Madeline had always been the cautious one.

  Well, cautious in matters of the heart, anyway. Victoria never would have dreamed of running away as Madeline had. She relied too heavily on the world of servants and fancy dinners. Madeline could have lived in that world, maybe she could have even found happiness, but she also would have spent a large portion of her life wondering what else was out there. What if other ways of living could have made her happy? Happier, even?

  She would just have to find out, but to begin she would have to take that first step.

  Madeline backed away from the cliff edge and turned back to Persephone, who was peacefully grazing on the grass nearby. She walked over to the mare and gently patted her on the neck. Persephone whickered softly with affection, and Madeline surveyed the land.

  The cliffs seemed to disappear down the road, the sea drawing closer to the land and creating a harbor where a little town was nestled, several miles away, by Madeline’s eye, but close enough that she could probably be there by late afternoon. From where she was standing, the little seaside town looked a bit rundown, but it was as good a place as any for Madeline to start over.

  She swiftly mounted Persephone and steered her in the direction of the town, trotting toward what could very well be her destiny.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  From a distance, the town looked shabby, but the closer Madeline got, the more charming the sleepy hamlet became. It was a crowded place. Every home and store was built as close to the water as possible, giving it a quaint, crooked look, as if it were a drawing in a children’s book. This made it more endearing than ramshackle. The buildings were crowded together and seemed to spill out near the docks of the harbor, where several fishing boats bobbed up and down like toys.

  The cobblestones were a little uneven, so Madeline dismounted in order to better guide Persephone through the streets. No one gave her a second glance as she walked, for once melting into the background. Here she wasn’t the eldest daughter of Lord Parker; she was just a traveling woman looking for an opportunity or two. She walked down the street that separated most of the town from the docks of the harbor and kept an eye out for any opportunity. Her eyes rested on a boat or two, though she knew that wasn’t possible given the fact that she had absolutely no idea what to do on a boat.

  When she did find her future, it did not hit her like a lightning bolt or some sort of glorious, inspired wave. Instead she merely looked up and saw it.

  It was a tavern, clearly one that catered to the sailors who came into the harbor. It was small, with a rickety wooden sign that had an anchor etched into it along with the tavern’s name: The Admiral’s Arms. Madeline had never been inside of a tavern, but as she looked up at the place she figured that there was a first time for everything. This direction felt right to her.

  After tying Persephone to the post outside, Madeline threw back the hood of her traveling cloak and entered the tavern with a pounding heart.

  It was a dim place, lit only by the occasional lantern or two, with wooden tables and a fireplace that was currently bare. The long bar was the center of the space and was empty except for the person standing behind it. She had to be the most beautiful woman Madeline had ever seen, with bright red hair and dark eyes that looked at Madeline warily.

  “Is everything alright?” the woman asked with a musical voice, speaking in an accent that Madeline did not recognize. She threw the towel she had been using to clean the bar over her shoulder and fixed Madeline with a stare that was more concerned than guarded. For some reason the gentleness of the woman’s look touched Madeline in a way that surprised her.

  How messy she must look, dirty from traveling while the salt air did interesting things to her curls. Suddenly Madeline felt so unsure of herself, like she did not belong. The woman waited patiently for Madeline to gather the nerve to speak.

  “I was looking for a job,” Madeline said. This clearly came as a surprise to the woman.

  “Really now?” Madeline realized that the accent clearly wasn’t some mystical form of British, but she still hadn’t narrowed it down from that. Perhaps it was Irish or Scottish? She had never heard an Irish voice, but her nanny had been Scottish.

  “Yes.” Madeline gave another look around and realized that this was exactly where she wanted to be.

  The woman looked around as well, as if following Madeline’s look, which gave Madeline a nervous feeling.

  “I cannot do the hiring,” the woman said. “But I need help at nights, and Carson—he’s the owner—is never one to actually do the helping and he’s always too lazy to take on anyone new. Why don’t you stay and help me tonight, and then we can convince him? If you are here and willing, there’s no way he’ll say no.”

  Madeline had not been expecting this response, and it took her a moment to sink in. The woman smiled with kindness.

  “Really?” Madeline finally said. “I do not know what to say.”

  “Sure,” the woman replied. “All you have to do is tell me your name. I figure that is a start.”

  Madeline blushed. “It is Madeline.”

  The woman nodded. “The name’s Caoimhe, and please do not ask me to spell it because it is nothing like it sounds.”

  “It is not K-E-E-V-A?” Madeline asked, already feeling the grin come to her face. Caoimhe rooted under the bar and pulled out a white linen apron, passing it to Madeline.

  “Not even close. Now put that on and act like you work here. Carson will be none the wiser. And welcome to town.”

  “I do not even know what it is called,” Madeline confessed. Caoimhe laughed.

  “Mistle-Thrush-by-the-Sea,” she replied. “It is a mouthful but has a bit of a romantic flair to it, do yo
u not think?”

  Madeline did not know about the romance, but she did know that she could easily grow to love this town.

  Madeline turned out to be a quick study in the ways of bartending, mostly because it was an incredibly simple thing to do once someone got their mind wrapped around it properly. Caoimhe’s method of teaching was relatively no-nonsense; she relied heavily on treating the student as though she already knew what was being asked of her, and Madeline would fake her way through it, surprised at how easily she could pick it up.

  Of course, it was simple enough: wipe down tables, pull drinks for whoever asked for them. After six o’clock, a cook would come in and put together some dinner fare, “Nothing too special,” Caoimhe said with a wave of her hand and a sniff that implied she could do better.

  Once Madeline learned the basics, she then learned a little bit about Caoimhe. She was Irish (which Madeline should have guessed), and had come to England a few years ago for a change of pace.

  “I do not think it is as much of a change of pace as I would have liked,” Caoimhe admitted. “But I do like the view.”

  The view was indeed spectacular, and the tavern exploited it for all that it was worth by installing giant windows that showed a view of the harbor and the sea beyond. Madeline stopped now and again to take in the view but quickly returned to work, fearful that Carson would see her and find her wanting.

  “Do not be afraid of the crowds when they come in,” Caoimhe said once she caught sight of the ships on the horizon. “They are not the scoundrels they all think they are.”

  It hadn’t occurred to Madeline to be afraid of the sailors, but now that Caoimhe said something, it was all she could think about for the rest of the afternoon.

  There were certain things that occurred to Madeline that, because of her privileged upbringing, she simply did not know. Caoimhe’s eyes had widened in surprise and a little concern when Madeline told her a slightly edited version of her story. Of course, she left out the part where she was a lady marrying a duke and instead just told the basics of her journey. Caoimhe seemed scandalized.

  “All by yourself?” she asked with wide eyes. “With no protection?”

  Madeline almost asked what protection she could possibly need—she had a horse and could ride like the wind. What else was there? But the look on Caoimhe’s face suggested that there were certain truths that she might not want to know.

  Then the shadows began to grow long on the ground; the ships started to come in and so did the sailors. They were a rambunctious bunch, but Madeline wasn’t as scared of them as she thought she would be. Caoimhe admitted that these were merely fishermen who went out to sea during the day and returned home to their wives at night. They certainly smelled like it to Madeline, like salt and fish, but she found that she did not hate it. They were polite, removed their hats, and asked polite questions about the “new worker.” Caoimhe had a terrific rapport with most of them, pouring their tankards of ale and joking with them. Madeline desperately wanted to have that easy rapport, but she knew that it would take time. Hopefully time was what she had.

  Carson arrived at half past six and turned out to be completely different from what Madeline had been expecting. She had pictured him as some grizzled old man, perhaps a former sailor with tattooed forearms and a perpetual grumpy expression on his face. While some of that was true (he did seem perpetually grumpy), he was actually much younger than she had anticipated. She wasn’t sure, but he might have been any age between her Winston and her father, with brown hair already touched with gray. He walked in, greeted some of the regulars, glanced at Madeline, and moved to the till to see how much they had made for that evening before stopping to send a confused look Madeline’s way.

  “Caoimhe,” he said slowly. “You look different.”

  “Do not try to be funny, Carson,” Caoimhe said, coming out from the back where she had been checking on things with the cook. “It does not become you.”

  Carson scowled at her, but even Madeline could see that there wasn’t any malice in it.

  “Then would you care to explain?” he asked her. Caoimhe wiped down the bar and pulled a tankard of ale for a customer who had just arrived.

  “I need help around here, Carson. I’ve been telling you that for how long? And like some angel from heaven, this woman comes out of nowhere looking for employment. I did not dare say no to such a wretched creature.”

  Carson turned to look at her, taking in her relatively well-made dress, simple though it was, and glancing at her hands, which, in spite of working all afternoon, still had the softness of someone who had never worked a day in her life. Madeline gave him her most winning smile, and he sighed.

  “You have a place to live?” he asked her. For some reason this question took her off guard.

  “Um.”

  “That is a no. Listen, dearie. I do not know where you’ve come from or why. I do not know what you are really doing here, or even if there’s an answer for that, but you smell like money even if you do not know it, and I really hope you will not be bringing trouble to my door.”

  “I do not plan to,” Madeline said, still a little dazed at how easily she had been figured out. Carson studied her face again and seemed to like what he found, because he nodded and turned to Caoimhe.

  “I trust you on this one, but do you mind if she shares the rooms upstairs with you?”

  Caoimhe nodded. “I figured you’d ask me to do that, so I did not have much of a choice.”

  “Cheeky girl.”

  And that was that. Carson went into the back to see how the cook was handling the stew he was making for that evening, and Caoimhe smiled in triumph.

  “See? I knew he would not argue once I got you here, it is not his way. Welcome to The Admiral’s Arms, Madeline! I hope you have many happy days here.”

  With that Caoimhe walked away to see to a customer, and Madeline was left to process the fact that she had successfully found a job and her immediate concerns had been solved. For the first time since she had left her parents’ manor in the dead of night, Madeline felt herself smiling in a way that was completely hopeful.

  “Well, well, well, what have we here? Did Caoimhe finally convince Carson to hire a new worker?”

  Madeline turned to answer the man, not quite caring for his tone, only to come face to face with the most handsome man she had ever seen.

  CHAPTER SIX

  He was tall, dressed like a sailor with a striped linen shirt and woolen peacoat crusted with sea salt. His hair was light and fair, framing his head in airy curls, and the eyes that stared back at her were almost the exact color of the sea, perhaps darker, but not by much, and they hid behind glasses with dark frames. Madeline had never seen a sailor wear glasses before; somehow it made him seem all the more handsome. He leaned on the bar, his eyes looking into hers and liking what he saw. This wasn’t like when Carson had appraised her; this was different. And for a moment she felt hot and cold at the same time.

  “Um,” Madeline said. He smiled at her.

  “The name’s Harland. What’s yours?” His accent was one she had never heard before, sounding like a soft version of an American accent.

  “Madeline.”

  “That is a beautiful name, Madeline,” he said. “You must be new here.”

  Her mouth went dry as she tried desperately to figure out why this conversation was still happening. It was strange; it was not as though the other customers hadn’t questioned her about her arrival. This felt different though; this made her scramble for the proper words to say, something that would make her sound charming or clever, something that would make him want to speak to her more.

  She did not realize that all of her thinking and obsessing had been happening in real time, so she was mostly staring at him as she panicked, watching his face grow more and more amused as she struggled to find words that were charming enough. Finally, she just gave up.

  “Yes,” she replied. “I am new here.”

  “Well, y
ou are certainly a breath of fresh air!”

  Hewas the most handsome person she had ever seen; even his beard made him look more manly than unkempt.

  “I’ve never seen a sailor who wore glasses before,” she said suddenly. He grinned.

  “Neither have I. Then again, I don’t often look in the mirror,” he replied.

  She felt her cheeks blush a flame red, and she retreated to the kitchen to stop them from blushing further.

  In the kitchen she saw the cook, a scrawny boy who barely looked old enough to shave let alone run a kitchen. He looked up from the pot of stew he was stirring. Upon seeing Madeline, he immediately started blushing.

  “Sorry, ma’am,” he said uselessly. Madeline opened her mouth, closed it again, and turned to leave the kitchen.

  “Everything alright?” Caoimhe asked as Madeline grabbed a towel and began to focus intently on wiping up a small spill of ale.

  “Nothing,” Madeline replied absently, not even realizing that she hadn’t answered the question properly. Her mind was still full of his smile, those eyes. What was wrong with her? She barely knew who he was and there she stood, acting like a silly schoolgirl. She managed a glance at him, only to realize that he had been looking at her as well. She gave a little sigh.

  Caoimhe followed her line of sight and chuckled.

  “I see you’ve met Harland.”

  Harland. Yes. That is what his name had been.

  “Yes,” Madeline said, all timid and horrible. She barely sounded like herself at this point. What was wrong with her?

  “Harland’s a regular, goes out on the boats with the other sailors, but I think he’s the only one who’s really doing it for fun.”