Promise of a Family

Drake shrugged. “You can handle a whole crew of cantankerous sailors. Two small boys should not be too great a task for you.”

When he turned to go back to where Lady Susanna was talking in a hushed voice to the remaining children, he wondered if Benton realized that Drake had given him the easier chore. At least his first mate did not have to work alongside a woman who made no secret that she longed to be rid of him.

He wished he could say the feeling was mutual, but she intrigued him. Her hand gently cupped a tear-streaked face as she leaned toward the children. Behind her cool exterior, she had a gentle heart. So why was she revealing that to everyone but him?

* * *

Captain Nesbitt was definitely correct about one thing, Susanna decided. The two toddler girls, who looked to be around two and a half years old, were identical. They must be twins. With their fine black hair and dark green eyes, they would catch every man’s attention once they were grown. Now they were frightened children surrounded by strangers.

Pointing to herself, she said, “I am Susanna.”

The twins looked at each other and at a younger boy who was struggling to stay awake. Before he could tip over, Susanna picked him up and set him on her lap. She touched his forehead, but no hint of fever suggested he might be ill. She must check each child for signs of sickness, though if one was ill, they all probably would soon be. She wondered how long the youngsters had been in the boat. Their faces were red from the sun but not blistered. Either they were accustomed to the sun off the sea or they had been drifted quickly into Porthlowen Harbor after being set afloat.

“I am Susanna,” she repeated to the twins. “Who are you?”

“Wufry,” one of the little girls said.

“Ruthie?” asked Captain Nesbitt as he came to kneel beside Susanna. He held out his hands for the little boy.

Susanna shook her head because he had fallen asleep, and she did not want to disturb him until she must.

“Wufry.” The little girl scowled at Captain Nesbitt. “Wufry!”

In a hushed voice, he said, “The females around here must learn that facial expression early.”

“What?” She looked at him and found he was so close to her that she could not see anything beyond his broad shoulders. As she raised her gaze to his, everyone else on the shore seemed to fade into the distance. Could one disappear into the brown depths of another’s eyes?

Then he grinned. “Her irked frown is just like yours.”

Susanna gasped, knowing she should chide him for his rudeness, but she had been sent to help the children, not to teach Captain Nesbitt proper manners. Heat raced up her face when she recalled how many were watching and might have overheard his whisper. The best course of action would be to collect the children and return to Cothaire posthaste.

“Wufry!” insisted the little girl again.

Lord, Susanna prayed, open my understanding as well as my heart to these children You have brought forth out of the sea. She shuddered when she thought of how easily they could have died before reaching Porthlowen. Let me help them now and please guide me in tending them as carefully as You guided them to safety.

Listening closely to the little girl, she repeated the child’s word over and over in her mind. She smiled and asked to give herself more time to decipher the name, “So your name isn’t Georgie?”

“No.” The child smiled, and the little girl beside her looked at Susanna for the first time. “Wufry.”

“And I guess your name isn’t Aloysius, either.”

Both twins giggled.

When Captain Nesbitt started to speak, Susanna waved him to silence with a curt motion. He scowled but nodded. Good. He could be reasonable.

“Wufry!” said the little girl again.

Hoping her first real guess would be right, Susanna took a deep breath and said, “So your name must be Lucy.”

The little girl grinned, showing gaps in her baby teeth. She flung her arms around Susanna’s neck, tugging her toward the boat. The edge cut painfully into her ribs because she protected the sleeping boy from the splintered wooden side.

“Me Wufry.” The toddler pointed to her sister. “She Mowie.”

“So you are Mollie,” Susanna said after repeating the word in her mind. She smiled at the other twin, who seemed shier than her sister. “Lucy and Mollie. Two very pretty names. Captain, will you assist Miss Lucy and Miss Mollie to the carriage?”

He reached for Lucy. His nose wrinkled as he took her hand and then reached for her sister’s. Both were in need of a change of clean clothes and fresh napkins because the ones they wore were soaked.

Susanna stood, balancing the little boy against her. He stank, too, but she had smelled worse.

Her gaze met Captain Nesbitt’s over the children’s heads. A smile quirked at his lips, and she found herself returning it. Something lit in his eyes, something powerful. She should look away. She could not. She was held by his gaze as surely as if he held her in his arms. A shiver ran through her at that thought. Not an icy shiver, but a heated one.

A small hand tugged at her bodice, and, grateful that she could break the connection between her and Captain Nesbitt, Susanna looked down to see the little boy was awake.

“Gil.” The smallest boy jabbed a finger at his chest.

“You are Gil?” she asked.

He nodded and ordered, “Down!”

“As you wish.” She set him on the ground. When she straightened, she saw the playful twinkle in Captain Nesbitt’s eyes. No doubt he recognized Gil’s tone because it sounded much like his arrogant one.

Why was she letting the ship’s captain slip into her thoughts so often? Her focus should be on the children and discovering why they had been floating in a jolly boat in Porthlowen Harbor.

As if she had made that last thought a request, Gil took off running faster than she could imagine such short legs could move. She gave chase, but slowed when the little boy stopped beside the man who was feeding the swaddled baby.

Gil tapped the blanket and said with pride, “My baby.”

Susanna glanced back at Captain Nesbitt. She was not surprised that he was watching intently. He had been honest when he said, because he had saved them, he considered these children his duty.

When he motioned for her to take the lead, probably because he had trouble understanding the childish talk, she asked, “Does your baby have a name, Gil?”

“My baby. My—”

A shriek silenced everyone, and she saw the two older boys swinging at each other. The man trying to keep them apart was not succeeding, because one boy ran in and slapped the other before the man could halt him.

“Captain...” she began.

He pushed past her, shoving the twins’ hands into hers. Scooping up the blond boy, he draped him over one shoulder. Then he grabbed the dark-haired boy and balanced him on his opposite hip. They wriggled but halted when he barked a sharp order.

Susanna laughed. She could not stop herself. The two boys were frozen in shock, and Captain Nesbitt looked a bit green about the gills with one of the boys’ rear ends close to his nose.

“My baby!” Gil cried, patting the baby’s swaddling.

The baby screamed again.

He pulled back in horror. “My baby!”

Susanna gave him a swift smile. Babies cried, but not usually with such intensity. At least not when she held one during church services.