Wings of the Morning (Kensington Chronicles) (3 page)

t, here comes my husband. Tate," she spoke when he

Ibeside her, "this is Victoria Simmons. Victoria, this is

"""*. "Rite Pembenon." Hp meet you, Victoria."

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"Thank you. It's nice to meet you also." Victoria couldn't

have been more sincere, but she was suddenly out of words as

she stood before this tall, striking couple. Amoment of silence

fell until another couple approached, and Victoria found herself

just outside their circle. After watching a minute with

some regret as the other four visited with careless ease, she

turned and walked away. It was going to take more than two

hours to get home on the stagecoach, and she knew she had

best get going.

She was a block away from the church when she heard a

man calling her name. She didn't know anyone in this part of

Kennebunk, so for a moment or two she ignored him. The

voice was insistent, however, and Victoria finally turned Tate

Pemberton was rushing up the street, a look of profound relief

covering his face.

"Jennifer nearly panicked when she couldn't find you. She

thought we'd lost you for good We have our carriage. May we

offer you a ride home?"

"Thank you, Tate," she told him sincerely, thinking this

was the nicest gesture she'd experienced in a long time. "And

please thank Jennifer for me, but I live on the other side of

Kennebunk, nearly to Kennebunkport, and I'm sure that's out

of your way. I'm going to take the stage."

"We live in Kennebunkport, so your home must be right on

the way," Tate told her with surprised pleasure as he took her

arm and began to lead her back up the street. Tate asked her

exactly where she lived, and when Victoria explained, Tate

nodded decisively.

From down the street Victoria spotted Jennifer standing

outside the church, looking anxiously in their direction. Even

from a distance, Victoria could see her smile as they neared

"I thought we'd lost you, and we had so little time to get acquainted,"

Jennifer told her sincerely, still wondering what it

was about Victoria Simmons that attracted her.

"I appreciate your offer, but are you sure it's not a bother? I

came on the stage, and it's really no trouble."

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"You're right on our way," Tare supplied as the coach

appeared. He ushered the ladies inside. Within moments they

were headed down the road toward home, the women sharing

one side of the coach and Tate across from them.

"I really appreciate this, Jennifer," Victoria began, but the

other woman cut her off.

"Please call me Jen or Jenny. All my friends do. We're glad

to give you a lift. The stage can be so crowded and stuffy."

Victoria smiled at her, and Jenny was again amazed by the

change in her. Jenny would have been surprised to learn that

Victoria smiled because, compared to some of the cabins she

had occupied in her life, the stage felt huge.

"Jen tells me you're in shipping," Tate mentioned at that

moment.

"Yes, I am. It's not a large business, but we're never without

work."

"How many ships do you own, Victoria?"

'Just one," she told him.

"I might know your captain," Tate leaned forward slightly,

frank interest covering his handsome face. "What's his name?"

"Do you always go by your full name?" Jenny asked, choosing

that moment to interrupt her husband "Or do your friends

call you Vicky?"

"Actually," Victoria turned to Jenny, since Tate didn't look

at all upset over the interruption, "my nickname is Smokey."

"Smokey?" Jenny was surprised.

"It's her smokey gray eyes, Jen," Tate said with satisfaction.

"That's right," the smaller woman told him with a smile.

"That, along with the fact that when I was a baby, my father

used to say I would get so angry he thought smoke might come

from my ears."

The Pembertons enjoyed this, laughing at the vision. The

conversation moved to many avenues in the next two hours,

and with only one brief stop, Smokey was home a little ahead

of the stage. She thanked the Pembertons for the ride and

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made her way into the house, a rambling, somewhat ramshackle

two-story that had been home since her father died.

Smokey lived with her first mate, Darsey, and his widowed

sister, Willa, who were both still up and settled in the small

parlor when she came in. Smokey took a chair by the open

window, and they looked at her expectantly.

"How was the wedding?" Willa wanted to know.

"It was nice."

"It didn't give you any ideas, did it?" Willa's look was

hopeful.

Smokey laughed. "What was I supposed to do, grab the

first man I saw and make it a double ceremony?"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," Willa told her

with a stern look that could not mask the fact that she wanted

to laugh at Smokey's words.

"Who brought you home?" Darsey questioned her.

"The Pembertons. They live just beyond Little Fishing

Rock, and when we met after the wedding, they offered me a

ride."

"Old Saul Pemberton? I thought he passed away more than

a year ago." Darsey frowned in thought.

"It wasn't Saul, but his son, Tate, and Tate's wife, Jenny.

Jenny's maiden name was Knight." Smokey fell silent for a

moment.

"You should have seen her dress," she said almost dreamly.

"The bride's?" Willa assumed, hoping the wedding had

started Smokey thinking about having a family after all.

"No," Smokey's voice was still soft. "Jen Pemberton's. It

was beautiful. Makes me wish I had taken your advice, Willa,

and gotten myself some new clothes."

"Well," the older woman said almost indignantly. "There's

nothing stopping you from getting some now."

"Yes, there is," Smokey replied matter-of-factly. She stood

and stretched, hiding an expansive yawn behind her hand.

"We sail for Wales in two days. What would I do with a fancy

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dress aboard ship? Goodnight, Willa." Smokey kissed the

older woman's cheek and then moved toward Darsey.

"Goodnight, Dars," she said after she'd kissed him also.

"Sleep well, lass," he told her and watched her lovingly as

she left the room.

Willa waited only until she heard the floorboards creaking

upstairs before she lit into her brother.

"Honestly, Darsey, you've got more pull with that girl than

anyone! You could have said something--put in a word or

two!"

"About what?" the man asked in genuine confusion.

"Her clothes!"

"What *s wrong with her clothes?" Darsey frowned in puzzlement.

"She's always clean and well pressed"

Willa snorted in disgust. "I'm not talking about that*/wear

clothes that are more stylish than hers. Most of her clothes

look like widow's weeds. It's not as if she can't afford something

new." Willa's emotions were high, but Darsey was calmly

logical.

"Be that as it may," he told her, "it's just like Smokey said

What would she do with a bunch of frills on board ship?"

"Well, she's not going to sail forever," Willa said petulantly

and rocked a little harder in her chair, all the while frowning

in her brother's direction.

Darsey, who had entertained this thought on more than

one occasion, suddenly had nothing more to say.

It was growing dark so Tate and Jenny had decided not to

rry at Smokey's small house in the country. Still, she was the

^^r^v1Cu ?nversation as they continued their ride home.

jgatshe the sweetest thing, Tate?"

^^d she is," he answered as he moved across the

|next to his wife. "There's something fascinating

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about her. She's such a mixture of confidence and vulnerability."

"I was surprised at her age when she first told us, but then

as I watched her, I saw that she certainly isn't a child"

"Well, 25 isn't what you'd call old."

"No, but when we were at the wedding, I'd have said she

was closer to my 20. Then as we talked, I realized she has

almost a worldly look about her. Not worldly really," Jenny

immediately contradicted herself. "But her eyes seem older

than the rest of her, if you know what I mean."

Tate silently digested this. "You know," he said finally, "we

did an awful lot of talking, and other than finding out that she

shares our faith in Christ, we really didn't learn much about

her."

"Do you suppose that was deliberate on her part?"

"No, I think she genuinely liked us, but I just get the

impression that she hasn't many friends." Oh,

Tate!" Jenny was struck with what she considered a

wonderful idea. "Go back in a few days and invite her to come

for a visit. I know we would have such fun, and something tells

me she would love staying in a house that was right on the sea.

It would be such a change for her after living inland"

Tate agreed wholeheartedly, and in three days' time the

coach took him back to Smokey's house. Smokey wasn't there,

however; the door was answered by a woman. Tate assumed

her to be the woman named Willa, about whom Smokey had

spoken.

Willa told Tate that Smokey was away and wasn't expected

back for quite some time. Jennifer, he knew, would be very

disappointed

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morocco

one month later

"You don't have to say it, YusuF. I can tell by the look on

your face that Smoke has been here. Is the whole load gone?"

"I am sorry, Captain, yes," the old man's grin belied his

words. His smile was infectious, however, and Captain Dallas

Knight grinned grudgingly in return.

"How does he do it?"

Yusuf's grin widened to rival the size of his thick waist.

"The ship," he said, and Dallas' eyes narrowed in thought. "I

am not saying Smoke is not good captain. But the ship is fast.

Maybe even fastest." The captain nodded, catching the other

man's meaning, even amid the broken English.

Dallas had gotten word concerning a load of tea in Tangier.

Since he had been in Spain, he'd set sail almost immediately,

but as usual, a ship called the Aramis, and a captain

known only as Smoke, beat him to it. It was a continuation of

the familiar pattern of the last two years, but that was no

comfort. His business was suffering as a result.

Dallas appeared to study the toe of his boot, his mind

miles away. You wouldn'/ think that in an ocean the size of the

Atlantic, one ship could cause me such trouble.

R was all too true. To Dallas it seemed that the Aramis, or

lather her captain, had no rules. The ship did not seem to be

governed by time or wind The Zephyr, Dallas' ship, had been

on the losing end of the expertise of the Aramis' captain on

many occasions. It never seemed to fail--if word aired that

merchandise of great value was up for grabs, the captain and