Billy looked at him, a grin splitting his homely face. "She did it! She went to the other shareholders and persuaded them to buy out Jimmy. He'd gotten into debt, made a few bad deals, and she had them demand a marker there, whisper a word here, and hey, presto! Jimmy's out of the Grotto. It belongs to us now—the girls and the guards."
"And to Coral as well, I presume," Isaac said quietly.
Billy shook his big head slowly, sobering a bit. "She sold out."
Isaac felt ice enter his chest. "What do you mean?"
"She's gone."
Even as he heard the words, Isaac was running from the salon, making for the stairs. But as he took them two at a time he knew already.
Coral had left him.
Chapter 11
A muscle twitched in the Ice Princess' cheek and a very small piece of ice chipped off.
The soldier raised his eyebrow and asked, "What is the last thing?"
"The heart of a good man," she whispered.
"Ah, that is the easiest of all," the soldier replied softly. He leaned forward and placed his mouth against the Ice Princess' cold, cold lips.
And then a very strange thing happened. For instead of the soldier freezing, the Ice Princess thawed. Hot tears spilled from her eyes, melting the ice that covered her face. . . .
--from The Ice Princess
The wind caught her skirts and swept them against her legs. Coral pushed back a lock of hair flying against her cheek. Out beyond the cliffs the iron-grey sea was pushing whitecaps toward the shore and the heavy, damp air tasted of salt. She'd never lived by the sea, had been born and bred in the heart of London, but somehow it had seemed right when she'd left the Grotto to come settle here.
She half-turned and looked back along the worn narrow trail by the cliffs. Her cottage was on the horizon, a small white dot. It was a tidy little house with four rooms and a garden and it was all hers. With the money she'd saved from the Grotto she should be able to live the rest of her days comfortably if not extravagantly. She'd hired a woman from the village to come in twice a week to clean and cook. Perhaps she'd even learn to garden. Coral imagined herself in a wide-brimmed hat and an old apron, cutting some type of flower-perhaps daisies. She'd bring the flowers into her kitchen and place them in a blue glass vase. Billy and the girls and boys at the Grotto would laugh if they saw her in such a domestic picture.
Coral wrinkled her nose. The cottage, her peaceful life by the sea, even the garden she had no understanding of, were perfect. Were everything she'd worked her entire life for: independence and freedom. And yet.and yet her life here was so lonely.
So very lonely.
Coral faced forward again, walking beside the cliffs as she did everyday. Maudlin regrets were simply silly. Her sister, Pearl, would've been quite pleased to have Coral come live with her and her husband, but it hadn't seemed right somehow. Pearl was so happy now, so very settled into domestic bliss, that Coral would've felt like a third wheel: unnecessary and awkward. So she'd come here, to live beside the sea. If she were honest with herself, she'd hoped, deep down inside, that Isaac would follow her. Oh, she knew the wish was impossible--she'd left no note, no direction, no way for him to figure out where she'd gone, even if he'd wished to follow her, but the hope had been there nonetheless.
Or it had been.
Coral kicked a small pebble rather viciously and it went careening off the cliff. She'd held out hope for week after week, but now it had been six months and hope had died. He was at sea again by now, or--wretched thought!--had found some other lady to court.
For he'd courted her--she acknowledged that now. He'd wooed her and made love to her, and in the end she'd fallen--hopelessly and helplessly--in love with Captain Isaac Wargate. A sob lodged in her chest and Coral stopped, gazing sightlessly out toward the gray sea. She loved Isaac. After a life lived as a whore, after never feeling the slightest emotion for any man, she'd fallen in love. A tear slipped down her cold cheek. Oh, how the gods must be laughing! She'd never see him again, would live out the rest of her dreary life here by the sea simply because it reminded her of him.
Coral sighed, fished a tattered handkerchief from her sleeve, and wiped her face. How very stupid to stand here weeping in the wind. It must be almost luncheon time and whatever stew the woman from the village had made would not taste better cold. Best to start back. She turned, watching her footing for the path was rather rocky, and when she at last looked up she thought at first that she was imagining it.
She blinked, but the sight was still there.
A man, small in the distance, but growing larger at a rapid pace. He strode over the gorse, his steps firm and long, and even from here she could tell that he wore a naval uniform.
Coral's heart began to beat like a wild thing trying to fly. A long black cape blew against his legs and his shoulders were set with determination. He must've seen her, but his stride didn't break and his expression didn't change. He was grim, like a man going to war, his wide mouth straight, his cheeks like granite, his black eyes dour beneath lowered brows.
She had an instinctive animal urge to flee before his grim advance, but it was too late now. He was upon her.
She lifted her chin and opened her mouth--to cry for joy or to offer explanation, she did not know and it didn't matter anyway.
He seized her shoulders and kissed her.
Chapter 12
And as the ice covering the Ice Princess melted, the frozen statues thawed as well, until hundreds of living, breathing men stood where once there had only been frozen bodies.
The men gave a great cry and each and every one of them started the journey back to their own homes. Soon only the Ice Princess and the soldier remained. Hot tears continued to drip down the Ice Princess’ pink cheeks, falling into the hands she held in her lap.
The soldier looked at her and asked, “Why do you weep, sweetheart?”
The Ice Princess drew a heavy breath. “You’ve freed all my ice men and soon you’ll leave as well. Then I shall truly be alone.” . . . .
--from The Ice Princess
This. This was exactly what he wanted.
Isaac wrapped Coral in his arms and kissed her with all his soul. He’d spent the last six months wondering if he’d ever see her again—if he’d ever find her again—and now at last he had her. Something quieted in his chest. The hawk beating its wings against his ribcage all this time settled and closed its eyes. Finally. Finally he’d found her.
Not that his ire was altogether appeased.
Her lips trembled beneath his and she parted them with gratifying speed. He took her offer and plundered her mouth, making sure she knew who kissed her. Knew that he had no intention of letting her go this time.
He raised his head and examined her. She wore a plain frock and shawl, an almost Puritan white cap upon her head. Had she thought to hide her beauty from him with such a meager disguise?
“I searched for you,” he said with careful precision. “I searched for you obsessively for the six days before the Challenger left port--”
She blinked. “Six days?”
“And when I returned only a fortnight ago,” he continued, determined to speak his fill. “I stopped only long enough to see my men safely to port before continuing the chase. I haven’t even had time to sit down to a proper meal on land since I made port, all because I was searching for you. And the worst part, the most damnable part of all--is that until I came over that hill and saw you standing here I had no proof that I would find you at all.”
Here he may have let his iron control slip a bit for he found himself kissing her again, devouring her mouth like a starving man presented with a loaf of bread. When he raised his head again he saw with some satisfaction that her cheeks had pinkened and she was looking a bit dazed. He almost smiled, but he restrained himself in time.
“Explain yourself, madam.”
“I-I…” For a moment her cat-green eyes were dazed, but then they narrowed in suspicion. “How did you find me?”
Her mode of attire might have changed, but her wit obviously had not. He leaned close, her nearness warming his heart. “I’ll tell you how I found you when you tell me what was going on in that pretty head of yours when you abandoned me—”
She stiffened. “It wasn’t abandonment—”
“After a night of sublime lovemaking,” he continued, “which, I think most would agree, would lead any man to believe our relationship had taken on a permanent basis. I think I could successfully bring a suit of breach of promise against you—”
“Oh!”
He bent and bit her ear gently. “Therefore, I would be most grateful if you would give me a reason for causing me such heartache.”
When he raised his head again she was looking contrite. “I never meant to cause you heartache, Isaac.”
He raised a skeptical eyebrow.
Her color heightened. “I didn’t! You must know that we could never be together for very long. We—”
“Why not?” His words were clipped as he felt his ire rise.
She gaped at him—and then began to laugh, though the sound was a little desperate.
Isaac contemplated kissing her again—or simply taking her here on the cliffs, but they needed to have this conversation in order to move forward. And besides, it was a chilly day.
So he simply waited until her gasping laughter quieted and then raised his brow again.
Her mouth turned down at the sight, the corners bitter and lined. “I’m a whore.”
“Were.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You were a whore,” he enunciated clearly. “But no longer.”
She shook her head as if the past tense was trifling. “You are a respectable man. A man whose entire career could be ruined simply by association with me.”
She stopped and glared at him.
He nodded encouragingly, but she simply stared at him, looking rather frustrated.
“Is that it?” he asked politely.
She threw up her hands. “Is that it? That’s everything, I should think! I left because I could not bear the inevitable severing of our relationship. I left because we could never be.”
“You left because you had a cowardly moment,” he replied drily. She opened her mouth in outrage, but he placed a finger over her lips. “My turn, I think.”
She closed her mouth and glared at him, mute, her arms cross.
“One,” he said, ticking his points off on his fingers. “You are no longer a whore. Two, you wore a mask, you little idiot—no one will recognize you if you don’t tell them your past. Three, I love you. Four, you love me. Five...”—He tapped his thumb against his chin—“Well, I really don’t have a fifth reason, but I should think the first four are sufficient.”
“But—!”
He smiled benevolently down at her. She really was quite lovely with her cheeks pinked by the wind, and he much preferred her simple white dress to the gaudy things she’d worn at the Grotto. “To answer your first question, I found you because of your sister’s portrait--remember you had her miniature on your dresser?”
She nodded, looking not a little distracted.
“Well, I had quite a lot of time to contemplate the matter whilst I was at sea. The minute I made port I went to the Grotto and talked to Billy. He sends his regards, by the way. He told me that you had received regular letters from an address in Essex. I tracked down the address, talked to your sister—she sends her love as well—and voila! Here I am.”
He watched her open her mouth once more as if to argue. “Ah, ah! Do you have any more questions for me?”
She shut her mouth, frowned quite charmingly, then said grudgingly, “No.”
“Good.” Isaac reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring he’d been carrying about for six long months. Though he had met warships in battle at sea, though he’d faced down maddened pirates, he noted with one part of his mind that his fingers actually trembled.