Page 30 of Only By Grace
“Good afternoon,” he said with a slight bow. “I have just come from seeing Barry.”
“He is doing well,” she remarked as she set her book aside, grateful to have sight of him again, even though her nerves tingled at his presence.
“I’m allowing him to perform some light duties again. He tells me he is about to climb the walls. Have you ever heard of such a notion? I suppose when you are used to climbing rigging, why not walls?”
Grace laughed. “I am afraid that is true, but also a good sign that he is healing.”
“I must thank you for caring for him. It eased my mind to know he was being looked after while I dealt with other things.”
Grace would not ask what those other things were.
“Barry’s plight made me think that perhaps you, too, might be desiring a change of scene. Would you like to venture on deck?”
Grace hesitated, a dozen objections rising to her lips. The prospect of facing the crew, even with Lord Carew at her side, was daunting. “Are you certain it is safe?” she asked, her voice betraying her uncertainty.
His brow arched slightly, a trace of amusement softening his chiselled features. “Safe enough, provided you give the men a wide berth. They have their work, and you need not concern yourself with their opinions. Come, you will find the sky far more pleasing than these walls.”
Carew offered his arm as though they were promenading through a London park rather than the deck of a ship and as though someone had not tried to kill her a few days before. She stood and smoothed down her dress, not bothering to fetch her bonnet or gloves.
The change of scenery was startling after days below. The deck stretched wide before her, a sharp contrast to the last time she’d been above which had been at night. The vastness of the sea spread out in every direction, its blue expanse dazzling under the sunlight. The breeze was brisk but not unpleasant, carrying with it the tang of salt and the freshness of open air. Graceinhaled deeply, feeling a tension she had not realized she carried begin to dissipate.
Carew led her to a quiet corner of the deck, away from the more active areas where the crew was notably absent. He gestured towards the railing, and she stepped cautiously forward, peering over the edge. The sight of the bow cutting through the waves, cresting and falling endlessly, was mesmerizing.
“You see,” he said, his tone almost conversational, “there is little to fear here now. The sea can be a harsh mistress, but on a day like this, the punishments are worth the rewards.”
Grace turned to him, surprised by the poetic quality of his words. There was a depth to his voice, an undercurrent of reverence for the ocean that she had not expected. “It is beautiful,” she admitted, though she could not entirely banish her unease. “But it was less the sea than the people I was afraid of. I do not suppose I will receive credit for the favourable weather.”
Carew regarded her with an amused expression. “I would not count on it. Shall we remind them of your powers?” He raised a brow as a challenge. “They may yet regard you as a talisman.”
“Of course.” Her tone indicated she would do nothing of the sort.
He chuckled. “You presume to apply logic to the situation, of which very little is to be had with superstitions.”
“I am pleased enough to be ignored.”
“A lady such as yourself is unlikely to pass unnoticed for long, even amongst the most superstitious of sailors.”
Grace tilted her head, her own amusement flickering in her expression. “You mistake me for my sisters. I am noticed by association.”
“Nay, lass. I am not mistaken.”
He looked at her meaningfully, but she dared not hope nor argue, for it was pointless. She knew the truth. While she was no antidote, her sisters were all stunning—not just for their beauty, but for their inner light that shone like the stars she and Lord Carew had witnessed the other night. He was simply being kind.
“You have borne your situation with more composure than most would muster.”
His words warmed her, though she was uncertain whether to believe them. “I fear I have done little to earn such praise, my lord. I have merely endured what I cannot change.”
“Sometimes,” he said quietly, “endurance is the greatest test of all.”
They stood in silence for a time, the wind whipping at her hair and face, and the sound of the waves filling the space between them. Grace found herself oddly at peace, the vastness of the sea lending perspective to her worries. Whatever lay ahead, she would face it with as much resolve as she could summon. For now, she allowed herself to enjoy the rare moment of tranquillity, standing beside a man who seemed to understand her plight better than she could have imagined.
Their gazes met, and for a moment, the playful words fell away, replaced by a quiet understanding that neither could quite articulate. A gust of wind caught her by surprise, and Grace looked away to grasp the railing, her heart inexplicably lighter, even as her thoughts grew more tangled than ever. Maybe he did see a little light within her that others had missed, and a twinkle of hope began to flicker in her breast.
Ronan stared thoughtfullyat Grace as she spoke, her words tumbling out in a way that suggested she was entirely unawareof the effect she had on those around her. Did she not know that her beauty would halt legions of soldiers on the march to war? She would always draw eyes, even as she aged, he suspected. He’d noticed her beauty from the start. It had been her timidity that had made him dismiss her.
He had known many women who were conscious of their charms, who wielded their beauty like a weapon. But Grace was different. There was a naturalness to her, a lack of artifice that made her all the more captivating, now that she’d opened up. Even he had been slow to see it at first. She seemed wholly unaware of the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed, or how the faint flush that coloured her cheeks in moments of emotion only heightened her appeal. She carried herself with a modesty that was neither feigned nor excessive, and yet there was an underlying confidence to her that fascinated him. It was a paradox—a delicate balance of meekness and strength that he could not quite unravel.
And therein lay the mystery. Was it her very blindness to her own beauty that made her so intriguing? Or was her modesty born of something else entirely—perhaps a life spent overlooked by those closest to her, or undervalued in the shadow of more lively siblings? The thought unsettled him, for he could not bear the idea of such a light going unrecognized, of Grace doubting her worth simply because she had not been taught to see it herself.
