Charles Towne Belles Trilogy by MaryLu Tyndall

Author:MaryLu Tyndall [TYNDALL, M. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-62029-517-5
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2009-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 21

Hope lay on a bed of fresh leaves and listened to the sweet chorus of birds beckoning her awake. Slowly, she opened her eyes to see their oblong shadows drifting over the sunlit palm branches that formed the roof of her tiny hut. She smiled at the happy way they flitted about, singing their carefree melody. The island boasted a multitude of birds, each one adorned in the most crisp bright shades of green, yellow, red, even purple and blue, that Hope had ever seen—more beautiful than the most elegant and plush gowns on London’s finest ladies. These exquisite creatures didn’t possess wealth or title, yet they flew about happily as kings and queens of the air, all the while gazing down on the pathetic human race bound to sand and dirt.

The birds’ melodies heightened and joined in perfect unison as if they were inviting Hope to join them. How she wished she could shed her human stains, her ugliness, and transform into one of those more lofty creatures and fly away, away from her earthbound existence, away from her past, away from the pain of rejection.

A scripture verse popped into her mind from a long time ago, something about birds not sowing or reaping or worrying about tomorrow, yet their Father in heaven feeds them and cares for them. Hope sighed, forcing down her longing to be loved—to be cared for in such a way.

True to his promise, Mr. Mason had not spoken a word to her nor graced her with one glance of his handsome brown eyes for three days. In fact, wherever she happened to be, whether sitting on the beach or lolling about the camp, he made every effort to position himself elsewhere.

The stab of his rejection surprised her. Hadn’t she always known he deserved a far more chaste and pious lady than she? Someone like Abigail. The more Hope had tried to prove herself a lady to this virtuous man, the less he seemed to believe it—even though she had not behaved to the contrary.

Except she had welcomed his kiss.

She rose to her elbows as a bath of heat drenched her at the memory. And what a kiss it was! The gentleness, the yearning she felt in his every movement. A fiery heat had flooded her entire body, stealing her ability to think, to breathe. Not at all like the manner in which he had kissed her on board the merchantman. Passion had driven that kiss, but this one … A pleasant shiver ran through her even now. It was as if Nathaniel were truly kissing her—Hope Westcott—not who she appeared to be on the outside. She’d experienced none like it before. And certainly never would again.

A jab of guilt struck her. What of Abigail? Obviously, she harbored affections for Nathaniel. In light of that, Hope should have rejected Nathaniel’s advance, should have pushed him away. Could she not resist one man’s attentions for the sake of a friend? Hope’s heart grew heavy even as the bird’s morning ensemble drifted away.

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