Free Andrea Kane by Legacy of the Diamond Page B

silver with a familiarity that made Slayde suspect she’d done this repeatedly over the past two days. “I realize you must already have glanced at it,” she said, “but ’tis far too beautiful for a cursory look.” Lovingly, she caressed the gleaming case, extending the watch for Slayde’s perusal.
    He took it, noting the intricacy of the pattern etched on the outside. “It’s lovely.”
    “Open it,” Courtney urged. “Hold it to the lamp so you can see the scene inside.”
    Slayde complied, studying the enchanting picture that greeted him.
    A solitary ship graced the center of the watch’s face. The vessel appeared to be paused on a course to the lighthouse depicted on the right—no, not paused—unmoving. Cushioned by peaceful sea waters, the ship remained as it was, halted midway to its destination, suspended in time.
    “According to Papa, Mama claimed he was the ship and she, the lighthouse,” Courtney elaborated, her voice choked. “That’s because, until a few days past, the picture moved. The lighthouse beam appeared, beckoning, and the ship sailed toward it, hastening toward its welcoming light just as Papa always did to Mama. He took the watch with him wherever he traveled, kept it with him all these years—even after she died. It was his way of having Mama beside him, always.” A shuddering breath. “He gave me the timepiece just before he was forced overboard, told me to keep it as a memory of them both. I clutched it long after that animal locked me in my cabin. I was afraid to open the case, because I knew what I would find. At last, I relented, needing to see I was wrong—only to discover I was right. Just as I dreaded, the watch had stopped.” Hollow emptiness returned to Courtney’s eyes. “It won’t start again until Papa is home where he belongs.”
    “Courtney—”
    “Don’t tell me he’s dead,” she refuted in a strangled whisper. “I refuse to accept that.” Two tears slid down her cheeks. “I can’t explain it, but while I realize up here”—she touched her brow—“the implausibility of what I’m saying, in here”—she lay her palm over her heart—“I believe otherwise.” Valiantly, she struggled for control. “So let’s not discuss it, all right? Let’s speak of something else.”
    With a wordless nod, Slayde snapped the watch case shut and replaced it in the drawer. “The timepiece is exquisite. Your mother had exceptional taste.” A heartbeat of a pause. “And an exceptional daughter.”
    Warm color tinged Courtney’s cheeks. “Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome.” Unsettled by his own sense of imbalance, Slayde sought a safer ground. “Tell me, why did you hate sailing? Was it the lack of privacy?”
    Courtney shook her head, capturing a tear with the tip of her tongue. “No. I had all the privacy I wished for. In fact, I spent long hours alone in my cabin. Only Papa visited me there. The men were given strict orders—by Papa—never to enter my quarters.”
    “I don’t blame him. A beautiful woman, together with a shipload of men? Were I your father, I’d have locked you in.”
    A twinge of amusement. “I was hardly compromised. The men treated me with the utmost respect. After all, my father was their captain.”
    “Where did your ship journey?”
    “To the Colonies. We carried furniture and other English goods to New York and Boston.”
    “Did you dislike visiting the Colonies?”
    “Actually, I found them quite fascinating. Why?”
    “I was only wondering if perhaps that was the reason you disliked your trips aboard the Isobel.”
    “No, it wasn’t.”
    “Very well, then; was it the food you so detested?”
    Courtney’s lips curved. “In truth, the meals served at Madame La Salle’s Boarding School were far more apt to cause fatal illness than those served aboard the Isobel. I also had less privacy, more restrictions, and far more unsavory companions at school than at sea. No, ’twas none of those things that deterred