Secret Assignment. Paula Graves
a farm in Burkettville. Her husband died a few years ago, and I know she’s missing him terribly. Perhaps we’ll be able to give each other some relief from the loneliness.” She smiled. “It will be lovely to be around my nieces and nephews more.”
Lydia’s words sounded sincere, but in her eyes Shannon saw anxiety, as if she feared what further changes her future might hold.
There was no foyer inside, as she’d expected, only a large, airy room that seemed to spread all the way from the front of the house to the back. It was part living room, part dining room, with a large, airy kitchen near the back and, through several sets of French doors, a long veranda that overlooked a raised garden.
“Gideon, dear, I’ve given Shannon the blue room.” As Gideon headed up the stairs to the top floor, Lydia turned to Shannon with a smile. “You don’t mind if I call you Shannon, do you? And you must call me Lydia.” She lowered her voice. “I’ve tried to get Gideon to call me by my given name as well, but he’s so formal! My husband said it was because he was a marine.”
Shannon smiled back. “Two of my brothers were marines. I know exactly what you’re talking about.”
Lydia showed her into the kitchen, where a small tray of cheese and crackers sat on the narrow breakfast bar, along with a pitcher of iced tea. “I hope you like sweet tea. I can come up with some soft drinks if you prefer.”
“Tea is perfect.” Shannon sat where Lydia indicated and took a couple of crackers and some slices of Havarti cheese from the tray. “Is it okay if I get started this afternoon? Going through your husband’s papers, I mean.”
Lydia looked surprised. “I thought you’d want to rest and start fresh in the morning.”
“I’ll do whatever you wish,” Shannon said quickly, reading Lydia’s reluctance. “We can spend this afternoon getting to know each other if that’s what you prefer.”
Lydia smiled ruefully. “I’m quite transparent, aren’t I? It is rare for me to have female companionship these days. I haven’t ventured to the mainland for more than a couple of hours at a time since Edward’s death. It’s hard to know how to deal with old friends—sometimes, I feel as if they’re watching me carefully in anticipation of a breakdown.”
Shannon impulsively put her hand atop Lydia’s where it lay on the counter. “My sister lost her husband a few years ago, and she used to think the same thing. She didn’t even like to be around the family sometimes because of it. But it wasn’t what we were thinking, I promise. We just wanted to help her however she needed it.”
Tears brimmed in Lydia’s eyes, but she held on to them, as if refusing to let them fall. “And did you help her?”
Shannon smiled. “As much as she’d let us. But there’s a happy ending—she remarried a week ago.”
“Well, lovely for her!” Lydia’s smile looked genuine. “The young are not meant to be alone.”
“I don’t think anyone’s meant to be alone.”
Lydia patted her hand. “I am fortunate, then, to have a kind young man like Gideon to keep me company, no?”
As if speaking his name conjured him into appearing, Gideon came down the stairs and entered the kitchen with long, floor-eating strides. “I need to do a patrol of the island,” he said tersely. “If you need me, I’ll have the two-way with me.”
“Thank you, dear. You’re too good to me.”
An odd, pained look flashed in Gideon’s blue eyes before he nodded goodbye and headed back through the front door.
“How did Mr. Stone come to be your caretaker?” Shannon asked curiously, seeing an answering pain in her hostess’s eyes.
Lydia smiled, but there was anguish in her expression. “My son died saving his life.”
* * *
A BOUT A QUARTER mile north of the house, Gideon found the spot on the beach where the raft had tried to come ashore. Something like a Zodiac would be able to accommodate a crew of four, the number of men Mrs. Ross had seen from the widow’s walk. It would also fit Mrs. Ross’s description of the vessel she’d seen.
A fishing boat off course might be an accidental visitor. But a Zodiac—it made no sense that a Zodiac or any sort of motorized raft would have been traveling the Gulf of Mexico on a pleasure cruise. More likely, it had been a landing boat from a larger craft, like the Hatteras or something even larger.
He’d retrieved his binoculars from the Lorelei before he started his island circuit and lifted them now toward the Gulf of Mexico stretching in turquoise splendor as far as the eye could see. There were shrimp boats out on the water, even the occasional sailboat. And fishing boats, of course.
Any one of the larger fishing craft could have carried the intruder boat, he recognized with frustration. Could someone in a boat have used a rubber dinghy to attempt an island landing, not realizing the place was inhabited?
He turned around and looked toward the house from where he stood by the furrowed sand. Stafford House’s facade was clearly visible even from here, and would have been even more visible from the water.
Nobody could have mistaken Nightshade Island as deserted.
Movement on the second-floor veranda caught his eye. Shannon Cooper stepped out onto the balcony, joined by Lydia. Stepping behind the shelter of a scrubby sea oats stand, Gideon raised his binoculars for a closer, more covert look.
Shannon’s straight, dark hair lifted in the breeze coming off the Gulf, fluttering around her heart-shaped face. Wind flattened her blouse against her body, revealing the shape of her small, round breasts and narrow waist.
Fire licking at his belly, he lowered the binoculars with a grumble of frustration. He’d been isolated on the island too long.
He resumed his walk around the island, trying to think who might want to sneak onto Nightshade Island and for what purpose.
But in the back of his mind, Shannon Cooper still leaned against the railing of the second-floor veranda, her hair floating in the breeze and her dark eyes full of mysteries.
Chapter Three
Gathering clouds hastened twilight, plunging the island into shadows soon after 5:00 p.m. Lydia had insisted Shannon rest before dinner, so she’d gladly taken the chance to shower off the heat of the day and change into fresh clothes.
“No need for formality around here, dear,” Lydia had said with a smile. “We live on an island. Who’s to care if we look a bit shabby?”
When Shannon ventured downstairs at six, she found Gideon alone in the kitchen, slicing onions. He glanced at her as she perched on one of the breakfast bar stools. “Settled in?”
“Yes, thank you.” She tried to discern what he was preparing from the ingredients—sliced onions, red bell peppers and pieces of corn. “Stir fry?”
“Crab boil,” he corrected.
“Where are the crabs?”
He slanted another look at her. “That’s your job. There’s a bucket outside and you can see the beach from here—”
“Don’t let him tease you, Shannon.” Lydia entered through the nearest French door, carrying a handful of zinnia cuttings. She arranged the colorful flowers in a clear vase and filled the bottom with water. “The crabs and shrimp are in the cooler. A nice man delivered them to us this morning.” She set the flowers in the middle of the small dining table just beyond the kitchen. “Aren’t these lovely?”
“Beautiful,” Shannon agreed. “I caught a glimpse of the garden from my window. It’s amazing.”
Lydia smiled with pleasure as she washed her hands. “My husband loved to garden, so we made a habit of bringing in soil to fill the raised beds every spring.”