A Heart Adrift by Laura Frantz
Blurb
It is 1755, and the threat of war with France looms over colonial York, Virginia. Chocolatier Esmée Shaw is fighting her own battle of the heart. Having reached her twenty-eighth birthday, she is reconciled to life alone after a decade-old failed love affair from which she’s never quite recovered. But she longs to find something worthwhile to do with her life.
Captain Henri Lennox has returned to port after a lengthy absence, intent on completing the lighthouse in the dangerous Chesapeake Bay, a dream he once shared with Esmée. But when the colonial government asks him to lead a secret naval expedition against the French, his future is plunged into uncertainty.
Will war and a cache of regrets keep them apart, or can their shared vision and dedication to the colonial cause heal the wounds of the past? Bestselling and award-winning author Laura Frantz whisks you away to a time fraught with peril—on the sea and in the heart—in this redemptive, romantic story.
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Excerpt
April 1745
With
his back to the coastal wind, Henri Lennox settled his arms around Esmée Shaw,
guiding her soft, pale hands with his tanned, callused fingers as they let the
long silken line out. The pear-shaped kite caught on a gust, tugging at the
string till it threatened to snap.
“Let
it fly away from you bit by bit,” he told her.
She
did so, her laugh a surprised trill as the kite climbed higher. “Shall I let
out more line?”
“Slowly,
aye. With the right technique, you can even make it dance.”
“What?”
“Just
give a tug to the string now and again. Like this.” He showed her as they gazed
upward, the kite zigzagging against the azure sky, its tail a scarlet streak as
it soared and dipped.
Wonder
laced her tone. “Where did you get such a winsome creation?”
“The
East Indies. They’ve been kite-flying for centuries. We colonials are just
coming awake. Our kite lacks but one thing.”
“Oh?”
She tugged on the line and sent the kite dancing again.
He
relaxed his hold on her hands, resting his jaw against her hatless head. She
fit neatly beneath his chin, her back warm against his linen-clad chest, the
wind riffling her carefully pinned hair like he longed to do with his fingers.
He breathed in the telltale rose scent that seemed to imbue every ebony strand.
“The kite lacks decoration. Our entwined initials should suit.”
“Henri
. . . how romantic.” Her voice held a touch of teasing. “’Tis something I might
fancy, not you.”
“You’ve
no idea what keeps me awake long nights at sea.”
The
afternoon sun sank behind them when it had been in their eyes minutes before.
Had it not just been noon? At their feet was an empty basket, the remains of a piquenique. The cold meats, cheeses, and
fruit had been devoured, even the little comfits molded in the shape of anchors
from Shaw’s Chocolate shop. Esmée’s hat was atop the sand near her discarded
shoes. Henri saw Admiral and Mrs. Shaw at a distance, slowly walking the beach
with Esmée’s younger sister.
He
kissed his beloved’s soft brow, his hands falling to her tightly cinched waist.
“With you, time seems to melt away when I want it to stand still.”
“If I could stop the clock, I would.” She let out more line, head tipped back as the kite soared higher. “I want to run with it.”
“In
those petticoats?” Even as he asked it, she darted away from him.
Lithe
and laughing, she ran full tilt along the shore, a ruffled white wave breaking
over her bare feet.
He
started after her, stepping over her hat and slippers. The sand slowed him, his
boots heavy, but he finally caught up with her. He untangled the kite string
from her fingers and led her behind a dune that hid them from any onlookers.
“Henri,
will you spoil my merriment?”
“My
mind is more on kissing than kites, Esmée.”
She
caught her breath as he brought the kite string behind his back, out of her
reach, while his free arm encircled her. She laid her head upon his chest, her
long-lashed eyes closing. Emotion knotted his throat. Did she realize she held
his heart? Not just a piece of it. The entire whole of it.
She
raised her head, her green eyes soft yet wary. “Don’t, Henri.”
He
brushed back a dark tendril of her hair. “Don’t kiss you?”
“Don’t
tell me you’re leaving again.”
“All
right, ma belle. I’ll just kiss you
then.” The tender moment was theirs, the future be hanged. He kissed her
soundly. Rather, she kissed him, her arms tightening around his neck as if
anchoring him to the spot and preventing their parting. Sensations she alone
was capable of rousing swam through him, widening eddies of desire shadowed by
regret.
“Captain
Lennox? Esmée?”
At
the sound of the admiral’s voice they drew apart, and inexplicably Henri let go
of the line. The colorful kite kept soaring, borne on a west wind over the
water, seeming to touch the clouds before vanishing from sight.
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