It was later, as they were lying together, sweaty and sated, that she again told him that he shouldn’t be jealous of Mr. Grady. Cay entwined her fingers in Alex’s beard. “Although, he is much more handsome than you are. Even the Indian women said so. Did you get that nest of sandpipers out of this mess?”
He picked up her hand, kissed the palm, and held it on his chest. “It’s not looks that worry me. It’s that Grady is like a duke, and you’re a princess.”
Cay laughed, but Alex didn’t. “I haven’t had a bath in a week and I spend my days hauling big boxes around. I see nothing princesslike in my life.”
“I well know that even when you’re covered in mud, you act and talk and move like a princess. Even when we share a spoon and a bowl of stew, you’re a lady.”
Cay knew she should be flattered by his words, but they made her frown. Something big was bothering him, but she couldn’t get him to tell her what it was. The only way she could get to sleep was to tell herself that of course he was upset. He’d been unjustly accused of murder and they had no idea what was awaiting him when they left the secrecy of the uncharted territory of Florida. She finally did sleep, but she was restless, and so was Alex.
Twenty
Alex shaved.
The next morning Cay needed the only washbasin they had, and when she saw that Alex was using it, she was too impatient to register what he’d done. “I need that,” she said. The flatboat was loaded and she hadn’t even washed her face and hands. As always, Eli had saved her some hot water, but she hadn’t had time to use it because Tim had played one of his tricks on her that morning, this time involving porcupine quills from the little creature Alex had brought to her the day before. It was only from a month of wariness that Cay managed to escape being impaled on the sharp spikes. Tim had been smirking all morning as Cay pulled quills out of her clothing.
So now, Alex was further agitating her by hogging the washbasin. “Since when do you wash?” she snapped at him.
“Go ahead and take it,” he said, but she could barely hear him as he had a towel over the lower half of his face. When she picked up the basin, she saw the soapy water and the whiskers in it, but even then she didn’t register what Alex had done. Eli and Mr. Grady shaved every morning, so she was used to whiskery water.
With the basin in her hands, she turned away, but after two steps, she halted, and turned back to look at him.
Alex still had the towel over his face, and he was looking at her shyly, as though he was almost afraid to let her see that part of him naked. If they hadn’t been surrounded by other people, she would have made jokes about what parts of him she had seen unclothed. “Let’s see what you look like.”
He didn’t move, just kept looking at her, the towel held closely about his face.
Cay smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I won’t be shocked.” Her voice softened, and she stepped closer to him. “Even if you have scars under there, I won’t mind.” She’d meant her words to make him laugh, but she stopped smiling when she remembered that he’d been in prison. She hadn’t thought about what they may have done to him while he was there, but she did now. Tortures that she’d read about in her history studies—all of which Tally had gleefully read aloud to her—ran through her mind. She held on to the rim of the basin until her knuckles were white. “Please take the towel down,” she said softly as she prepared herself for what she’d see.
Slowly and with reluctance, Alex removed the towel from his face and looked at her.
Nothing could have prepared Cay for what she saw when Alex’s face was exposed. He was beautiful. Not just handsome, but as lovely, as perfect, as an angel. His blue eyes, so familiar to her, were set above a nose that was perfectly formed. His lips, which she’d kissed so many times but had never really seen, were full and shaped like those in classical paintings. What was more was that Alex was young, less than thirty was her guess, and there wasn’t a line or a flaw on his face. Compared to Alex, Mr. Grady was a plain-faced old man.
She stared at him in silence for a moment, unable to speak for her astonishment, then all the times she’d called him an old man, and all the things she’d said about the handsomeness of other men, came back to her—and anger began to run through her. He had lied to her by omission. She remembered how he’d laughed at her so many times, about so many things, but it looked as if that hadn’t been enough for him. Since the day they’d met, he’d given himself the pleasure of knowing he was making a fool of her. How he must have enjoyed the thought of her humiliation when she found out the truth about him! And the worst was that even when they’d been making love, he was laughing at her.
Without a thought of what she was doing, Cay threw the dirty shaving water into his face, dropped the basin to the ground, and marched off. She didn’t know where she was going, but she never wanted to see Alexander McDowell ever again.
He caught her by the time she reached the river and put his hand on her arm.
She jerked away, refusing to look at him. Cay stood there with her arms folded over her flattened chest and stared straight ahead at the water.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“You know very well what’s wrong.” Her jaw was clenched so tightly she could hardly speak.
“Am I too ugly for you to look at?” He put his hand out to touch her shoulder, but she moved away.
She tightened her arms and her lips, but she still wouldn’t look at him. “You are beautiful!” she said in a way that made the word sound like an accusation.
For a moment he was silent, then he said, “Am I better than Adam?”
That he was again—still—laughing at her, ridiculing her even now, made her want to hit him, to at least shout at him, but she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. If he could make jokes, so could she. “Of course not. And you’re not better-looking than my father, either.”
“How about Ethan?”
“Not even close.”
“Nate?”
“Yes.”