O Night Divine A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,135

harbor. He made his way slowly down the companionway and joined her on deck. “Miss Hindley,” he said, doffing his bowler before gripping the railing.

His deep voice chased away the chill in the air. In the clear light of day, she could see the true color of his eyes. “Sergeant Cullen,” she replied from her dry throat. “I was right. Your eyes are blue.”

He laughed, causing butterflies to flit about in her tummy. “Please, call me Parker.”

“Then you must call me Samantha,” she countered.

“And I’m Grace,” her sister said, jabbing an elbow into Samantha’s ribs.

“Grace,” Parker acknowledged.

Samantha unhooked her arm, thankful her grinning sister took the hint and wandered off.

Her father’s distorted voice came over the loud-hailer. “Welcome aboard. This is Captain Hindley. We’re in for a rare treat today as we cross the Severn. You’ll have the best view of the opening of the new railway bridge.”

Several passengers on the crowded deck chatted excitedly, but fell silent when the announcement continued. “We’ve a brisk wind coming up the channel today, so it will be choppy out there. I can assure you you’re in safe hands. I’ve been plying these waters for twenty years.”

Women huddled deeper into their cloaks. Gentlemen tapped top hats, forcing them lower on their brows. Samantha noticed Parker’s knuckles on the railing had turned white. A man with an injured leg might find a rough crossing difficult. “I want to apologize,” she began, hoping what she was about to say wouldn’t offend him. “I misjudged you last evening.”

He frowned. “In what way?”

As the boat lurched away from the dock, she took a chance and put her hand on his, emboldened by his warmth. “I understand now why you don’t dance. And you left without saying goodnight because you didn’t want us to see…” Her courage faltered. “…your cane.”

He stared at her hand. “You’re not wearing your ring.”

As she raised her eyes to look into his questioning gaze, Samantha knew she had made the right decision. “No. I’ve decided to break off my engagement.”

Parker was certain Samantha must be able to hear the frantic beating of his heart. She’d been hoping he would come. She hadn’t averted her eyes in embarrassment when she saw him limping along the dock, though his problem had clearly taken her by surprise. Nor had she shied away from mentioning his limp. Women usually avoided the topic as if it didn’t exist. And she’d broken her engagement! He suddenly felt like a tongue-tied youth. “I see,” was all he could manage, filled with an urge to lift her cold hand to his lips. “Your fiancé wasn’t at the ball.”

He felt the loss when she withdrew her hand and waved to the bridge. “No. He’s involved with the grand opening. In fact, he’ll be on the first train across.”

Parker’s innards clenched. The feeling of impending disaster was back. “Have you told him?”

“Not yet. I didn’t really decide until this morning. I will tell him when he gets back from Wales.”

She’d made her decision this morning—Parker hoped meeting him last night had been a contributing factor.

They stood together in silence as the side-wheels plowed their way across the river.

“I direct your attention to the grandstand on your left,” Hindley announced through the loud-hailer. “As you see, the speeches are in progress.”

From so far away, the people on the grandstand looked like miniatures, but Parker made out Judson’s bald head. “My uncle designed the bridge,” he said, pointing. “He’s the one with the bald head. He must have taken off his top hat in the wind.”

She squinted into the spray. “It’s hard to see. I should have put two and two together and realized Judson Cullen was a relative of yours. You must be proud.”

“I suppose I am,” he agreed, not willing to get into a conversation about his uncle’s lack of social graces. “He’s designed many famous bridges.”

“I read that in The Times,” she replied.

“I’m just hoping today’s opening goes off without a hitch,” he added, wishing he hadn’t when she turned to look him in the eyes. He might drown in those brown depths.

“Why wouldn’t it?”

He tried to put the lid back on the can of worms he’d opened. “I’m a policeman. We have suspicious minds.”

She didn’t look away. “But I can tell you’re worried.”

“Not overly,” he lied.

For Darren, the minutes before a grand plan came to fruition were the most nerve-wracking, though he freely admitted it was the part of his job he relished above all. Willing his right leg to stop