The Countess' Lucky Charm by A. M. Westerling Page A

the starboard railing.
    “What is it?” She moved to stand beside the young clerk.
    “Look!” Dr Taylor pointed. “Land ho. That’s North America.”
    “I must beg pardon?” Simone followed the doctor’s finger. “I don’t see anything. The horizon’s a bit blurred, nothing else.”
    “This might help.” Gordon gave her the looking glass that he had tucked against his side.
    “Thank you.” Squinting, she peered through the lens. “Are you sure that’s land?” she asked as she handed the glass back to him.
    “Oh, yes. You should have heard Robert sing at breakfast this morning.”
    “Who? Oh, Robert.” Of course, the captain’s bird, how could she have forgotten? Every morning she passed a few crumbs into the cage hanging from the corner beam in the dining room.
    Gordon’s mention of breakfast reminded her of her own hunger.
    “There’s a scone for you on the sideboard,” Temple drawled, as if he had read her mind. He leaned around the clerk to look at her. His eyebrows lifted at her dishevelled appearance. “Is something the matter?”
    The concern in his voice warmed her right to the very tips of her toes. “Just a dream I have every now and then.”
    “I daresay a nightmare, judging by the looks of you.”
    She didn’t want to talk about it. “It’s over now. If you gentlemen would excuse me, I’ll go find my breakfast.”
    She found the scone on a plate covered with a linen towel. After spooning some preserves on it, she selected an orange from the ever present basket on the sideboard and returned to stand by the railing.
    She finished the scone, licking the stickiness from her fingers, then dug a finger nail into the dimpled peel of the fruit to pull off a chunk. One bit at a time, she threw the peels to the sea gulls and watched them swarm.
    He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not. As the peel dwindled, the pieces got smaller until she ended on he loves me. A childish, fanciful thought but one she yearned for. The reason being?
    The answer leapt into her mind like a soldier joining the fray.
    She loved him.
    Totally, irrevocably, loved him.
    She shook her head. Nay, that wasn’t possible. He attracted her, yes, but it was a doomed attraction for they were of disparate worlds.
    Perhaps she mistook gratitude for love.
    Yes, that was it, she was grateful to him for taking her along, giving her a chance to improve her life.
    “ Oy ,” she sighed, watching the gulls circling about much like her thoughts.
    Thankfully, the voyage was almost over. They had all been cooped up for weeks now and the prospect of setting foot on land enticed her. Too, once on land, she wouldn’t be in constant contact with Temple.
    She pried the fruit apart and sucked on the first bit, the flavour reminding her of the flavour of Temple’s mouth. Sweet yet tangy.
    The prospect of accompanying Temple to New Caledonia teased her. Her desire to be with him, to see the journey finished, warred with her sense of self preservation.
    How hellish would it be to be in his company day in and day out? All the while realizing the futility of her growing feelings toward him and the impossibility of her future twining with his?
    However, she couldn’t see a way out for only she knew where his package was and she doubted he would journey on without her. Perhaps if she simply told him of its location, she could persuade him to let her stay in Montreal.
    It seemed her only solution if she thought to save her sanity.
     
     
     

 
     
     
     
    Chapter Nine
     
     
    It was almost too easy, Simone thought, pulling from her shawl several leather pouches and a crocheted reticule and placing them on the little writing desk by the window of their room in one of Montreal’s quaint hotels.
    Satisfaction filled her at the realization the long weeks at sea had not diminished her talent. It had been no idle boast she’d made to Temple the night he found her in his trunk.
    Montreal proved to be fertile ground. At this