Seeing no reason to stand on ceremony, Maggie ripped the large box open and found a beautiful blue velvet cloak inside, trimmed in some luscious white fur. She draped the garment over her shoulders and whirled round and round in delight.

Her delight soon faded when a sudden rush of nausea flowed into her throat. Maggie dropped the cloak on the floor and dashed into the bathroom, arriving just in time.

When the spate of sickness was over and she’d rinsed out her mouth, Maggie went despondently back into the bedroom and sat down in an enormous leather chair facing the bed. For the first time, she allowed herself to count days, and the tally was an alarming one. She should have been bleeding a week before.

Trembling, Maggie undressed and crawled once again into that big, lonely bed, turning down the lamp before snuggling underneath the lightweight comforter and silken sheet. In the moonlight flowing in through the windows she could see her engagement ring flashing, and she comforted herself with the promise Reeve had made. If she was going to have his child, she was also going to have his name.

The following day was much like the two that had preceded it. Maggie worked hard, she was sick once, and there was another present waiting on the bed when she got home. This one was a tiny silver music box, and there was a note tucked beneath its lid.

Maggie opened the note. “Maggie,” Reeve had written in his forceful hand, “I’ve arranged for something to be delivered every day until we can be together again. Though I’m writing this ahead of time, I know I’ll be missing you by the time you read it. If you see Jamie again, don’t let him leave. Sincerely, Reeve.”

Maggie would have felt better if the note had been signed with love, but she was willing to wait for that. With a sigh she wound the music box and let its tinkling notes carry her far away, to a place where she and Reeve could be together always.

Chapter 17

THEY’D BEEN AT SEA THREE DAYS WHEN THE GREAT, rolling hulk of a whale was sighted off the starboard bow. A spray of water shot twenty feet into the air, glistening in the midday sunshine, and Reeve stood stock-still on the deck of the Elisabeth Lee, his hands gripping the railing.

Behind him, the crew raced to reset the sails, to lower the dinghies into the water, and to load the harpoons. Reeve felt sick, looking at that majestic creature as it plunged far beneath the surface and then rocketed skyward, as if to issue a challenge.

“Comin’, Cap’n?” a crewman asked, swinging a leg over the side of the small ship. He held his harpoon in one hand as he made his way down the rope ladder dangling above the sea.