“I think it appears that he’s stolen hundreds of thousands from his aunt. He may be isolating her and positioning himself to not have to wait to inherit everything when she dies.” Bert’s voice was hard. “People have killed for a lot less, Mary. If Colin realizes you’re onto him, you become an obstacle. And I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
She reached out and took his hand, her fingers warm and steady. “We’re in this together.”
“That’s how we operate,” Bert agreed, squeezing her hand. “So what’s our plan for today?”
Mary pulled up the ship’s daily schedule on her tablet. “After breakfast, there’s a shore excursion to a historic lighthouse this morning. Most passengers will be off the ship for about four hours. Colin and Diane are signed up for it.”
“Are we?”
“Yes, if you want to go.”
Bert’s eyebrows rose. “Going anywhere with you is exactly what I want to do.”
Her smile widened. “I’d love to explore the area with you.”
“Then let’s get ready to head to breakfast.
Mary looked up at him, and despite the seriousness of their mission, her eyes were warm. “Just promise me something?”
“Anything.”
“When this is all over, we finish the conversation we started this morning. About us. And about what happens when we go back to Montana.”
Bert cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheekbone. “I promise. And Mary? What happens when we go back to Montana is that I take you on a proper date. No fake engagements, no pretending, no more dancing around how we feel. Just us, being honest about what we want.”
“And what do you want?”
“You,” Bert said simply. “I want you.”
Her smile was bright enough to rival the morning sun streaming through the window, and he kissed her again, quick and sweet and full of promise. Then they headed out to face whatever the day would bring, together.
His hand lingered on her shoulder as they moved through the ship’s corridors, and Mary leaned into his touch with obvious contentment. They looked at each other like people who were genuinely together, not acting.
That was just the truth, finally spoken after months of silence.
24
The accessible van that would take them to the lighthouse arrived at nine o’clock, and Mary rolled up the ramp with Bert close behind, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder in a gesture that had become both familiar and thrilling over the past twenty-four hours. The vehicle was spacious enough to accommodate both her and Diane’s wheelchairs comfortably, along with several other passengers who’d opted for the slower-paced excursion.
Colin helped Diane aboard with the kind of solicitous attention that would have looked caring to anyone who didn’t know what Mary now knew. George was there too, looking significantly better than he had two days ago, though still a bit pale. He positioned himself near Diane with obvious pleasure, and Mary caught the flash of irritation that crossed Colin’s face before he smoothed it away.
“Beautiful morning for our trip today,” their guide announced as the van pulled away from the dock. She was a local woman with a weathered face that spoke of a life spent near the water. “Cape Enrage Lighthouse is one of the most dramatic spots on the Bay of Fundy. The tides here are the highest in the world, and the views are spectacular.”
Bert’s hand found Mary’s, their fingers lacing together as they settled in for the drive. The gesture was becoming natural, as if they’d been doing it for years. Mary glanced up at him, found him looking at her with an expression that made her heart skip, and felt a flutter of something that was part excitement and part terror.
Everything was changing between them. Everything had already changed. And Mary was suddenly unsure if she was ready for what that meant.
The drive along the coast was stunning, and they enjoyed scenery that belonged on postcards. The Bay of Fundy spread out to their right, vast and gray-blue under the morning sun. Rocky cliffs dropped sharply to the water, and their guide pointed out various geological features as they drove.
“The Fundy tides can rise and fall up to fifty feet,” she explained. “Highest tides in the world. What you’re seeing now at high tide will be completely different in six hours.”
Mary found herself relaxing into the rhythm of the tour, leaning slightly into Bert’s solid warmth beside her. They’d spent time together, countless evenings watching TV on her couch, dinners at her house, working side by side at the compound. But this felt different. The easy intimacy of being a couple, even a fake one, had unlocked something between them.
“What are you thinking about?” Bert asked quietly, his breath warm against her ear.
“How different this is,” Mary admitted. “Being here with you like this.”
“Yeah,” he agreed softly, his thumb tracing patterns on the back of her hand. “I’m done pretending, Mary. When we get back to Montana, I want to do this for real. Take you to dinner, hold your hand because I want to, not because we’re playing a role.”