It was his best bottle, and he didn’t care to waste it on the vicar. Snatching up the glass resting on his desk, he poured a generous amount and left the bottle out. He sank into the only comfortable chair in his cabin and took a drink of the numbing liquor.Nights were the hardest, and the evening’s reading brought back the worst of his memories. Cecily haunted him like an apparition. She was present everywhere in his quarters. The impractical china dishes gracing the hutch he’d had built for her. The large copper tub and hand-carved bed in his sleeping chamber. The plush rug resting along the bed where she could feel softness beneath her feet each morning. He had tried to make his ship fit for a lady of her station, the daughter of a governor, but nothing had pleased her.He had failed before their marriage had even begun.Daniel’s gaze landed on the gashed window seat and his jaw tightened. The chipped woodwork bore testament to Cecily’s fiery temper. She had launched a heavy tankard at him, missing her intended target and gouging the hand-carved scrolling instead of cracking his skull.He couldn’t recall what had set her on a tear that particular time.
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