He set his feet down and sat up straighter. "Would you ever return to them? Your family?"
Unbelievably, she chuckled.
Was his question hilarious?
He searched for her eyes. "What?"
"Henry had asked me the very same question."
"And what had your answer been?" He asked, realising with an unexplainable feeling that he wished for one answer only.
She smiled sadly, picking at her fingers. "That I'll never return. Not even when you'll set me from your ship."
When?
He stared darkly. "You will not return even to the memory of your husband? This James Stanhope?"
She shook her head
Brand observed her. A light wind slipped through the open window, stirring his hair, and hers. Madelyn's countenance remained as calm as the ocean wave on a clear day even though underneath he thought her more unsettled than she cared to admit.
The revelation struck him.
She was not mourning the death of her husband. No, she was not, rather rejoicing in it.
It was astonishing.
