Daughter of Deep Silence Read Online Free PDF Page B

seems to stretch out forever. Once upon a time it had been the only house on the island, part of a much, much larger plantation. The ancestors of the original owner had broken the land into large lots, selling them off to create beachfront estates. This house had been slated to be torn down until Shepherd persuaded Cecil to buy it. They’d spent the last several years trying to put as much of the original plantation’s land as possible under a conservation easement.
    It certainly helped when Senator Wells purchased a lot farther down the island and was willing to throw his weight behind the cause. After all, limiting development only served to increase the value of his own property and provide tax breaks for his wealthy neighbors.
    And this presented the perfect excuse for me to come “home” after so many years away. It’s only natural that I’d throw the Senator a fund-raiser in thanks for his support of a cause my father held dear.
    Already there’s a bustle of activity around the side of the house. Caterers, florists, and decorators setting up for this evening’s event. I’ve been told by the party planner that the guest list is full; scores of the South’s wealthiest families willing to pay an exorbitant price to the Wells Senatorial Reelection Fund for the chance to witness the survivors of the
Persephone
reunite for the first time.
    It’s an opportunity I knew the Senator himself would never turn down. The man loves a good photo op as much as he loves money and power.
    The car pulls around to the front of the house and as the driver unloads my luggage I take a deep breath and climb the front steps. Before I even reach for the door, it opens to reveal a guy around my age.
    His hair is dark and cut short—practically buzzed—and a light coating of stubble washes across his chin and cheeks. It makes his jaw look sharp and emphasizes the shadows under his cheekbones. He’s wearing a green T-shirt with a faded recycling symbol printed across the front and as he clutches the edge of the door, the muscles in his arms flex against the thin fabric.
    Though I’ve never come face-to-face with him in person, I recognize him immediately. During the interminable hours lost at sea, Libby had shared everything about him until I felt that I must have known him as well as she did. Even so, a thread of anxiety knots in my stomach: If there’s anyone who can end this charade in an instant, it’s Shepherd Oveja. He’d been in love with Libby, once. And she’d loved him back.
    But that was all before the
Persephone
.
    “Hello, Shepherd.” I muster a crooked smile.
    Emotions tumble across his face: a flare of surprise, followed by a flash of hunger, leading into something wary and guarded. I’m keenly aware of the way his eyes devour me, taking in every tiny detail.
    I twist at the gold ring on my finger, the one bearing the O’Martin family crest. When he notices the nervous habit, his jaw clenches and he inhales sharply. He struggles to shield his anger behind an expression on the cold side of neutral.
    To be fair, he has every right to be mad. For months after the rescue he’d tried to reach Libby, desperate to know how she was doing. Desperate to hear anything from her.
    And not once had I responded.
    He nods, sharply. “Libby.” That’s all he says. No “hello” or “nice to see you after all these years.”
    No “I missed you.”
    I frown at the small kernel of disappointment I feel. Not at his cold reception, but that he falls so easily for my deception. It makes me feel sorry for Libby, that she’d once loved this guy with the kind of intensity that only exists when you fall in love for the first time.
    And he can’t even recognize that I’m not her.
    For a moment, neither of us moves. He stands blocking the door and I stand on the wide porch, the hired car idling behind me.
    “Welcome home.” He practically spits the words as he turns and stalks into the house, leaving the door open.

SIX
    I follow