[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Her toes relished their newfound freedom.
Both her petticoats were old and soft.
Her cotton lawn petticoat and her muslin pantalets were
comfort able
enough to sleep in.
Thank heavens she didn't have .
to wear stays!
Folding back the sheets, she crawled into bed and snuggled
down on her
stomach, poking the pillow until she'd shaped it to suit
her.
Her last conscious thought was that the bed was much
longer than the
one she was used to, and it smelled of some elusive scent
that was
strangely exciting.
More than an hour passed before Dick Styron had time to
explain to his
captain that Mr. Egleston, the leather-goods salesman
assigned to
number one, was now in number three on account of a wet
bed, which
could have been because the porthole over the bunk was
left undogged
and salt spray had soaked the mattress, but was probably
because the
man had spilled his drink on the thing.
"Damnation! There's times I'm tempted to convert the
passenger space
to another cargo deck and be done with it! Leastwise
bales of cotton
don't complain about wet beds, cold food or rolling when
the wind blows
and the lack of speed when it don't."
"Yes, sir. Ain't that what I been saying all along?"
"I quit listening to you when you wanted to turn this
thing into a
floating crap game. Where'd you put my wife?"
"In your quarters, and word is that Amos's boy's doing all
right with
his floating crap game."
"Happens I'm a coaster, not a gambler. You'want to ship
out with
Callum, I'll pay your passage down to New Orleans. How
about number
two?"
"The Crottses is in there."
"Oh, hell, I forgot. Maybe you'd better plan to shift
your gear to the
crew's quarters until we get to Hatteras, Dick. I,
uh--that is, Mrs.
Rawson and I-----oh, the devil, hadn't you better make
ready to get
underway?
That business with customs is all cleared up.
Damned clerk can't read.
He swore again and turned away, leaving a smirking first
officer to see
to the last-minute preparations.
Watching the sails fill some forty minutes later, Rogan
unconsciously
caressed a spoke of the wheel, sensing the drag of
current, the wind
and a dozen other variants, just as he'd seen his father
do countless
times in the past.
, While all his senses were alert to the business of
getting his ship
safely through the inlet and around the cape, another part
of his mind
was plagued by an altogether different matter.
That woman.
That damned ugly bonnet!
Was there something wrong with the shape of her head that
she had to
wear a hat all the time?
He had nothing against women's hats in general, but that
black thing
was an abomination.
Josiah had warned him that she was plain.
Under the circumstances, her looks didn't make all that
much
difference.
It wasn't as if he had to live with her or anything.
Still, he'd have thought a woman's wedding day would have
called for
something a little special in the way of a hat or a gown.
He had had Billy black his boots till they shone like
glass.
He'd put on a vest with his black suit, surely a
concession on the
hottest day of the year!
What the devil was she hiding underneath all that ugly
black taffeta?
God knows, she had no call to hide herself from him.
He'd had no designs on her even before Josiah had
explained why she'd
had to leave her sister's house.
Married or not, the poor girl was safe as a door lock as
far as he was
concerned.
He liked his women plump, blond, pretty and experienced.
The Stevens girl didn't fit on a single count.
Maybe for a wedding gift he'd buy her a mirror so she
could see for
herself that she was no great temptation to any man,
husband or not.
Hell, she was skinny as a bird dog, and those great, gray
eyes of hers
were far too big for her bony little face.
All right, so he might've been the least bit moved by the
shadows in
those eyes.
That had been before he'd figured out that they were
probably just
caused by her lashes, which were long and thick as a
privet hedge.
And then there was her mouth.
While he could hardly deny that her lips were full and
soft and
moist-looking, with none of the dryness that came from
using stains,
she wouldn't know what to do with them.
A woman's mouth could be a wondrous thing, properly
taught.
What was he thinking?
Prim and skinny?
All right, so maybe her waist was so small a man's two
hands could
easily span it.
and slide down over gently rounded hips.
Or upward, over soft, incredibly white breasts.
Swearing under his breath, Rogan glared at a packet that
was
overtaking, showing every sign of meaning to pass in the
narrowest part
of the channel.
As if he didn't have enough on his mind, he had to keep an
eye out for
green seamen.
He'd better concentrate on maneuvering his way through
this mess that
glib-talking preacher had landed him in!
Dammit, he had gone ashore intending to hire a woman and
ended up
taking on a wife!
How the bloody hell had Josiah managed to talk him into
such a thing?
He couldn't even blame it on rum!
He'd been stone-cold sober the whole time he'd been
ashore.
The trouble was, it had been too long since he'd taken the
time to
visit Della, his mistress of some two and a half years.
A few hours in port now and again was hardly long enough
to see to his
cargo, much less hire a buggy to take him out into the
county, where [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]