Read Online 63 Ola and the Sea Wolf by Barbara Cartland - Free Book Online
Authors: Barbara Cartland
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is nothing to do with me and doubtless she will find plenty of other men to help her.’
He wondered how many men there had been in Sarah’s life besides Anthony.
There was no reason to think that he was the only one and there must have been other men before her husband died!
Men who she found had been only too willing to look after and help a woman who pleaded with them with eyes as blue as a clear summer sky, but were actually as dark with deceit as Satan himself.
The Marquis’s eyes were hard and his lips were in a tight line as he entered the Saloon.
For a moment he thought that it was empty and Ola had retired to her own cabin. Then he saw that she was curled up on the sofa asleep.
The Marquis had decorated the Saloon in pale green because it seemed an appropriate colour to use at sea. That alone had been revolutionary as most yachts were upholstered in brown leather and it was fashionable to have oak panelling on the cabin walls.
He could not have chosen a colour that was a more effective background for Ola’s fiery red hair.
As the Marquis moved towards her, he saw that her eyelashes were very dark against her cheeks that were still pale from tiredness and in fact, as she slept, she looked very young and vulnerable.
He sat down on the chair opposite her and it struck him that it was not surprising that she was tired seeing what a dramatic day it had been for her yesterday.
Running away at dawn must have been a nerve-racking experience in itself. Then to learn of her cousin’s intentions towards her had been a shock, which was bad enough without the sudden fright of an accident in the fog.
The Marquis had seen far too many accidents with carriage horses not to be aware that Ola was extremely lucky to have escaped unhurt.
Her cousin, who had been driving, had obviously been flung onto the road and it was unlikely, the Marquis thought, that the wound caused by the stone he had fallen on would be his only injury.
Usually in such an accident he would have fractured a limb, while in several cases the Marquis was aware people had broken their necks.
He wondered whether the horses were hurt, then told himself sharply that it was none of his business.
It was the brandy that was responsible for his having foisted himself with Ola and the sooner he was rid of her the better.
Then looking at her he wondered how, after he had put her ashore, she would reach Paris.
A post chaise from Calais would not have been difficult, for it was the usual route taken by travellers and the French with their shrewdness for making money had everything organised to suit the pockets of every class of person visiting their country.
But Bordeaux was a long way from Paris and the Marquis began to think it might, in fact, be impossible for Ola to find a post chaise to take her, even with a frequent change of horses, directly to Paris.
‘I will not concern myself with her – I will not!’ he murmured.
Then he told himself that she was so young, a lady, and as such, used to having servants, relatives, teachers and Governesses looking after her.
‘She will find herself a Courier,’ a critical part of his mind told him and he wondered if a Courier of any repute would take on a woman who was by herself.
Moreover there were Couriers who were known to prey on travellers, charging them exorbitant sums and even being in league with robbers who would relieve them of their luggage and other valuables before abandoning them penniless in some isolated part of the country.
‘Damn her! Why did I ever meet her in the first place?’ the Marquis asked.
As the words were spoken in his mind, Ola opened her eyes.
For a moment she looked at him as if she wondered who he was. Then some memory came back to her and there was a smile on her lips that was very attractive as she sat up saying,
“I fell – asleep. I am ashamed of my indolence when I might have been improving my mind with one of your books.”
“What you were doing was very
He wondered how many men there had been in Sarah’s life besides Anthony.
There was no reason to think that he was the only one and there must have been other men before her husband died!
Men who she found had been only too willing to look after and help a woman who pleaded with them with eyes as blue as a clear summer sky, but were actually as dark with deceit as Satan himself.
The Marquis’s eyes were hard and his lips were in a tight line as he entered the Saloon.
For a moment he thought that it was empty and Ola had retired to her own cabin. Then he saw that she was curled up on the sofa asleep.
The Marquis had decorated the Saloon in pale green because it seemed an appropriate colour to use at sea. That alone had been revolutionary as most yachts were upholstered in brown leather and it was fashionable to have oak panelling on the cabin walls.
He could not have chosen a colour that was a more effective background for Ola’s fiery red hair.
As the Marquis moved towards her, he saw that her eyelashes were very dark against her cheeks that were still pale from tiredness and in fact, as she slept, she looked very young and vulnerable.
He sat down on the chair opposite her and it struck him that it was not surprising that she was tired seeing what a dramatic day it had been for her yesterday.
Running away at dawn must have been a nerve-racking experience in itself. Then to learn of her cousin’s intentions towards her had been a shock, which was bad enough without the sudden fright of an accident in the fog.
The Marquis had seen far too many accidents with carriage horses not to be aware that Ola was extremely lucky to have escaped unhurt.
Her cousin, who had been driving, had obviously been flung onto the road and it was unlikely, the Marquis thought, that the wound caused by the stone he had fallen on would be his only injury.
Usually in such an accident he would have fractured a limb, while in several cases the Marquis was aware people had broken their necks.
He wondered whether the horses were hurt, then told himself sharply that it was none of his business.
It was the brandy that was responsible for his having foisted himself with Ola and the sooner he was rid of her the better.
Then looking at her he wondered how, after he had put her ashore, she would reach Paris.
A post chaise from Calais would not have been difficult, for it was the usual route taken by travellers and the French with their shrewdness for making money had everything organised to suit the pockets of every class of person visiting their country.
But Bordeaux was a long way from Paris and the Marquis began to think it might, in fact, be impossible for Ola to find a post chaise to take her, even with a frequent change of horses, directly to Paris.
‘I will not concern myself with her – I will not!’ he murmured.
Then he told himself that she was so young, a lady, and as such, used to having servants, relatives, teachers and Governesses looking after her.
‘She will find herself a Courier,’ a critical part of his mind told him and he wondered if a Courier of any repute would take on a woman who was by herself.
Moreover there were Couriers who were known to prey on travellers, charging them exorbitant sums and even being in league with robbers who would relieve them of their luggage and other valuables before abandoning them penniless in some isolated part of the country.
‘Damn her! Why did I ever meet her in the first place?’ the Marquis asked.
As the words were spoken in his mind, Ola opened her eyes.
For a moment she looked at him as if she wondered who he was. Then some memory came back to her and there was a smile on her lips that was very attractive as she sat up saying,
“I fell – asleep. I am ashamed of my indolence when I might have been improving my mind with one of your books.”
“What you were doing was very
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