Read Online A Wild Yearning by Penelope Williamson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Penelope Williamson
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brat?"
Delia gave him a demure smile and took a dainty, most ladylike sip of the ale. She would show Tyler Savitch she could behave like a proper lady if she put her mind to it.
"I came to Boston for the purpose of searching out a woman ornery enough to be a wife," Ty told his grandfather, grinning provokingly at Delia.
Sir Patrick's brows soared up again and his fierce gray eyes fastened onto Delia's blushing face, but he made no comment.
"Also, I've come to hire a preacher for the settlement. And I had heard about this new smallpox inoculation of Cotton Mather's," Ty went on amicably. "I wanted to see for myself the results of his experiments."
Sir Patrick snorted. "I don't hold with these inoculations. We mustn't interfere with God's handiwork. If God wishes to visit a man with smallpox, He must have His way."
"You'd feel differently if the disease came calling on you. The epidemic hasn't reached The Maine yet, and I'm hoping to convince the folks of Merrymeeting and the other settle—"
"Merrymeeting, bah!" The old man thumped his slippered foot on the floor. "Even the name of it sounds like a fool's paradise. That useless medical degree wasn't the only thing you acquired in Edinburgh. You picked up a taste for expensive things and even more expensive women. I can't picture you freezing your arse off in one of those miserable log houses during the winter and with no one to keep you warm at night but a squaw—" Sir Patrick cut himself off, his eyes straying to Delia. She smiled so sweetly at him, he blinked.
But Ty was oblivious of this exchange. He threw himself down into the chair opposite Delia's. Even then he couldn't stay still, crossing his legs to swing one foot back and forth, tapping his fingers on the chair arm. "I've managed to live quite happily there for two years now," he said. "And if you're worried about my expensive tastes, I'm the only physician from Wells to Port Royal and I'm well-compensated for my services."
"Well-compensated, are you? Ha!" Sir Patrick flapped his hand. "Do you live like this in that godforsaken settlement, eh? Answer me that."
Ty pushed himself back to his feet. "I don't want to live like this. Especially if the price is human bondage and misery."
Sir Patrick's eyes followed his grandson as he paced the room, and Delia detected a note of desperation behind their glazed hardness. "Now you listen to me, Ty. I've let you sow your wild oats and I've given you a chance to get this fascination with the wilderness out of your system. But I'm not getting any younger, so you're going to stop all this foolishness this very day and you're going to take over the running of the company. I need you. You're all I've got and you owe me, boy."
Ty jerked around, his face dark and tight with anger. "I owe you nothing. Christ, what in God's great world makes you think I would agree to set one foot in Graham Shipping?" he bellowed at the old man. "Why can't you understand? I abominate what you do."
Sir Patrick's head flung up and his hard, gray eyes blazed. "You dare to criticize me! You were nothing more than a naked, heathen savage when I found you that day ten years ago." He turned and flung out his arms, appealing to a wide-eyed Delia. "Why, he was no better than a slave himself!"
Ty's jaw clamped shut and he spoke through his teeth. "That's a lie and you know it. You had to force me back into your world. I had a family and a life and—"
"Aye, aye, right decent folk they were," Sir Patrick said, sarcasm oozing from his voice, and he spoke to Delia as if she were the one he had to convince. "Barely sixteen he was when I found him, and already he'd lifted his share of scalps. They had taken him captive, a boy of six, and made him one of them, made him into a bloody savage, and killed... killed..."
Sudden tears filled Sir Patrick's eyes, and he turned to look at the portrait above his head. It was of a delicate, ephemeral-looking young woman standing with her hand on the back of a chair
Delia gave him a demure smile and took a dainty, most ladylike sip of the ale. She would show Tyler Savitch she could behave like a proper lady if she put her mind to it.
"I came to Boston for the purpose of searching out a woman ornery enough to be a wife," Ty told his grandfather, grinning provokingly at Delia.
Sir Patrick's brows soared up again and his fierce gray eyes fastened onto Delia's blushing face, but he made no comment.
"Also, I've come to hire a preacher for the settlement. And I had heard about this new smallpox inoculation of Cotton Mather's," Ty went on amicably. "I wanted to see for myself the results of his experiments."
Sir Patrick snorted. "I don't hold with these inoculations. We mustn't interfere with God's handiwork. If God wishes to visit a man with smallpox, He must have His way."
"You'd feel differently if the disease came calling on you. The epidemic hasn't reached The Maine yet, and I'm hoping to convince the folks of Merrymeeting and the other settle—"
"Merrymeeting, bah!" The old man thumped his slippered foot on the floor. "Even the name of it sounds like a fool's paradise. That useless medical degree wasn't the only thing you acquired in Edinburgh. You picked up a taste for expensive things and even more expensive women. I can't picture you freezing your arse off in one of those miserable log houses during the winter and with no one to keep you warm at night but a squaw—" Sir Patrick cut himself off, his eyes straying to Delia. She smiled so sweetly at him, he blinked.
But Ty was oblivious of this exchange. He threw himself down into the chair opposite Delia's. Even then he couldn't stay still, crossing his legs to swing one foot back and forth, tapping his fingers on the chair arm. "I've managed to live quite happily there for two years now," he said. "And if you're worried about my expensive tastes, I'm the only physician from Wells to Port Royal and I'm well-compensated for my services."
"Well-compensated, are you? Ha!" Sir Patrick flapped his hand. "Do you live like this in that godforsaken settlement, eh? Answer me that."
Ty pushed himself back to his feet. "I don't want to live like this. Especially if the price is human bondage and misery."
Sir Patrick's eyes followed his grandson as he paced the room, and Delia detected a note of desperation behind their glazed hardness. "Now you listen to me, Ty. I've let you sow your wild oats and I've given you a chance to get this fascination with the wilderness out of your system. But I'm not getting any younger, so you're going to stop all this foolishness this very day and you're going to take over the running of the company. I need you. You're all I've got and you owe me, boy."
Ty jerked around, his face dark and tight with anger. "I owe you nothing. Christ, what in God's great world makes you think I would agree to set one foot in Graham Shipping?" he bellowed at the old man. "Why can't you understand? I abominate what you do."
Sir Patrick's head flung up and his hard, gray eyes blazed. "You dare to criticize me! You were nothing more than a naked, heathen savage when I found you that day ten years ago." He turned and flung out his arms, appealing to a wide-eyed Delia. "Why, he was no better than a slave himself!"
Ty's jaw clamped shut and he spoke through his teeth. "That's a lie and you know it. You had to force me back into your world. I had a family and a life and—"
"Aye, aye, right decent folk they were," Sir Patrick said, sarcasm oozing from his voice, and he spoke to Delia as if she were the one he had to convince. "Barely sixteen he was when I found him, and already he'd lifted his share of scalps. They had taken him captive, a boy of six, and made him one of them, made him into a bloody savage, and killed... killed..."
Sudden tears filled Sir Patrick's eyes, and he turned to look at the portrait above his head. It was of a delicate, ephemeral-looking young woman standing with her hand on the back of a chair
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