Read Online Beauvallet by Georgette Heyer - Free Book Online Page A

salt-tanged. He had no repose; he must be here and there, restless, so charged with vitality that it almost seemed to brim over. See, too, his challenging eyes, wickedly inviting under the down-dropped lids! Shame! Shame that one should know an answering leap of the heart! He would swing past along the deck, a hand on his hip, careless, heedless; one was bound to watch him, willy-nilly. He might stop beside his Master a brief while; his quick, gay speech would be borne back to one in snatches on the wind; one would see him fling out a pointing hand, give a decisive shake to his neat black head, crack some jest to set the Master chuckling, and be off down the companion to mingle amongst his men.
    It seemed they held him in some esteem, no little awe. No good came of an attempt to trifle with Sir Nicholas Beauvallet. He was a leader to love, but one to fear withal. Dona Dominica, catching at new-learned English words, heard stray comments, enough to show her what Beauvallet's men thought of him. They thought him a rare jest, she gathered, and pondered over the strange mentality of these English, who spent their time in laughing. They did not behave thus in Spain.
    And Spain, with its courtly propriety, its etiquette, and its solemn grandeur, grew nearer and ever nearer. Mad days at sea were nearly done now, and adventure was coming to an end. Don Manuel, reclining on his pillows, spoke of duennas; my lady hid a shudder and turned wistful eyes towards Beauvallet. To one reared in the freedom of the New World trammels of the Old would not be welcome. Don Manuel said severely thathe had permitted his daughter too great a license. Faith, the girl thought for herself, was pert, he doubted, and certainly head-strong. As witness her behaviour on board the Santa Maria. A maid surprised by piratical marauders should have stood passive, a frozen statue of martyrdom. A daughter of Spain had no business to kick, and bite, and scratch, or to brandish daggers and spit venom upon her captors. Don Manuel had been shocked indeed, but knew her well enough to forbear comment. He trusted that his sister would find a strict duenna to govern her. He had marriage plans in mind, too, and hinted as much to her. He would see her safely bestowed, he said, and drew a fine picture of her future life. Dona Dominica listened in growing horror, and escaped from her father's cabin to the free air above.
    ‘Oh!’ cried she, ‘are English ladies so hedged about, and guarded, and confined, as we poor Spaniards?’
    They were in colder latitudes, and the wind bit shrewdly. Beauvallet loosened the cloak about his shoulders, and clipped it fast about my lady, so that it fell all about her. ‘Nay, I’ll not confine you, sweet, but I shall know how to guard my treasure, don’t doubt it.’
    She drew the cloak about her, and looked up, wide-eyed. ‘Do you in England set vile duennas to watch your wives?’ she asked.
    He shook his head. ‘We trust them, rather!’
    Her dimples quivered. ‘Oh, almost you persuade me, Sir Nicholas!’ She frowned a warning as his hand flew out towards her. ‘Fie, before your men? I said “almost”, señor. Know that my father plans my marriage.’
    ‘A careful gentleman,’ said Beauvallet. ‘So, faith, do I.’
    ‘If you came, indeed, into Spain you might haply find me wed, señor.’
    A gleam came into his eyes, like a sword, she thought. ‘Might I so?’ he said, and the words demanded an answer.
    She looked away, trembled a little, smiled, frowned, and blushed. ‘N-no,’ she said.
    Too soon the day came that saw Spanish shores to the southward. Don Manuel braved the cold air on deck for a while, and followed the direction of Beauvallet's pointing finger. ‘Thereabouts lies Santander, señor. I shall set you ashore tonight.’
    The day wore swiftly to its close. Dusk came, and my lady watched Maria pack her chests. Maria stowed jewels away in a gold-bound box, and jealously counted each trinket. She could never be at