Read Online Beloved Castaway by Kathleen Y'Barbo - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kathleen Y'Barbo
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Spanish noble-brat be paid.
“Speak your mind, Isabelle Gayarre.” He cast an offhand glance at the woman before turning his attention to the basket of apples on the table. “Settle this matter so that we may sail.” He reached for the largest of the heap and polished it on the lapel of his frock coat while he glared at her. At least, he hoped he managed a passable glare.
“Sir,” she replied as she seemed to watch the movement of the apple rather than meet his gaze, “I’ve but one thing to say before the matter is settled.”
Josiah rested a boot on the chair and leaned his elbow on his knee. “Then proceed to enlighten me, mademoiselle.” He took a large bite of the sweet red apple. “I await your every word of wisdom like a deer panting for a cool stream.”
“You, sir,” she said, enunciating each word as if he were a lad still in knee pants, “are a thief.”
---
A thief.
Had she actually said the words her mind had so nimbly wrapped around? Isabelle’s blood boiled and heated her skin as it rushed past her ears, rendering her both speechless and deaf. From the looks of the man, she’d said exactly that—or worse.
He choked and threw the remains of the apple against the wall. Pieces of red skin and white flesh exploded to cover the dark surface of the floor. An odd white fleck or two decorated his leather boots and spotted the hem of his black frock coat, but he seemed to resist any urge to wipe them away.
Josiah Carter stood in the midst of the chaos, a man obviously much aggrieved. A man whose wrath she’d grown tired of seeing. Still, perhaps she might have remained silent rather than risking the chance to speak her mind.
Watch him, Izzy. Pray for God to restrain his hand. Ask for protection; ask for peace.
Peace? From whence had that come? Surely there would be no peace between a man of Captain Carter’s reputation and herself.
Isabelle waited for him to strike her, knowing the blow would come quickly once the captain digested her words. Like a fellow wrapped in the fog of a siren’s enchantment, however, Josiah Carter stood transfixed. His fingers twitched, and his face darkened with what had to be rage. Still he did not move.
From nowhere, she felt words bubble into her throat and emerge. “This temper of yours, has it always been so fierce?”
For a moment, her question seemed to disarm him, giving her pause to search the room for a second exit. A cursory examination led her to believe she was well and truly trapped. Where, then, had her fear gone?
“I’ve been swindled, mademoiselle,” he said, enunciating every word carefully. “Would you have me dance a jig in response to your duplicity?”
Duplicity? What sort of merriment did the man think to have with her? It was she who had been swindled, for the gold had obviously been spirited away before she arrived in the room. This charade must be Captain Carter’s way of ascertaining the size of her fortune and her willingness to add more than the original amount to his coffers.
Well, she would have none of it.
“Captain Carter, you have been paid,” she heard herself say as she held the box at arm’s length. “This chest contained the amount you requested. There is no more.”
“So your story remains unchanged.” The rage on his countenance darkened. “And you saw to the disposal of this payment?”
Isabelle pointed to the largest of the trunks now lying opened on the floor. “I placed the traveling case inside that locked chest.”
“And that is where I found it,” the captain said. “It was empty.”
“Empty?” She shook her head. “Impossible.”
But was it? Looking into his angry eyes, she began to wonder. In a backward progression, she walked through the events of the afternoon.
Behind the kitchen at the rear of the house was a traveling trunk, a farewell gift from Emilie. Inside, Emilie had placed a few items of clothing and the deed to a home and a bit of acreage near Clapham.
“Speak your mind, Isabelle Gayarre.” He cast an offhand glance at the woman before turning his attention to the basket of apples on the table. “Settle this matter so that we may sail.” He reached for the largest of the heap and polished it on the lapel of his frock coat while he glared at her. At least, he hoped he managed a passable glare.
“Sir,” she replied as she seemed to watch the movement of the apple rather than meet his gaze, “I’ve but one thing to say before the matter is settled.”
Josiah rested a boot on the chair and leaned his elbow on his knee. “Then proceed to enlighten me, mademoiselle.” He took a large bite of the sweet red apple. “I await your every word of wisdom like a deer panting for a cool stream.”
“You, sir,” she said, enunciating each word as if he were a lad still in knee pants, “are a thief.”
---
A thief.
Had she actually said the words her mind had so nimbly wrapped around? Isabelle’s blood boiled and heated her skin as it rushed past her ears, rendering her both speechless and deaf. From the looks of the man, she’d said exactly that—or worse.
He choked and threw the remains of the apple against the wall. Pieces of red skin and white flesh exploded to cover the dark surface of the floor. An odd white fleck or two decorated his leather boots and spotted the hem of his black frock coat, but he seemed to resist any urge to wipe them away.
Josiah Carter stood in the midst of the chaos, a man obviously much aggrieved. A man whose wrath she’d grown tired of seeing. Still, perhaps she might have remained silent rather than risking the chance to speak her mind.
Watch him, Izzy. Pray for God to restrain his hand. Ask for protection; ask for peace.
Peace? From whence had that come? Surely there would be no peace between a man of Captain Carter’s reputation and herself.
Isabelle waited for him to strike her, knowing the blow would come quickly once the captain digested her words. Like a fellow wrapped in the fog of a siren’s enchantment, however, Josiah Carter stood transfixed. His fingers twitched, and his face darkened with what had to be rage. Still he did not move.
From nowhere, she felt words bubble into her throat and emerge. “This temper of yours, has it always been so fierce?”
For a moment, her question seemed to disarm him, giving her pause to search the room for a second exit. A cursory examination led her to believe she was well and truly trapped. Where, then, had her fear gone?
“I’ve been swindled, mademoiselle,” he said, enunciating every word carefully. “Would you have me dance a jig in response to your duplicity?”
Duplicity? What sort of merriment did the man think to have with her? It was she who had been swindled, for the gold had obviously been spirited away before she arrived in the room. This charade must be Captain Carter’s way of ascertaining the size of her fortune and her willingness to add more than the original amount to his coffers.
Well, she would have none of it.
“Captain Carter, you have been paid,” she heard herself say as she held the box at arm’s length. “This chest contained the amount you requested. There is no more.”
“So your story remains unchanged.” The rage on his countenance darkened. “And you saw to the disposal of this payment?”
Isabelle pointed to the largest of the trunks now lying opened on the floor. “I placed the traveling case inside that locked chest.”
“And that is where I found it,” the captain said. “It was empty.”
“Empty?” She shook her head. “Impossible.”
But was it? Looking into his angry eyes, she began to wonder. In a backward progression, she walked through the events of the afternoon.
Behind the kitchen at the rear of the house was a traveling trunk, a farewell gift from Emilie. Inside, Emilie had placed a few items of clothing and the deed to a home and a bit of acreage near Clapham.
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