Read Online Captive Innocence by Fern Michaels - Free Book Online Page B

with “the Baron,” as he liked to call himself, when the time came. For now, she had more urgent problems: the sudden, unexpected appearance of the buccaneer. This was a new life with new opportunities, and she meant to make the most of it! Still, the buccaneer occupied her thoughts as she dressed.
    Enough of all those dark thoughts. This was a new life with new ideas. With this new life, the first thing she had to see to was her person and her hair.
    She finished her hair in the popular style of the day. Her coif of golden curls, pulled back from her smooth brow, Grecian style, was swirled into huge coils at the crown of her head. The style accentuated her graceful, long neck and softly rounded shoulders.
    Choosing a gown of fine silk in a dark amber color, she held it close to her body and admired her reflection in the long looking glass behind the armoire door. Its rich, gleaming folds were perfect for an evening of entertainment. Excitement eliminated the need for rouge, and she applied only a touch of pomade to her full mouth. Would he notice her? How could he help but be aware of her?
    Gathering up her reticule and cashmere shawl, she stole a final glance in the glass. Unashamedly, she appraised herself, liking what she saw. She smiled, remembering Mrs. Quince interpreting the native women’s chatter and saying they called her golden girl. She thought perhaps she should feel conspicuous for her fairness in a land where most everyone was dark complected, but she recalled the eyes of the buccaneer on her and she tingled deliciously under the remembered feel of her body against his.
    Pulling herself from her thoughts, she turned away from the glass.
    â€œYoohoo, Royall, are you dressed?”
    â€œYes, Mrs. Quince, I’m ready to go.” The door opened, revealing Mrs. Quince sitting primly in her wheelchair. “I think I’m finally able to maneuver this dratted contraption,” Rosalie Quince sighed as she worked the oversized wheels with the palms of her hands. A handsome woman, she had chosen a deep burgundy silk gown that complemented her rounded figure.
    â€œRoyall, you look absolutely breathtaking. You’ll turn every head when we enter the dining room. I hope you’re prepared to parry the notorious flirtatious natures of our Brazilian gentlemen.”
    Royall pushed Mrs. Quince’s chair out of her room and onto the promenade deck, laughing over Mrs. Quince’s amusing observations about the amorous nature of the Latin.
    The dining hall was full to brimming when they arrived. “Oh, dear, I underestimated the number of passengers who will be having dinner here the evening of the sail. I hope we won’t have to wait too long for a table. I’m famished.”
    Royall was quite content to wait, however hungry she felt. The dining hall was sumptuous, approaching the point of garishness. Deep red carpeting, gilt-edge picture frames of questionable taste, floods of gloriously gowned women and scrupulously tailored men graced the hall. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the tops of the tables, causing irridescent shimmers to reflect from the jewels worn at the ears and throats of the ladies. After the sterile efficiency of the Victoria, which had brought them to Brazil, it was a welcome sight to Royall’s eyes to feast on the opulence and splendor of the Brazilia d’Oro.
    A heavy-set, stern-looking maitre d’ approached them.
    â€œIf you will permit, mesdames, it will be an hour before you can be seated at a table. Perhaps you would like dinner served to you in your rooms?”
    Mrs. Quince turned to look at Royall to view her reaction. Seeing the disappointment on her face, she answered, “No, we’ll wait. However hungry I am, I would not care to disappoint my young friend on her first night on an Amazonian river steamer.”
    The maitre d’s stern look vanished, and he braved a small smile in Royall’s direction. He offered