Read Online Come Be My Love by Patricia Watters - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Patricia Watters
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"Thank you, Mr. Gambitz . We won't be taking up any more of your time."
Outside, Sarah quietly fumed, her anger rising when she spotted Jon's town coach coming toward them, and Jon inside. When she and Esther had been let off at the foot of Yates Street, and Esther had given the coachman instructions to come for them in two hours, Sarah had not expected Jon to join them for the ride home. Nor did she want him to. She had absolutely nothing to say to him. The coach pulled to a halt and the door swung open.
***
Jon stepped down from the coach. "Good afternoon, ladies," he said, his eyes on Sarah. Looking at her, dressed so modestly in her high-necked frock, he found it difficult to associate the demure lady she was now with the doxy in the décolleté gown, or the libertine in the bloomer costume. He wasn't sure which Sarah Ashley concerned him most. Each was beautiful. Each was dangerous. The doxy could see to his carnal needs while leading him to the gates of hell. The bloomer-clad libertine could turn his colony topsy turvy . And the demure lady facing him now could have him entertaining thoughts of marriage. Considering the alternatives, the doxy posed the least threat, and she was the one he most needed at the moment.
"So, have you ladies completed your shopping?" he asked lightly, aware of the stunning green eyes coldly appraising him. Obviously, Miss Ashley knew what some of his men had been up to, and she was miffed.
She moistened her lips. "Actually, I was introducing myself to the merchants, hoping that, unlike you and your venerable council, they were not pigheaded, narrow-minded parochials . But I see your influence precedes me."
Jon's gaze meandered over her jaunty bonnet with its quaking ostrich plumes, her delicate face blooming with a rosy hue, the lace hugging her slender neck. She was one delectable little chit. A slow smile tugged at his lips. "If it will be of any help," he said, "I'll see what I can do."
"What you can do?" Sarah said, nervously fluttering her lashes. "I was under the impression that you were the problem."
"I'm only trying to show you that what you are seeking is not in your best interest."
"And you presume to know what is?"
Jon shrugged. "I know that women are far better off when letting men tend to the rigors of earning a living."
"That, Governor, is utter and senseless twaddle," Sarah said. "You expect a woman to be a serf, dependent on her liege lord for survival."
As she raised her chin to confront him, Jon caught the flare in her eyes, the bright afternoon light turning them a rich, golden-green, like the color of fresh spring moss. "No one expects a woman to be a serf," he replied. "But if she assumes the responsibilities of filling the larder and running the government, what are we men to do? Stay home and tend the hearth and raise the children? Isn't that a bit ludicrous?"
"Perhaps, from your narrow viewpoint," Sarah said. "But the reality is, without the dignity of employment in whatever field she finds suitable to maintain health and happiness and satisfy her mind and body, a woman soon falls into a state of listlessness and insipidity, her aspirations for nobler destinies crushed."
Jon closed a hand on her arm. "What a splendid pack of rubbish that is," he said. "Don't you think you're overdramatizing?"
"I'm only trying to get my point across and demonstrate the injustice of your man-made laws. And will you please release my arm!"
Jon reached for her other arm and pulled her toward him as a rush of water flew from a window above, barely missing her. She braced her hands on his chest and looked up at him. "What were you saying, Miss Ashley?" he asked, his lips close to hers, his thumbs lightly stroking her arms as he gazed down at her.
Holding his gaze, she looked up at him, and said, "I was talking about–" she paused and blinked several times, brows pinched, as if she were unable to recall what she'd been saying.
Jon eyed her with amusement. "Have you forgotten
Outside, Sarah quietly fumed, her anger rising when she spotted Jon's town coach coming toward them, and Jon inside. When she and Esther had been let off at the foot of Yates Street, and Esther had given the coachman instructions to come for them in two hours, Sarah had not expected Jon to join them for the ride home. Nor did she want him to. She had absolutely nothing to say to him. The coach pulled to a halt and the door swung open.
***
Jon stepped down from the coach. "Good afternoon, ladies," he said, his eyes on Sarah. Looking at her, dressed so modestly in her high-necked frock, he found it difficult to associate the demure lady she was now with the doxy in the décolleté gown, or the libertine in the bloomer costume. He wasn't sure which Sarah Ashley concerned him most. Each was beautiful. Each was dangerous. The doxy could see to his carnal needs while leading him to the gates of hell. The bloomer-clad libertine could turn his colony topsy turvy . And the demure lady facing him now could have him entertaining thoughts of marriage. Considering the alternatives, the doxy posed the least threat, and she was the one he most needed at the moment.
"So, have you ladies completed your shopping?" he asked lightly, aware of the stunning green eyes coldly appraising him. Obviously, Miss Ashley knew what some of his men had been up to, and she was miffed.
She moistened her lips. "Actually, I was introducing myself to the merchants, hoping that, unlike you and your venerable council, they were not pigheaded, narrow-minded parochials . But I see your influence precedes me."
Jon's gaze meandered over her jaunty bonnet with its quaking ostrich plumes, her delicate face blooming with a rosy hue, the lace hugging her slender neck. She was one delectable little chit. A slow smile tugged at his lips. "If it will be of any help," he said, "I'll see what I can do."
"What you can do?" Sarah said, nervously fluttering her lashes. "I was under the impression that you were the problem."
"I'm only trying to show you that what you are seeking is not in your best interest."
"And you presume to know what is?"
Jon shrugged. "I know that women are far better off when letting men tend to the rigors of earning a living."
"That, Governor, is utter and senseless twaddle," Sarah said. "You expect a woman to be a serf, dependent on her liege lord for survival."
As she raised her chin to confront him, Jon caught the flare in her eyes, the bright afternoon light turning them a rich, golden-green, like the color of fresh spring moss. "No one expects a woman to be a serf," he replied. "But if she assumes the responsibilities of filling the larder and running the government, what are we men to do? Stay home and tend the hearth and raise the children? Isn't that a bit ludicrous?"
"Perhaps, from your narrow viewpoint," Sarah said. "But the reality is, without the dignity of employment in whatever field she finds suitable to maintain health and happiness and satisfy her mind and body, a woman soon falls into a state of listlessness and insipidity, her aspirations for nobler destinies crushed."
Jon closed a hand on her arm. "What a splendid pack of rubbish that is," he said. "Don't you think you're overdramatizing?"
"I'm only trying to get my point across and demonstrate the injustice of your man-made laws. And will you please release my arm!"
Jon reached for her other arm and pulled her toward him as a rush of water flew from a window above, barely missing her. She braced her hands on his chest and looked up at him. "What were you saying, Miss Ashley?" he asked, his lips close to hers, his thumbs lightly stroking her arms as he gazed down at her.
Holding his gaze, she looked up at him, and said, "I was talking about–" she paused and blinked several times, brows pinched, as if she were unable to recall what she'd been saying.
Jon eyed her with amusement. "Have you forgotten
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