Read Online Desert Song (DeWinter's Song 3) by Constance O'Banyon - Free Book Online
Authors: Constance O'Banyon
Tags: Fiction, Suspense, adventure, Romance, Historical, Adult, Action, Regency, Danger, 19th century, Egypt, ocean, father, sailing, sea voyage, DeWinter Family, Sheikhs, 1840's-50's, DESERT SONG, Lord DeWinter, Captors, Nursing Wounds, Desert Prison, Ship Passenger
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derive some satisfaction from ruining my gowns?"
He dropped the bucket and it clattered to the deck. "But—"
He had never seen eyes that color of blue, and they were sparkling with anger. Her damp red hair lay plastered to her face. The wet bodice clung to her and made her gown transparent. "I—"
"Save me your apologies. I think you are the most despicable man, with an unconventional sense of humor. Why don't you leave me alone?"
He could only stare at her. He could not defend himself, for if he did, the crewman would probably be reprimanded by the captain. He watched the woman turn on her heels and head angrily down the steps to her cabin.
Michael's jaw set in a grim line. What was the matter with that poor, pathetic girl? Did she really believe he was capable of such an ungentlemanly deed? He exchanged a glance with the crewman who was the real culprit.
"I'll tell the lady that it was my doing, m'lord."
"Don't bother. I have a feeling she wouldn't believe you."
When Mallory reached her cabin, she stripped off her wet gown and hung it over her trunk. She grabbed up a towel and began drying her dripping hair. Had that man no sense of honor? she wondered. She should report his conduct, but she doubted the captain would do anything to a man with Lord Michael's influence. She detested Lord Michael—in her mind he was no better than Sir Gerald. Why did he take such delight in humiliating her?
* * *
Mrs. Wickett was complaining of a headache, so Mallory convinced her to take a turn about the deck, certain that the fresh air would be good for her.
When they stepped onto the deck, Mallory drew in a deep breath, allowing the salt air to fill her lungs. Mrs. Wickett dabbed at her face with a damp handkerchief, but her color was better.
The sea was at a flat calm, and the sun was obstructed by heavy clouds. It looked as if it would rain before the day was over.
Mallory tucked an errant red curl beneath her bonnet and stopped at the railing to watch a school of playful dolphins weaving in and out of the water.
A dagger of sunlight pierced the clouds and fell upon the sea, painting it crimson and reminding her of silk rippling in the wind. She gasped at the lovely spectacle.
"It's breathtaking, isn't it?" a masculine voice spoke behind her. "The sea is like a woman and never wears the same face twice. It's always intriguing and mysterious."
Mallory knew before she turned to face the man that it would be Lord Michael. She raised her chin haughtily. "I beg your pardon, sir, were you speaking to me?"
Michael stared into frosty blue eyes. He was unaccustomed to having a woman annoyed with him. He had not really intended to engage her in conversation, but it somehow seemed impolite to pass her by without speaking. "Forgive me if I appear bold, but on shipboard, especially one this small, it's foolish to stand on formality. I am Michael DeWinter." He bowed slightly. "I believe you have a misconception about me."
"My encounters with you always seem to end in disaster for me," Mallory answered. "I do not wish to make your acquaintance."
"I know I appeared guilty this morning. I can only ask you to forgive me."
Mrs. Wickett beamed. "It's always good to see you, m'lord. I told Lady Mallory I couldn't believe you would dash her with water."
He bowed slightly to the little woman, making her smile even brighter. "I'm encouraged by your belief in me.
Even dressed informally in tan-colored trousers and a white ruffled shirt, Mallory thought he was the essence of how the son of a duke should look. He was tall and trim; his features were classic and aristocratic. He was undeniably handsome.
"I know what you did." Mallory said, turning away and glancing back to sea.
"If you would allow me to—" He paused, knowing he could not explain without involving the poor seaman.
She tossed her head and glared at him. "See, you can't explain, can you? You know I saw you with the bucket in your hand."
She was dressed in a simple
He dropped the bucket and it clattered to the deck. "But—"
He had never seen eyes that color of blue, and they were sparkling with anger. Her damp red hair lay plastered to her face. The wet bodice clung to her and made her gown transparent. "I—"
"Save me your apologies. I think you are the most despicable man, with an unconventional sense of humor. Why don't you leave me alone?"
He could only stare at her. He could not defend himself, for if he did, the crewman would probably be reprimanded by the captain. He watched the woman turn on her heels and head angrily down the steps to her cabin.
Michael's jaw set in a grim line. What was the matter with that poor, pathetic girl? Did she really believe he was capable of such an ungentlemanly deed? He exchanged a glance with the crewman who was the real culprit.
"I'll tell the lady that it was my doing, m'lord."
"Don't bother. I have a feeling she wouldn't believe you."
When Mallory reached her cabin, she stripped off her wet gown and hung it over her trunk. She grabbed up a towel and began drying her dripping hair. Had that man no sense of honor? she wondered. She should report his conduct, but she doubted the captain would do anything to a man with Lord Michael's influence. She detested Lord Michael—in her mind he was no better than Sir Gerald. Why did he take such delight in humiliating her?
* * *
Mrs. Wickett was complaining of a headache, so Mallory convinced her to take a turn about the deck, certain that the fresh air would be good for her.
When they stepped onto the deck, Mallory drew in a deep breath, allowing the salt air to fill her lungs. Mrs. Wickett dabbed at her face with a damp handkerchief, but her color was better.
The sea was at a flat calm, and the sun was obstructed by heavy clouds. It looked as if it would rain before the day was over.
Mallory tucked an errant red curl beneath her bonnet and stopped at the railing to watch a school of playful dolphins weaving in and out of the water.
A dagger of sunlight pierced the clouds and fell upon the sea, painting it crimson and reminding her of silk rippling in the wind. She gasped at the lovely spectacle.
"It's breathtaking, isn't it?" a masculine voice spoke behind her. "The sea is like a woman and never wears the same face twice. It's always intriguing and mysterious."
Mallory knew before she turned to face the man that it would be Lord Michael. She raised her chin haughtily. "I beg your pardon, sir, were you speaking to me?"
Michael stared into frosty blue eyes. He was unaccustomed to having a woman annoyed with him. He had not really intended to engage her in conversation, but it somehow seemed impolite to pass her by without speaking. "Forgive me if I appear bold, but on shipboard, especially one this small, it's foolish to stand on formality. I am Michael DeWinter." He bowed slightly. "I believe you have a misconception about me."
"My encounters with you always seem to end in disaster for me," Mallory answered. "I do not wish to make your acquaintance."
"I know I appeared guilty this morning. I can only ask you to forgive me."
Mrs. Wickett beamed. "It's always good to see you, m'lord. I told Lady Mallory I couldn't believe you would dash her with water."
He bowed slightly to the little woman, making her smile even brighter. "I'm encouraged by your belief in me.
Even dressed informally in tan-colored trousers and a white ruffled shirt, Mallory thought he was the essence of how the son of a duke should look. He was tall and trim; his features were classic and aristocratic. He was undeniably handsome.
"I know what you did." Mallory said, turning away and glancing back to sea.
"If you would allow me to—" He paused, knowing he could not explain without involving the poor seaman.
She tossed her head and glared at him. "See, you can't explain, can you? You know I saw you with the bucket in your hand."
She was dressed in a simple
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