Read Online Desert Song (DeWinter's Song 3) by Constance O'Banyon - Free Book Online Page A
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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burgundy gown and a black bonnet trimmed with dried blue flowers. She was pretty, he thought, but he knew many pretty girls—this one did not appeal to him. Michael could see wisps of red hair poking from beneath the brim of her bonnet—he'd never been partial to red hair.
"I find myself unable to explain what happened, my lady. If only you would—"
"I don't wish to hear anything you have to say, my lord."
He looked past her in exasperation, thinking she didn't deserve his consideration. Never had he met a more disagreeable young woman. "Then please forgive the intrusion, Lady Mallory. I'll wish you a good day."
She turned her back on him and stared out to sea. He had attempted to apologize for his actions and she suddenly felt guilty for behaving so discourteously. What did it matter? They would never meet again after this voyage, and she intended to avoid him whenever possible.
"M'lady," Mrs. Wickett said in shock. "How could you speak so to his lordship? He was attempting to apologize."
Mallory drew in a deep breath of salt air. "I don't care to hear anything he has to say." But she did turn to watch him walk away. His back was straight, his head held at a proud tilt. She wondered if he ever smiled. Surely if he did, he would steal a girl's heart.
She turned back and stared silently out to sea. After a while, she had the feeling someone was staring at her. Glancing up, she met the dark eyes of a man wearing a white robe and a matching burnoose.
The man bowed to her slightly, his eyes never leaving her face. He was obviously a passenger, perhaps an Egyptian returning to his homeland. But why was he watching her so intently?
She turned back to the railing, but she could still feel his eyes on her, and it made her so nervous that she dropped her sunshade.
When it clattered to the deck, the stranger rushed forward to retrieve it for her. "With, your fair skin, you will need this, Lady Mallory," he said in cultured English.
On closer inspection, she saw that he was younger than she'd thought. The man bowed, and then moved away before she could find her voice.
"Well, did you ever!" Mrs. Wickett exclaimed indignantly. "How dare that man speak to you. He was much too familiar. He spoke your name."
Mallory could find nothing disrespectful in the man's manner. "I suppose everyone is aware of our names."
"Well, we shan't welcome the company of the likes of him. I do believe he admires you. We just can't have that. I'll speak to the captain about his actions."
Mallory touched the older woman's arm. "It is a matter of little importance. Besides, his manners were above reproach. You will not speak to the captain about him. It would only cause him trouble."
Mrs. Wickett wanted to insist, but the determined look in Lady Mallory's eyes made her reluctantly agree. "I'll let it go this time. But if he speaks to you again, I shall certainly inform the captain."
Mallory leaned over the railing, watching the foamy spray fan out from the ship. She had already forgotten the incident.
Chapter 7
The night was balmy, and the stars were reflected in the gentle waves, giving the illusion that sea and sky were one. Michael stood on deck, hesitating to enter his cabin. With a troubled mind, he watched silvery foam ride on the waves.
His insides were tied in knots, and he gripped the railing until his knuckles whitened as questions pounded in his mind. What had happened to his father? Would he be able to locate him? What if his father was dead—how would he accept that? How would he tell his mother?
Michael's attention was diverted by the sound of scuffling. He glanced across the deck, trying to see past the shadows cast by the rippling canvases. He heard a muffled cry and moved quickly to the foredeck to investigate.
He saw three men locked in combat. It didn't take him long to assess the situation. It was the Egyptians, and it appeared that two of them had banded together to overcome the third. One of the men held their
"I find myself unable to explain what happened, my lady. If only you would—"
"I don't wish to hear anything you have to say, my lord."
He looked past her in exasperation, thinking she didn't deserve his consideration. Never had he met a more disagreeable young woman. "Then please forgive the intrusion, Lady Mallory. I'll wish you a good day."
She turned her back on him and stared out to sea. He had attempted to apologize for his actions and she suddenly felt guilty for behaving so discourteously. What did it matter? They would never meet again after this voyage, and she intended to avoid him whenever possible.
"M'lady," Mrs. Wickett said in shock. "How could you speak so to his lordship? He was attempting to apologize."
Mallory drew in a deep breath of salt air. "I don't care to hear anything he has to say." But she did turn to watch him walk away. His back was straight, his head held at a proud tilt. She wondered if he ever smiled. Surely if he did, he would steal a girl's heart.
She turned back and stared silently out to sea. After a while, she had the feeling someone was staring at her. Glancing up, she met the dark eyes of a man wearing a white robe and a matching burnoose.
The man bowed to her slightly, his eyes never leaving her face. He was obviously a passenger, perhaps an Egyptian returning to his homeland. But why was he watching her so intently?
She turned back to the railing, but she could still feel his eyes on her, and it made her so nervous that she dropped her sunshade.
When it clattered to the deck, the stranger rushed forward to retrieve it for her. "With, your fair skin, you will need this, Lady Mallory," he said in cultured English.
On closer inspection, she saw that he was younger than she'd thought. The man bowed, and then moved away before she could find her voice.
"Well, did you ever!" Mrs. Wickett exclaimed indignantly. "How dare that man speak to you. He was much too familiar. He spoke your name."
Mallory could find nothing disrespectful in the man's manner. "I suppose everyone is aware of our names."
"Well, we shan't welcome the company of the likes of him. I do believe he admires you. We just can't have that. I'll speak to the captain about his actions."
Mallory touched the older woman's arm. "It is a matter of little importance. Besides, his manners were above reproach. You will not speak to the captain about him. It would only cause him trouble."
Mrs. Wickett wanted to insist, but the determined look in Lady Mallory's eyes made her reluctantly agree. "I'll let it go this time. But if he speaks to you again, I shall certainly inform the captain."
Mallory leaned over the railing, watching the foamy spray fan out from the ship. She had already forgotten the incident.
Chapter 7
The night was balmy, and the stars were reflected in the gentle waves, giving the illusion that sea and sky were one. Michael stood on deck, hesitating to enter his cabin. With a troubled mind, he watched silvery foam ride on the waves.
His insides were tied in knots, and he gripped the railing until his knuckles whitened as questions pounded in his mind. What had happened to his father? Would he be able to locate him? What if his father was dead—how would he accept that? How would he tell his mother?
Michael's attention was diverted by the sound of scuffling. He glanced across the deck, trying to see past the shadows cast by the rippling canvases. He heard a muffled cry and moved quickly to the foredeck to investigate.
He saw three men locked in combat. It didn't take him long to assess the situation. It was the Egyptians, and it appeared that two of them had banded together to overcome the third. One of the men held their
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