Read Online HerOutlandishStranger by Summer Devon - Free Book Online
Authors: Summer Devon
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you here? Why are you in this country, Mr.
White?” Let’s hear your Banbury tale for that question, she thought.
He didn’t disappoint her. “To take care of you, of course.
Didn’t I mention that?”
Walking faster, he pulled a few meters away from her, then
drew out the piece of wood and glanced down at it. She watched his long,
competent fingers touch the wood he so often handled, and she reflected that
whatever peculiar ritual he performed, he seemed to feel the wood as
sensitively as a good pianist knows the keys to his instrument. Somehow his odd
proficiency at the ritual, silently stroking a bit of wood, made him seem less
strange rather than more.
His voice interrupted her thoughts. “Come on, we’ve got to
pay attention to where we’re headed now. I think our man is still with us, but
apparently the good weather’s brought out even more company. There might be
some drunken soldiers or unhappy Spaniards around here. Don’t want to come
face-to-face with them.”
“But we are allies with the Spaniards,” she protested.
“Hmmm.” He sounded dubious. They were tramping up a slight
hill when he stopped, suddenly, and grabbed at her arm. “I think we’ll just
take a quick detour here,” he murmured and suddenly pulled her behind a
boulder. They pressed flat against it, listening to the wind and their
breathing for several minutes. She just nudged his arm, ready to protest at this
strange interruption, when she heard another sound floating on the wind—very
drunken English voices raised in a song. The lyrics, which seemed to be about a
miller’s daughter, were so obscure, likely obscene, she didn’t understand half
of the words.
White leaned close and spoke in a low whisper. His breath
warmed and tickled her ear. “Probably fine for them to spot us since you’re a
fellow Englishwoman. But…hmm. Best not to take the chance since there are a
bunch and they seem to be, um, celebrating. You’re a very attractive woman and
they probably aren’t in the mood to ask if you’re interested or not.”
She felt absurdly pleased that he’d called her attractive
though she wondered why they didn’t simply flag the men down and beg for safe
passage. But then she recalled the hideous times she’d seen drink-maddened
soldiers. She listened to the soldiers’ slurred songs and bellows, and knew Mr.
White had the right of it. Strange Mr. White understood more—though often
less—than she first judged.
Chapter Five
Because of the almost pleasant weather they covered more
miles than he’d expected they would. They slogged through the marshy land,
usually in silence, skirting any possibly occupied structures they spotted and
staying well south of the Tagus River.
Mag and Else would approve of the strong Miss Eliza Wickman.
Funny, now that he was a few thousand miles and several
hundred years away, how clearly he could visualize his mother and sister, even
his brother, and imagine their responses.
“That Liza’s tougher than you, Jazz-boy,” his sister might
say. “And considering how you’re practically normal these days, that’s got to
be mighty tough.”
On uncomfortable days he consoled himself with thinking
about his family’s reaction to his assignment as a DHUy. He couldn’t tell them
about his mission, of course, but he’d been allowed to say he’d been recruited.
They’d surprised him with their warm responses. His mother had given a rare
whoop of joy when he told her he was a DHU agent.
Even his brother had grunted something about “making up for
it all”. That kind of remark was as close as Sun came to hostility—or even
acceptance—of Jazz. Usually, at his best, he was distantly polite. Though no
one had ever said anything directly to him, he once overheard Else tell someone
she suspected Jazz, as a soldier, had killed a woman Sun loved. More than once
Jazz tried to talk to Sun about what had happened.
What would Eliza think he should do about his brother?
Pinner had
White?” Let’s hear your Banbury tale for that question, she thought.
He didn’t disappoint her. “To take care of you, of course.
Didn’t I mention that?”
Walking faster, he pulled a few meters away from her, then
drew out the piece of wood and glanced down at it. She watched his long,
competent fingers touch the wood he so often handled, and she reflected that
whatever peculiar ritual he performed, he seemed to feel the wood as
sensitively as a good pianist knows the keys to his instrument. Somehow his odd
proficiency at the ritual, silently stroking a bit of wood, made him seem less
strange rather than more.
His voice interrupted her thoughts. “Come on, we’ve got to
pay attention to where we’re headed now. I think our man is still with us, but
apparently the good weather’s brought out even more company. There might be
some drunken soldiers or unhappy Spaniards around here. Don’t want to come
face-to-face with them.”
“But we are allies with the Spaniards,” she protested.
“Hmmm.” He sounded dubious. They were tramping up a slight
hill when he stopped, suddenly, and grabbed at her arm. “I think we’ll just
take a quick detour here,” he murmured and suddenly pulled her behind a
boulder. They pressed flat against it, listening to the wind and their
breathing for several minutes. She just nudged his arm, ready to protest at this
strange interruption, when she heard another sound floating on the wind—very
drunken English voices raised in a song. The lyrics, which seemed to be about a
miller’s daughter, were so obscure, likely obscene, she didn’t understand half
of the words.
White leaned close and spoke in a low whisper. His breath
warmed and tickled her ear. “Probably fine for them to spot us since you’re a
fellow Englishwoman. But…hmm. Best not to take the chance since there are a
bunch and they seem to be, um, celebrating. You’re a very attractive woman and
they probably aren’t in the mood to ask if you’re interested or not.”
She felt absurdly pleased that he’d called her attractive
though she wondered why they didn’t simply flag the men down and beg for safe
passage. But then she recalled the hideous times she’d seen drink-maddened
soldiers. She listened to the soldiers’ slurred songs and bellows, and knew Mr.
White had the right of it. Strange Mr. White understood more—though often
less—than she first judged.
Chapter Five
Because of the almost pleasant weather they covered more
miles than he’d expected they would. They slogged through the marshy land,
usually in silence, skirting any possibly occupied structures they spotted and
staying well south of the Tagus River.
Mag and Else would approve of the strong Miss Eliza Wickman.
Funny, now that he was a few thousand miles and several
hundred years away, how clearly he could visualize his mother and sister, even
his brother, and imagine their responses.
“That Liza’s tougher than you, Jazz-boy,” his sister might
say. “And considering how you’re practically normal these days, that’s got to
be mighty tough.”
On uncomfortable days he consoled himself with thinking
about his family’s reaction to his assignment as a DHUy. He couldn’t tell them
about his mission, of course, but he’d been allowed to say he’d been recruited.
They’d surprised him with their warm responses. His mother had given a rare
whoop of joy when he told her he was a DHU agent.
Even his brother had grunted something about “making up for
it all”. That kind of remark was as close as Sun came to hostility—or even
acceptance—of Jazz. Usually, at his best, he was distantly polite. Though no
one had ever said anything directly to him, he once overheard Else tell someone
she suspected Jazz, as a soldier, had killed a woman Sun loved. More than once
Jazz tried to talk to Sun about what had happened.
What would Eliza think he should do about his brother?
Pinner had
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