headache doing that. I’ve told you before, I’m not taking you along.” He was frowning intently at her, obviously unmoved. For a moment she thought he might have developed a tic, for his lips were twitching.
She decided to try to buy him off again. She bent over and drew up the hem of her once lovely ice-blue gown. Like her slippers, it was hopelessly ruined. A good third of a yard from the hem up was stained by mud and water. Even more disturbing, the weight of the five gold pieces that had been sewn inside her underskirt felt suspiciously lighter.
“Oh, no!”
He stepped close, bending down to see what she was upset about.
“There’s a rip in the hem.” She moaned as she held the edge of the undergarment up for closer inspection. “I’ve only one gold piece left.”
Working the remaining coin along the hem, she pushed it over to the tear and slipped it out. It shone brightly, the only sparkle in the dim light and squalor.
“Take this in exchange for guiding me upriver as far as you can.”
The sight of the coin surprised him, she could see that. He actually seemed to be considering her offer. Jemma stared at the coin in her palm, wondering how she was going to survive after she turned all of her money over to this man. It was one thing to run off with enough gold to finance a grand adventure, but it was quite another to set out virtually penniless. After two hours and as many attacks on her person, she was beginning to question the idea of heading anywhere but toward safety.
There was still time to confess the entire truth to Boone and have him hire someone to take her to the Moreau plantation. But what if the Moreaus tried to force her to go through with the marriage?
Think of the adventure, Jemma gal. Don’t turn back now
.
Her grandfather’s voice again. She practically groaned aloud. She really would be letting Grandpa Hall down if she faltered now. Things were bound to get better.
Hunter Boone was staring down at the gold piece. He looked as wet and tired as she felt. He didn’t appear to be a man who could afford to turn down her offer.
“Well?” she pressed. “Will you do it?”
Hunter sighed, mentally tallying what it would take to outfit the girl for the journey and how much he would have left over in the bargain. Perhaps enough to by Nette a whole bolt of new cloth for her quilting. Lately he had done little enough for the widow woman who cooked and cleaned for him and all the river travelers who stopped at the tavern and trading post at Sandy Shoals. Then too, Nette had also been raising Lucy since Amelia had left him. The old woman deserved a little surprise.
He glanced up and caught St. Theresa watching him closely and thought he saw something in her eyes he hadn’t seen all evening—a trace of fear. The idea that she might be frightened moved him more than any of her silly eyelash wiggling or the sight of the money. He shook himself like a great bear, but it didn’t dispel the concern he was beginning to feel, no matter how hard he tried to fight it.
He knew himself well enough to know that he couldn’t leave St. Theresa to the mercy of just anyone who happened along. Not after kissing her. That kiss had been enough to convince him that she wasn’t the whore he had first suspected her to be. This girl had no idea
what
to do when a man asked for a kiss, and she wasn’t a good enough liar
or
actress to have carried off such complete innocence.
Again he thought of Lucy. He hoped to God someone would see fit to take care of her if she were ever stranded and in need of help. Someone trustworthy. Someone like him.
It made him mad as hell for even contemplating hauling the girl upriver. He should have walked away when she first approached him. He should know better by now.
If he took her along, it would be for the gold piece she offered and what he could buy with it. It certainly wouldn’t be because she had fluttered her lashes at him or because, if he let himself, he might
She decided to try to buy him off again. She bent over and drew up the hem of her once lovely ice-blue gown. Like her slippers, it was hopelessly ruined. A good third of a yard from the hem up was stained by mud and water. Even more disturbing, the weight of the five gold pieces that had been sewn inside her underskirt felt suspiciously lighter.
“Oh, no!”
He stepped close, bending down to see what she was upset about.
“There’s a rip in the hem.” She moaned as she held the edge of the undergarment up for closer inspection. “I’ve only one gold piece left.”
Working the remaining coin along the hem, she pushed it over to the tear and slipped it out. It shone brightly, the only sparkle in the dim light and squalor.
“Take this in exchange for guiding me upriver as far as you can.”
The sight of the coin surprised him, she could see that. He actually seemed to be considering her offer. Jemma stared at the coin in her palm, wondering how she was going to survive after she turned all of her money over to this man. It was one thing to run off with enough gold to finance a grand adventure, but it was quite another to set out virtually penniless. After two hours and as many attacks on her person, she was beginning to question the idea of heading anywhere but toward safety.
There was still time to confess the entire truth to Boone and have him hire someone to take her to the Moreau plantation. But what if the Moreaus tried to force her to go through with the marriage?
Think of the adventure, Jemma gal. Don’t turn back now
.
Her grandfather’s voice again. She practically groaned aloud. She really would be letting Grandpa Hall down if she faltered now. Things were bound to get better.
Hunter Boone was staring down at the gold piece. He looked as wet and tired as she felt. He didn’t appear to be a man who could afford to turn down her offer.
“Well?” she pressed. “Will you do it?”
Hunter sighed, mentally tallying what it would take to outfit the girl for the journey and how much he would have left over in the bargain. Perhaps enough to by Nette a whole bolt of new cloth for her quilting. Lately he had done little enough for the widow woman who cooked and cleaned for him and all the river travelers who stopped at the tavern and trading post at Sandy Shoals. Then too, Nette had also been raising Lucy since Amelia had left him. The old woman deserved a little surprise.
He glanced up and caught St. Theresa watching him closely and thought he saw something in her eyes he hadn’t seen all evening—a trace of fear. The idea that she might be frightened moved him more than any of her silly eyelash wiggling or the sight of the money. He shook himself like a great bear, but it didn’t dispel the concern he was beginning to feel, no matter how hard he tried to fight it.
He knew himself well enough to know that he couldn’t leave St. Theresa to the mercy of just anyone who happened along. Not after kissing her. That kiss had been enough to convince him that she wasn’t the whore he had first suspected her to be. This girl had no idea
what
to do when a man asked for a kiss, and she wasn’t a good enough liar
or
actress to have carried off such complete innocence.
Again he thought of Lucy. He hoped to God someone would see fit to take care of her if she were ever stranded and in need of help. Someone trustworthy. Someone like him.
It made him mad as hell for even contemplating hauling the girl upriver. He should have walked away when she first approached him. He should know better by now.
If he took her along, it would be for the gold piece she offered and what he could buy with it. It certainly wouldn’t be because she had fluttered her lashes at him or because, if he let himself, he might
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