Read Online Lord of Temptation by Lorraine Heath - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lorraine Heath
Ads: Link
last.
A t the bottom of the steps, Tristan nearly ran into her maid. She was carrying a parasol, and a quick glance told him that it was finely made. For her lady, then.
For the first time, he gave the maid a closer inspection. She wasn’t a beauty, not like her mistress, but she possessed a prettiness that he suspected drew attention. And something else about her niggled at his mind. “Have we met before?”
“My brother, John Harper, served under you. He recommended your ship for the journey.”
“And me along with it, I suppose.”
Her blush enhanced the sparkle in her eyes. “He vowed you would not take advantage of my lady.”
“His vow is not mine to keep.”
“But you won’t take advantage, will you?” she asked with a stubborn set to her lips.
“You’re both safe from unwanted advances while aboard my ship.”
She smiled, and he realized she was prettier than he initially thought.
“John’s married now,” she informed him, as though of a sudden they were friends.
“Yes, so he mentioned when he informed me that he would no longer be serving me. Seems his wife wanted to chain him to port.”
“They wanted to be together. I don’t think that’s so awful. He’s happy.”
As well as a marvelous teller of tales with a tendency toward exaggeration. Tristan now had an idea of who might have told Anne that he was a hero. John didn’t believe in allowing facts to ruin a good story.
“He’s employed by a merchant now, has a respectable income, and is quite settled,” Martha continued on.
Tristan fought not to shudder. He hired only unmarried men—not hard to find on the docks. During a storm, he didn’t want a man worrying that he might be leaving behind a widow. Women didn’t understand wanderlust. In his experience, marriage and a life at sea were a volatile combination, leaving everyone unhappy. He certainly intended to never take a wife.
His uncle had forced him to run. No one was ever going to force him into anything again.
When he reached his cabin, the first thing he noticed was that it already smelled of her, of Anne. Lavender and citrus mingling about. Everything was tidy, her trunk closed. He was tempted to riffle through it, see what he could discover about her. It seemed only fair.
Everything about him was visible to her. The books he enjoyed. The sturdy furniture he preferred. The liquor he favored. The wooden chest set he’d carved with his own hands. Even the globe for Rafe that he’d made during his last voyage—a gift he hadn’t yet given to his brother because he wasn’t certain how it would be received. Besides it wasn’t exactly perfectly round. Rather it was a lopsided view of the world that tended to roll until the north and south poles were east and west poles. He needed to make a proper stand for it. He would address that during his next voyage.
He spent an hour attempting to study his charts before returning topside. He wanted to see her again, but according to Jenkins, the breeze proved too much for her parasol. She and her maid had retreated below deck, to the cabin he’d had prepared for the servant. He was disappointed. He should have ensured that she understood she was always welcome in his cabin, even when he was there. He imagined what it would be like to look up from his desk and see her sitting in a chair near one of the windows. Domestic. He shook off the thought. There was no room for domesticity aboard a ship.
He made his way to the quarterdeck. Mouse had cleared away all evidence that she’d been with him for breakfast. The lad was good at keeping things neat and tidy. Tristan wondered if she’d finished eating the orange. He thought he might never taste another without recalling the joy of her laughter as the juice burst forth, surprising her with its abundance.
He leaned back against the railing and crossed his arms over his chest. They had a strong wind filling the sails. They were making good time. England was no longer visible. They
A t the bottom of the steps, Tristan nearly ran into her maid. She was carrying a parasol, and a quick glance told him that it was finely made. For her lady, then.
For the first time, he gave the maid a closer inspection. She wasn’t a beauty, not like her mistress, but she possessed a prettiness that he suspected drew attention. And something else about her niggled at his mind. “Have we met before?”
“My brother, John Harper, served under you. He recommended your ship for the journey.”
“And me along with it, I suppose.”
Her blush enhanced the sparkle in her eyes. “He vowed you would not take advantage of my lady.”
“His vow is not mine to keep.”
“But you won’t take advantage, will you?” she asked with a stubborn set to her lips.
“You’re both safe from unwanted advances while aboard my ship.”
She smiled, and he realized she was prettier than he initially thought.
“John’s married now,” she informed him, as though of a sudden they were friends.
“Yes, so he mentioned when he informed me that he would no longer be serving me. Seems his wife wanted to chain him to port.”
“They wanted to be together. I don’t think that’s so awful. He’s happy.”
As well as a marvelous teller of tales with a tendency toward exaggeration. Tristan now had an idea of who might have told Anne that he was a hero. John didn’t believe in allowing facts to ruin a good story.
“He’s employed by a merchant now, has a respectable income, and is quite settled,” Martha continued on.
Tristan fought not to shudder. He hired only unmarried men—not hard to find on the docks. During a storm, he didn’t want a man worrying that he might be leaving behind a widow. Women didn’t understand wanderlust. In his experience, marriage and a life at sea were a volatile combination, leaving everyone unhappy. He certainly intended to never take a wife.
His uncle had forced him to run. No one was ever going to force him into anything again.
When he reached his cabin, the first thing he noticed was that it already smelled of her, of Anne. Lavender and citrus mingling about. Everything was tidy, her trunk closed. He was tempted to riffle through it, see what he could discover about her. It seemed only fair.
Everything about him was visible to her. The books he enjoyed. The sturdy furniture he preferred. The liquor he favored. The wooden chest set he’d carved with his own hands. Even the globe for Rafe that he’d made during his last voyage—a gift he hadn’t yet given to his brother because he wasn’t certain how it would be received. Besides it wasn’t exactly perfectly round. Rather it was a lopsided view of the world that tended to roll until the north and south poles were east and west poles. He needed to make a proper stand for it. He would address that during his next voyage.
He spent an hour attempting to study his charts before returning topside. He wanted to see her again, but according to Jenkins, the breeze proved too much for her parasol. She and her maid had retreated below deck, to the cabin he’d had prepared for the servant. He was disappointed. He should have ensured that she understood she was always welcome in his cabin, even when he was there. He imagined what it would be like to look up from his desk and see her sitting in a chair near one of the windows. Domestic. He shook off the thought. There was no room for domesticity aboard a ship.
He made his way to the quarterdeck. Mouse had cleared away all evidence that she’d been with him for breakfast. The lad was good at keeping things neat and tidy. Tristan wondered if she’d finished eating the orange. He thought he might never taste another without recalling the joy of her laughter as the juice burst forth, surprising her with its abundance.
He leaned back against the railing and crossed his arms over his chest. They had a strong wind filling the sails. They were making good time. England was no longer visible. They
Similar Books
