Read Online Mystic Memories by Gillian Doyle, Susan Leslie Liepitz - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Gillian Doyle, Susan Leslie Liepitz
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will take my meal elsewhere.”
“Where?”
“It is not your concern.”
“But it is my concern. My presence on the Valiant is causing you to give up your bed and table, not to mention worrying your crew over a female on this ship.” She paused, staring at the back of his head as he bent over his task. His black hair was cut in short layers that grew longer at the nape of his neck, curling over the fold of his collar. The style suited him, though he would probably look good with hair of any length.
Little things about him gained her notice in ways far beyond her professional observation. Sure, he was attractive. But she had met plenty of physically appealing men in her line of business without falling for one of them. It didn’t have to be any different with this sea captain. She could maintain her objective distance. And he, she was certain, could be counted on to behave in the manner of a gentleman.
An officer AND a gentleman . Cara smiled to herself, knowing in her own unique way that this man had more honor in his little pinky finger than his 1990s male counterpart.
“We could share the cabin,” she offered.
Captain Masters straightened with a slowness that accentuated every muscle movement beneath his soiled white shirt and dark pants. He turned to her.
“Share, you say?”
She nodded. “I trust you.”
A glint of mischief twinkled in his eyes. “Do you now? And suppose you misjudge me, ma’am?”
“I haven’t. I am rarely wrong about people, Captain. You are a man of your word. And if you give me your word that you will respect my virtue, I will consider myself perfectly safe with you in this cabin.”
“It would not be proper, Mrs. Edwards. You know as well as I.”
She sighed in resignation. The man was more than an officer and a gentleman. He was a Puritan. Or pushing for sainthood.
His piercing gaze unsettled her. Looking for any excuse to turn away from those disturbing eyes, she stepped to the dining table and dropped the clean clothing onto the polished wood surface. The book she’d studied for her role as a sailor had not included information regarding the proper etiquette for a woman on her own in the nineteenth century. As it was, she had certainly crossed the line with her fictitious excuse about stowing away on the Mystic . And wearing men’s pants had to be nothing less than scandalous.
Fingering the cloth beneath her hands, Cara murmured, “I have certainly made a mess of things.”
“Desperate measures would be expected of any mother searching for her child. However, it is unfortunate you did not have a man to send, rather than putting yourself in such grave danger. This is no place for a woman.”
“Where I come from, women are not as sheltered as they are here.”
“And where would that be?”
Cara mentally kicked herself for the casual remark. She had to be more careful to watch her words. Oh, how hard it was to weave a web of lies without being caught in the stickiness of it all. Sometimes her job required playing a game of deceit and secrecy. Now here she was trapped by her own secrets.
“Actually . . . I am from everywhere and nowhere in particular.” She fidgeted with a button on the folded shirt. “My parents were missionaries. I grew up all over the world.”
“Is that how you met Mr. Edwards?”
“Yes, we spent some time in Switzerland, where his family became quite friendly with my parents.”
“I understood you to say he was Swedish.”
Swedish? Or Swiss? Already she was tripping over her own lies! This wasn’t like her at all.
“Y-yes . . . Lars was from Sweden.” Covering her eyes as if overcome by sudden sadness, she allowed her voice to waver just enough to sound tired and brokenhearted. “I’m sorry, Captain. Lars was my whole life. I loved him deeply. At times I can’t contain my grief.”
“I should not have mentioned him.”
“No, it’s all right. I must learn to cope with my loss.”
She sniffed as if holding back a tear.
“Where?”
“It is not your concern.”
“But it is my concern. My presence on the Valiant is causing you to give up your bed and table, not to mention worrying your crew over a female on this ship.” She paused, staring at the back of his head as he bent over his task. His black hair was cut in short layers that grew longer at the nape of his neck, curling over the fold of his collar. The style suited him, though he would probably look good with hair of any length.
Little things about him gained her notice in ways far beyond her professional observation. Sure, he was attractive. But she had met plenty of physically appealing men in her line of business without falling for one of them. It didn’t have to be any different with this sea captain. She could maintain her objective distance. And he, she was certain, could be counted on to behave in the manner of a gentleman.
An officer AND a gentleman . Cara smiled to herself, knowing in her own unique way that this man had more honor in his little pinky finger than his 1990s male counterpart.
“We could share the cabin,” she offered.
Captain Masters straightened with a slowness that accentuated every muscle movement beneath his soiled white shirt and dark pants. He turned to her.
“Share, you say?”
She nodded. “I trust you.”
A glint of mischief twinkled in his eyes. “Do you now? And suppose you misjudge me, ma’am?”
“I haven’t. I am rarely wrong about people, Captain. You are a man of your word. And if you give me your word that you will respect my virtue, I will consider myself perfectly safe with you in this cabin.”
“It would not be proper, Mrs. Edwards. You know as well as I.”
She sighed in resignation. The man was more than an officer and a gentleman. He was a Puritan. Or pushing for sainthood.
His piercing gaze unsettled her. Looking for any excuse to turn away from those disturbing eyes, she stepped to the dining table and dropped the clean clothing onto the polished wood surface. The book she’d studied for her role as a sailor had not included information regarding the proper etiquette for a woman on her own in the nineteenth century. As it was, she had certainly crossed the line with her fictitious excuse about stowing away on the Mystic . And wearing men’s pants had to be nothing less than scandalous.
Fingering the cloth beneath her hands, Cara murmured, “I have certainly made a mess of things.”
“Desperate measures would be expected of any mother searching for her child. However, it is unfortunate you did not have a man to send, rather than putting yourself in such grave danger. This is no place for a woman.”
“Where I come from, women are not as sheltered as they are here.”
“And where would that be?”
Cara mentally kicked herself for the casual remark. She had to be more careful to watch her words. Oh, how hard it was to weave a web of lies without being caught in the stickiness of it all. Sometimes her job required playing a game of deceit and secrecy. Now here she was trapped by her own secrets.
“Actually . . . I am from everywhere and nowhere in particular.” She fidgeted with a button on the folded shirt. “My parents were missionaries. I grew up all over the world.”
“Is that how you met Mr. Edwards?”
“Yes, we spent some time in Switzerland, where his family became quite friendly with my parents.”
“I understood you to say he was Swedish.”
Swedish? Or Swiss? Already she was tripping over her own lies! This wasn’t like her at all.
“Y-yes . . . Lars was from Sweden.” Covering her eyes as if overcome by sudden sadness, she allowed her voice to waver just enough to sound tired and brokenhearted. “I’m sorry, Captain. Lars was my whole life. I loved him deeply. At times I can’t contain my grief.”
“I should not have mentioned him.”
“No, it’s all right. I must learn to cope with my loss.”
She sniffed as if holding back a tear.
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