Read Online Wild Star by Catherine Coulter - Free Book Online Page B

bit tired.” Did she sound the least bit guilty?
    “Then I shall see you to your cabin.”
    She bid good-nights to the other men, and gave Ira her hand. There was no sign of Brent Hammond. She felt relieved and, at the same time, disappointed. Ira entered the cabin with her to see Irene. She was still sleeping, Eileen still sitting motionless beside the bed.
    “Tomorrow, my dear,” he said quietly, and gently kissed her forehead. “Sleep well.”
    Byrony tried to stay still, but couldn’t. She began pacing until she was aware of Eileen’s dark eyes burrowing into her back. Suddenly she grabbed her new cloak, sapphire blue to match her gown, and whispered, “I shall go on deck for a while, Eileen.”
    She needn’t worry about seeing him, she thought. He was more than likely gambling. It was, after all, his profession. She made her way along the wide deck, paying no attention to the gentlemen she passed, who all tipped their hats at her. She found a vacant spot, away from the other passengers, and leaned her elbows on the railing, staring at the calm dark waters.
    “We’ll be passing through the Carquinez Strait soon,” she heard a low deep voice from behind her. “We’ve just come through San Pablo Bay, in case you didn’t know.”
    She whirled about, and her eyes met his throat. Slowly she raised her face until she was looking into his eyes.
    “The Carquinez Strait,” she repeated.
    “Yes, we are now traveling due east, and shortly will be in the Sacramento River.”
    “There are so many rivers and bays and—so much water.”
    “Indeed, it would appear so.”
    “It is a surprise to see you again, Mr. Hammond.”
    A thick black brow arched upward. “You perhaps remembered that I lived in San Francisco. I should say that I am more surprised to see you. You are a long way from San Diego. I see you quickly discovered my name.”
    “Yes, yes, I did. I understand you are opening a saloon in San Francisco?”
    “Yes, I am,” he said, and his eyes glittered. “How lovely you look, ma’am.”
    She grinned. “A bit different from the first time you saw me, I suspect. I’ve tried to avoid flour.”
    “I understand you’ve married one of San Francisco’s wealthiest men.”
    His tone held barely disguised contempt, and she heard it.
    “Ira is rich, so I’m told,” she said.
    “With your looks and guileless charm, I expected nothing less than a rich man. But so old, Mrs. Butler, nearly old enough to have sired you.”
    Why was he angry? She searched his face in the dim light. She said nothing.
    “What, Mrs. Butler? Doesn’t your marriage please you? Have you already discovered that selling your body to a rich man involves less than pleasant duties?”
    “I don’t understand, Mr. Hammond. Why are you—?”
    He cut her off abruptly, slashing his hand through the air in front of her. “There is no need, Mrs. Butler, to pretend anything to me. When I first met you, I thought—Well, no matter. It is not often that a woman is what she appears to be.”
    “And just what did I appear to you to be, sir?”
    “Sweet, untouched, innocent.” The words, honest words from the depths of him, were out before he could stop them.
    “Until you spoke with Jeb Donnally,” she said dully. “I understand now. He’s a filthy old sot, a crony of my father, who is equally despicable. You surprise me, Mr. Hammond. I would have thought that a gambler, a professional gambler, would be more discerning about people.”
    He searched her pale face, wondering at the bitterness in her voice, but he was not to be deterred. “He might be an old fool, but he did tell me that you’d have to search outside San Diego for a rich husband. I gather the Californio’s seed didn’t take root?”
    Without thought, Byrony slapped his face. He grabbed her wrist, feeling the delicate bones grind beneath his fingers.
    “You bastard. You know nothing. How dare you believe what you believe, all based on that old man’s lying