She grimaced, remembering how humiliated Kaspar had been by her flippant refusal. She would have to humble herself to have any chance with him. But perhaps with a heartfelt apology, she could persuade him to propose to her again.
Maggie took advantage of the morning’s low tide and filled her casks to overflowing with the best shellfish she couldharvest, putting aside a special selection to thank the gargoyle for standing up for her when she needed it. She’d rarely seen him leave his post at the gate for any reason, so his swift, fearless intervention and obvious concern had left her humbled.
Why had he chosen to help her? He didn’t regularly rescue humans from their own trouble.
She was a little ashamed of her plan to beg the same tormenters for forgiveness when he’d done her such a favor by running them off. What did it say about her character that she’d marry a man who’d treated a kitten so badly? She had her reasons for overlooking it, but part of her wanted the gargoyle’s good opinion.
She needed both hands to pull her heavy cart, so the kitten rode in the pocket of her apron to town. The gargoyle crouched, day-frozen, above the gate, his bulky shoulders bunched forward like he could launch off his perch at any moment. His stony eyes appeared open and intently focused on her, though he likely slept.
She waved at him anyway when she passed through the gate, just in case he could see her, and somehow it seemed like a little of his strength seeped into her.
She suspected she’d need it to face what lay ahead.
“Is Kaspar here?” she asked Walther after she’d unloaded her casks at the tavern and set up her table by the bar. He jerked his head toward the back corner, where a knot of men clustered around a table. She spotted Kaspar’s straw-colored head among them, a stack of coins at his elbow. Most of the others she recognized from his crew.
She untangled the unruly kitten from her hair and lifted it from her shoulder. “Do you mind watching him for a few minutes?” she asked.
“Course not,” Walther said, tucking the tiny cat into the crook of his arm. It immediately attacked his hairy forearms, clawing at the golden strands.
Satisfied her pet would be well-tended, she swallowed her pride and dried her hands on her apron, feeling like a gambler herself as she approached Kaspar’s card game. The odds were against her. His face darkened when she drew near, so she shot him her sunniest smile. “Can we talk? In private?”
Kaspar’s eyebrows rose, and his fellow card players whooped.
Maggie felt her cheeks burn. “It will only be a minute.”
“So said I to the farmer’s daughter, but our roll in the hay weren’t half as long,” one of them recited in a sing-song voice.
“Hey, hey, the farmer’s daughter, fair as a calf and twice as strong,” a few of the other, drunker men sang back, toasting their tankards and drinking deeply. They carried on with the call and response song, their recall of the lyrics getting worse and worse with each verse.
She should have waited to approach Kaspar until he wasn’t surrounded by a bunch of drunken, randy sailors. “I’ll come back later,” Maggie said apologetically, turning to go.
He caught her elbow. “Wait. What is this about?” He seemed genuinely curious, and at least marginally more sober than his crew.
“What do you think?” she asked miserably.
His jaw tensed. “I assumed you came to gloat.”
“About what?” She didn’t miss his swift glance down at his lap. She hid her smile. He thought she was going to tease him about wetting himself.
“Never mind,” he said crossly. “What were you going to say?”
She took a deep breath. “Your offer yesterday. I may have been too hasty—”
“So was I!” one of the loudest louts broke in, leering at her. “Hey, hey, hasty pudding,” he sang to the tune of their stupid song.
Kaspar elbowed him, and he shut up.
“Too hasty in my answer,” Maggie finished. “I should have considered it more seriously and replied with more respect. If you were to ask again…” She trailed off, humiliated by the smug expression growing over his face.
“Apologize.”
“Sorry, Cap’n,” the drunk man slurred.
Kaspar elbowed him again. “Not you. Her.”
“Sorry, Cap’n,” she parroted. From the way his jaw set, it was clear Kaspar didn’t like her joke, so she tried to salvage the wreck of the conversation. “I am. Sorry. Truly.”
“Try again,” he said softly. Dangerously. Even his tablemates sensed it, quieting around them. His eyes flicked from her face to the floor and back up again. Was he really indicating what she thought he was?! He smirked at the disbelieving look on her face and gave a slow nod. “On your knees, if you please.”
