“Two ales and two stews.”Caleb shifted his gaze away from the woman’s rounded breasts peeking at him from above her bodice.
The woman remained.“Aren’t ye that Hyde fellow who…” She cocked her head, studying him.
“What if I am?”Caleb returned harshly.“Now off with you.”
The tavern maid pursed her lips, offered him a seething glance, then dashed away.
His gaze returned to Miss Starr.If possible, the candlelight made her even more beautiful.“See, not so bad?”He gestured around the tavern.
A nervous chuckle escaped her lips as she shook her head.“You can read about it in books, see it in movies, but nothing prepares you for reality.If that’s even what this is.”
Movies?By thunder, the woman spoke in riddles.Which intrigued him all the more.“To what do you refer, Miss Starr?”
“Call me Desi, please.”She swallowed hard.“I refer to this”—she waved her hand over the room—“and to the town we just walked through.I refer to your ship, to the battle, the rats...everything.Either I’ve gone completely nuts, or I really have somehow been transported to the past.”
Caleb searched the lady’s eyes.He’d seen madness in people’s eyes before.He’d seen evil as well.Neither sparked in this woman’s.Just strength and bewilderment.But he’d been fooled by a woman before.
“I just wish I could record it all,” she said.“Take a video, even just a picture.”Her intense gaze traveled over the tavern once again.“So I can remember every detail.Even the sounds.”She blew out a sigh.“Where is my phone when I need it?”
Caleb wasn’t sure whether the lady still spoke English.She seemed sane enough, but her words whirled in the air like bees disturbed from their hive.He stared at her, unsure how to respond, his expression, no doubt, a mask of confusion.
Her eyes met his.“Even pen and paper would be great for now.”
Pen and paper?Caleb frowned, searching for meaning to her words.“Ah ha, you refer to quill and parchment?You wish to write an account of your travels.”
“Yes.”Her smile lit the room.“I’ve always wanted to write a historical novel.It’s been a dream of mine.”
Fascinating.“A thieving sea nymph who fancies herself an author,” he said teasingly.
A playful glint crossed her eyes.“Very funny.”
The sound of a fiddle screeched through the room, followed by a chorus of sailors singing a ditty, stealing her attention.
“Am I spending the night here?”she asked.
“Aye, there are rooms upstairs.”Caleb gestured to a rickety staircase behind him.
“I’d rather stay on the ship.”A tremble, ever so slight, quivered her voice.
“My crew are working on the repairs through the night.You’d not get a wink of sleep.”
“I don’t know…” Desi started to say as the tavern maid returned, slamming two mugs of ale onto the table, along with two chunks of bread and two bowls of stew, both of which spilled onto the already sticky wooden top.
The spicy scent of roasted pork sent his stomach churning, and he grabbed his mug and took a long draught, wiping the foam from his lip.
The lady smiled.“I thought missionaries didn’t drink alcohol.”
“Christ followers don’t get drunk, Miss…but an occasional ale to wet one’s thirst is no sin.”
She sipped her drink.“Not as potent as the beer in my day.”
Caleb closed his eyes.“For this food, Lord, I thank you.Bless it and us this night.”When he opened them, he found the lady staring at him as if he’d invoked a curse upon them.Which reminded him of the Ring in his pocket.
And the fact that she’d somehow stolen it before.
“Eat.”Picking up his spoon, he gestured toward her bowl and then started on his own stew, a delicious blend of pork, onions, spices, peppers, and sweet potatoes.
She seemed to enjoy it as well as she brought spoonful after spoonful to her mouth.
