“Did I? Let me see.”
She jerked her arm out of his reach. “I think not. If you were indeed trying to be helpful, I thank you. But next time don’t be such a brute about it.”
His smile gone, Drew replied, “There won’t be a next time, because if you stumble again, I’d definitely think twice about trying to catch you. In fact, I’m sure I’d let you fall. Good day, miss.”
He heard her gasp of outrage as he walked away. It was a sweet sound, but it didn’t bring back his smile. Ungrateful wench, he thought. He was so annoyed he felt no urge to look back at her, which was unusual for him when he encountered a beautiful woman. He just barreled past her escort, if indeed the two men really were her escort. Too bad neither of them took exception to it.
Chapter 7
THELONDON DOCK WAS TEEMING WITH ACTIVITY,but it was no different from the last time Gabrielle had been there, when she’d set off three years ago for the Caribbean, so confident that she could find her father. The arriving vessels accounted for most of the extra wagons that late in the day, transporting cargoes from ship to warehouse or straight to market. The sounds, the smells were almost familiar, and had so distracted her that she hadn’t seen the cart that had nearly knocked her over, or the man who’d prevented her from falling. Perhaps if she had seen him first, she wouldn’t have been so surprised by the immediate attraction she’d felt, and wouldn’t have made such a blundering fool of herself because of it. Good grief, she’d never in her life behaved so outrageously before, and all he’d tried to do was help her!
Her ship had sailed up the Thames early that morning, but it had taken most of the day before the passengers were rowed to the dock. She was glad of the late hour. It allowed her to get a room for the night and to delay delivering the letter in her pocket.
Two of her father’s crew were trailing at a discreet distance behind her, the two he trusted most, Richard and Ohr. They’d been sent to England with her to protect her, and to make sure the lord to whom she was delivering the letter complied with the favor her father was requesting of him. The men made two of the most incongruous chaperones imaginable, and yet, if they weren’t accompanying her, she doubted that she would go through with this.
She was to go husband hunting in the grand style favored by the English ton. She’d been sent ahead with her chaperones to get started on a magnificent new wardrobe for that very reason, and to catch the tail end of the summer Season. Her father was in the middle of ransoming two hostages, so he couldn’t leave just yet, but he’d promised to join her in a month or two. She’d argued that she could wait for him. He’d argued that this couldn’t wait. He’d won.
Margery had come as well. It wasn’t surprising that the middle-aged woman had staunchly refused to let her travel to England without arealchaperone, as she put it, but then, unlike Gabrielle, she’d missed their homeland terribly. She’d been excited during the whole trip about finally going home. As soon as they’d reached the dock, she’d rushed off to find them a carriage to hire, no easy task with so many arrivals that day, but she maintained she knew exactly how tonottake no for an answer and it took her only an hour to prove it, which Richard had teased her about all the way to the inn.
Gabrielle tried not to think about what was causing her such apprehension right now. Instead she thought about her time in the Caribbean with her father. Not until recently had either of them considered the disadvantages of her staying in that part of the world with him, that she would be missing all the things a young marriageable Englishwoman should be doing after reaching eighteen. She couldn’t say she regretted it, though. Not for anything would she have missed those wonderful years with her father.
The two men joined her and Margery for dinner and stayed to keep Gabrielle company. Ohr was playing cards with Margery, who had worn herself out with her excitement over being home, so she wasn’t paying much attention to the game or the conversation.
Out of Nathan’s crew, Ohr had been with him the longest. He used a host of fake names, too, as they all did, but Ohr happened to be his real one. If a last name went with it, he never bothered to mention it.
Most people assumed he was calling himself a nautical term when he introduced himself. Gabrielle had certainly thought that herself. Which was why he always volunteered, without being asked, that his name was spelled with anh.That he had the look of a half-breed Oriental, even wore his excessively long black hair in a single braid down his back, kept anyone from questioning it. They merely assumed, without knowing any better, that it was an Oriental name.
Over six feet tall, he had a face that seemed ageless. He mentioned once that his father had been an American who often sailed to the Far East. Ohr had joined the crew of an American ship sailing back to the Western side of the world, with the thought of finding his father, but he’d never gotten around to trying, had become a pirate instead.
The second crewman who her father had sent to watch over her went by the name of Jean Paul and a host of other names. But he’d revealed to her in secret when they’d become friends that Richard Allen was his real name. He’d told her that much, but no more about his past, or where he really came from, and she’d never pressed. He wasn’t much older than Gabrielle, and he stood out among the pirates not because he was so tall and handsome, but because he was always meticulously clean, both his person and his clothes.
He wore his black hair long and queued back, kept his face shaven except for a trim mustache. His clothes were as flamboyant as everyone else’s but spotless, and his high boots always shined. He wore no gaudy jewelry, though, just a single silver ring with some sort of crest on it. He had wide shoulders but was slim of build, and his green eyes sparkled. He seemed to always be flashing his white teeth with a smile or a laugh. Gabrielle found him to be appealing, a very lighthearted young man.
Richard practiced his French accent constantly, though it was still as atrocious as it had been when she’d first met him. At least he’d stopped slipping with the “bloody hells” when he got emotional, which were a dead giveaway to his real nationality.
She’d asked him once why he bothered to pretend to be a Frenchman when the fake names were enough for most of the pirates. He’d merely shrugged and said he didn’t want to be like the rest of the pirates and he was determined to master the disguise before he gave it up.
Richard had told her once that while he had wanted to make romantic overtures to her, he was afraid her father would kill him if he did, so he’d managed to resist the urge.
She’d laughed. He was a charming young man, humorous and daring, but she’d never once considered anything more than friendship with him.
But that she’d only formed a platonic relationship with such a handsome young man as Richard Allen didn’t mean she hadn’t succumbed to a few romantic attractions over the years in the Caribbean. It was just as well that most of them had been sailors, though, aside from Charles, because a seafaring man was the last kind of man she wanted for a husband, having grown up with firsthand knowledge of how infrequently they were ever at home.
When she did marry, the man would have to actually share a life with her. That’s how she envisioned marriage. If he was gone for months at a time the way sailors were, if she ended up being left mostly alone, then what would be the point of marrying?
Her mother had had a similar opinion. So often over the years, she had told Gabrielle that it was pointless to love a man who loves the sea. The competition was too great.
“Why did you let him upset you,chérie?” Richard asked as she paced the room.
She knew exactly whom he was talking about—the handsome man she’d encountered on the dock—since she’d been trying to keep “him” out of her mind. But she didn’t have an answer that she cared to share, so instead she said, “I wasn’t upset.”
“You nearly took his head off.”
“Nonsense. I was just shaken,” she replied. “That cart would have knocked me over, if he didn’t grab me. But he pinched my arm so hard I think I would have been less hurt if I’d fallen to the ground, so he wasn’t really the least bit helpful.”
It was a blatant lie. Richard raised a brow to indicate he suspected that, causing her to blush and try a different reason, one that was true.
She continued, “I’ve been quite nervous ever since we set sail.”
