Читать книгу The Smuggler and the Society Bride - Julia Justiss - Страница 12

After spending the morning supervising the crew repairing rigging on the Flying Gull, Gabe walked into the inn to find the very woman whose voice and image had been teasing his thoughts.

She’d been playing an active part in some very lusty dreams, too, he thought with a sigh, but he’d do better to suppress those memories, particularly if he wanted to beguile her into speaking with him. Since he had nothing better to do the rest of the afternoon than read the week-old London papers, attempting to charm this luscious and resistant lady would be a welcome diversion.

Obviously not aware that he resided in one of the inn’s bedchambers, as he addressed her, she gasped in surprise. He had to give her credit, though, for she quickly recovered her countenance and assumed the faintly haughty air she’d employed in the churchyard.

He barely suppressed a grin. Her reaction was like the dropping of a handkerchief at the start of a race: he couldn’t wait to charge forward.

‘Mr Hawksworth,’ she replied with a regal nod. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be off somewhere robbing someone?’

‘Nay, lass, ’tis full daylight. I endeavour to constrain my nefarious activities until after dark,’ he replied.

She stiffened when he called her ‘lass,’ and he could almost see her rapidly reviewing phrases to find one biting enough to put him in his place. She looked so intent—and so indignant, he was hard put not to laugh.

He hadn’t encountered a chick with feathers this easy to ruffle since leaving his brother’s home.

Before she could unfurl her blighting phrase of choice, he continued, ‘Mrs Kessel brews a superior cider. Won’t you share one with me before you leave? It would be entirely proper, I assure you.’ He gestured around the room. ‘We have the whole inn to act as chaperones.’

‘There is such comfort in numbers,’ she replied, irony in her tone as she nodded toward the currently deserted tap room.

To his disappointment, their tête-à-tête ended practically before it began as Sadie rushed in. ‘Mr Hawksworth, sir, what can I do for you? Some ale? The missus be cooking a fine roast. If you’ve a mind for a bite, I’ll see if I can persuade her to fix you a plate now.’

Gabe suspected the persistent tavern maid had been lolling about the corridor, watching for him as she’d developed an irritating tendency to do—and was not at all interested in assisting the inn’s other customer. ‘Just a mug of your finest, Sadie. And a bit more cider for the lady.’

The distinctly unfriendly look Sadie cast at Miss Foxe confirmed Gabe’s suspicion. ‘Think she was about leaving, weren’t you, miss?’

‘Nay, no one could resist a wee bit more of Mrs Kessel’s excellent brew. Why, ’twould be near an unforgiveable insult to that good lady’s skill, and I’m certain you wouldn’t wish to insult the innkeeper’s wife, would you, Miss Foxe?’

The girl’s expression said she was about to do just that when the lady herself walked in. ‘Welcome, Mr Gabe, and you, too, miss! How go things with the Gull?’

‘Tolerable, ma’am. She’ll be ready to hoist sail by nightfall, should it be needful.’

Mrs Kessel nodded. ‘Dickin said his ship’d be ready any day now and he just awaiting word. What can I get you?’

‘Some ale, please. Mrs Kessel, have you met Miss Marie Foxe, Miss Foxe’s niece?’

‘Why, no! Excuse me, miss, I had no idea—’ Breaking off hastily, the innkeeper’s wife dipped her a curtsy, clearly distressed at having perhaps given offence to the relation of such an important area resident. ‘A pleasure to welcome you! Your aunt’s always been good enough to honour us with her custom.’

‘I’ve just been telling her she needs another mug of your cider, which is the best on the coast. Did you not find it so, Miss Foxe?’ Gabe looked at her, grinning.

‘It is excellent, ma’am,’ she allowed, darting him a dagger glance.

‘Why, thank ye kindly, miss. Sadie,’ Mrs Kessel called to the girl lounging near the bar, a sullen look on her face. ‘Another cider for Miss Foxe, and be quick about it!’

There was no way now she could politely refuse, a fact of which she was well aware. Gabe watched her almost grind her teeth in frustration before her expression cleared and she gave the innkeeper’s wife a smile, so unexpected that its warmth and brilliance dazzled him.

‘Thank you, ma’am. I should enjoy one very much.’

Still bedazzled, he scarcely heard her reply, his brain unable to progress beyond thinking that he’d never seen her truly smile before and that, when she smiled like that, half the gentlemen on the Cornish coast would fight each other for the honour of throwing themselves at her feet.

How had she ever escaped London unwed?

Along with his realization of the feet-worshipping power of that smile came a wholly unexpected flash of emotion that felt uncomfortably like jealousy. Quite understandable, he told himself: he had seen the goddess first, and it was only natural to dislike the notion of other acolytes trying to join the procession.

Fortunately, he reflected, after mentally ticking off the possibilities, only a handful of gentlemen resided in the area, half of them already married and the other half attending the Season in Penzance or London. Unless, like some Lady Bountiful, she liked to cast her lovely smiles like coins to the poor, his only competition hereabouts for the pleasure of crossing wits with her would be fishermen, farmers and day labourers.

From Sadie’s expression as she returned with their mugs, the barmaid didn’t like Miss Foxe sharing her brilliant smile with him any more than he liked the idea of some other gentleman basking in its glow. The barmaid tossed Miss Foxe’s mug on the table, splashing a bit of cider on her gown, then sidled up to Gabe and bent low to give him a good view of the assets bulging out the top of her tight bodice as she carefully placed his mug before him.

‘Here ye be, Mr Hawks worth. Anything else you be needing, you holler.’ Slowly she traced her lips with her tongue and smiled. ‘Just…anything.’

Gabe might be sitting across the table from a lovely lady who possessed the most dazzling smile he’d ever beheld; he might be mindful that three strapping brothers with strong protective instincts stood between him and accepting the invitation the wayward Sadie had just tendered him—which truly didn’t interest him in any event. But he was still man enough to enjoy the hip-swaying show Sadie put on as she sashayed back to bar.

He looked up to see Miss Foxe rolling her eyes. ‘Don’t let me keep you from pursuing more satisfying company, Mr Hawksworth,’ she said sweetly.

Her knowing expression said she’d understood perfectly just what sort of offer Sadie had laid on the table with his mug. Whatever her past, she was not a total innocent, then. Her aunt might receive such information with alarm, but for Gabe, interest—and a significant part of his anatomy—stirred at that pleasing conclusion.