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yet."
"Slack off, girl, you make me nervous. Put me in mind of
a cat I once
rescued from the tide when she came floating past the back
door on a
chunk of firewood. No matter what I said, no matter how I
tried to
fish the poor wretch out of the water, she kept digging
her claws into
that firewood, facing me down like she expected me to
knock her off her
raft and drown her."
"A cat? I remind you of a half-drowned cat?"
He grinned.
"Scared stiff, she was. Oh, I managed to rescue her, all
right, but
she near about tore me up before I could bundle her into a
blanket.
Never could abide cats after that."
"Captain Rawson, I--" "Rogan."
"Captain--" He drained his coffee cup, then slammed it
down on the
table.
"Look, woman, we've already settled the matter. You're to
call me by
my given name. Now that that's understood, heed my words
again. First
off, let me caution you against taking on too much and
making yourself
ill.
With Dr. Brachum gone, there's not a physician nearer than
the
mainland, and nobody here who can-spare the time to take
you across the
sound.
Secondly, don't let Hetty fool you.
I'll not say she's batty, but--" " Batty!
" Kathleen was furious that he would even suggest such a
thing.
She was disappointed in him, too, for in spite of the way
he teased the
poor woman, and even lost his temper with her, she had
never before had
cause to doubt that he loved her.
"I said I wouldn't say she was batty," he began, then he
swore.
"Dammit, woman, don't twist my words!"
"I didn't twist anything! You said she was batty, and
she's not!
She's simply--not young any more."
They were both standing now.
Kathleen's arms were once more crossed over her bosom, her
chin thrust
forward and her eyes as hard as flint.
Bracing himself on his hands, Rogan leaned across the
table to confront
her, his eyes narrowed to glittering slits.
"It'd serve you right, young lady, if I let you find out
for
yourself!
if you're so almighty wonderful--" "I never claimed to be
wonderful!"
"No, but Josiah claimed it for you! I ask him to find me
a sensible
woman, someone who wouldn't mind moving out here to the
banks, but no,
he had this wonderful young female he claimed was just
what I needed!
The only fly in the ointment was that I had to marry her.
" " Fly in the You did not have to marry me!
I never, ever wanted that!
" The fringe on her forehead was standing on end where
she'd slept on
it, and her braid had already unraveled halfway down her
back.
Ignoring her, Rogan grumbled, "Damned if he didn't sucker
me good,
telling me what a blasted wonder you were. The old goat
had me
believing that the last thing I needed was one more old
woman to worry
over. She's young, he said--she'll pull her weight.
Plain, prissy,
proud as a hog on ice, but the important thing was that
you were
healthy, a good hard worker with a cool head on your
shoulders."
Stricken, Kathleen felt the starch go right out of her
defenses.
"P-prissy? Proud?"
She'd never been proud in her life.
Leastwise, not proud proud.
Not the kind of proud that goeth before a fall.
"And plain," Rogan reminded her ruthlessly.
"But since I wasn't looking for a new mistress, that part
didn't bother
me. It was the rest of it I was interested in. The part
about having
good health, a strong back and a cool head on your
shoulders."'
Kathleen snatched up the kettle, sloshing water over her
wrist. She
gasped and tried to ignore the stinging pain, but Rogan
was too quick
for her.
"What the devil have you done now?" he grumbled, reaching
for her
arm.
"Nothing!"
"Don't be childish, give me your wrist."
She snatched her arm away, endangering herself again, and
he removed
the kettle, sat it back on the stove, grabbed the back of
her night
rail before she could get away.
"Dammit, woman--' ' " I told you to leave me alone!
Don't you have a ship to sail or something?
"If you've burned yourself, you'd damned well better take
care of it
before it goes septic! I told you we didn't have a doctor
out here."
Taking her by the hand, he yanked her arm under his and
clamped it
against his body, holding her wrist toward the light.
Kathleen fought, but she might as Well have done battle
with a tidal
wave for all the good it did her.
"Don't make me hurt you, Rogan, I'm warning you."
The hard hand that cradled her arm burned her skin even
more than the
scald, but she could hardly tell him that.
"You're warning me?"
Reaching for the flour bin with his free hand, he tilted
her a
quizzical look.
"Darling, if I'd known you didn't have the sense God gave
a barnacle,
I'd have married Louisa and left you right where I found
you. Now hold
still while I damned well make a poultice out of this
stuff."
"I don't think I want you poulticing me. What do you know
about
medicine?"
"A damned sight more than you do, I vow. Who d'you think
mends broken
heads when my crew goes ashore up in Baltimore?"
"I'd sooner trust Billy than you," she muttered, not
because it was the
truth but because she would die before admitting that the
flour paste
he'd just spread over her scalded wrist had leached the
pain right out
of it.
The trouble was, if he'd cracked her arm like a piece of
kindling, she
probably wouldn't even have noticed.
All she was conscious of was how strong he was, how gentle
his touch [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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yet."
"Slack off, girl, you make me nervous. Put me in mind of
a cat I once
rescued from the tide when she came floating past the back
door on a
chunk of firewood. No matter what I said, no matter how I
tried to
fish the poor wretch out of the water, she kept digging
her claws into
that firewood, facing me down like she expected me to
knock her off her
raft and drown her."
"A cat? I remind you of a half-drowned cat?"
He grinned.
"Scared stiff, she was. Oh, I managed to rescue her, all
right, but
she near about tore me up before I could bundle her into a
blanket.
Never could abide cats after that."
"Captain Rawson, I--" "Rogan."
"Captain--" He drained his coffee cup, then slammed it
down on the
table.
"Look, woman, we've already settled the matter. You're to
call me by
my given name. Now that that's understood, heed my words
again. First
off, let me caution you against taking on too much and
making yourself
ill.
With Dr. Brachum gone, there's not a physician nearer than
the
mainland, and nobody here who can-spare the time to take
you across the
sound.
Secondly, don't let Hetty fool you.
I'll not say she's batty, but--" " Batty!
" Kathleen was furious that he would even suggest such a
thing.
She was disappointed in him, too, for in spite of the way
he teased the
poor woman, and even lost his temper with her, she had
never before had
cause to doubt that he loved her.
"I said I wouldn't say she was batty," he began, then he
swore.
"Dammit, woman, don't twist my words!"
"I didn't twist anything! You said she was batty, and
she's not!
She's simply--not young any more."
They were both standing now.
Kathleen's arms were once more crossed over her bosom, her
chin thrust
forward and her eyes as hard as flint.
Bracing himself on his hands, Rogan leaned across the
table to confront
her, his eyes narrowed to glittering slits.
"It'd serve you right, young lady, if I let you find out
for
yourself!
if you're so almighty wonderful--" "I never claimed to be
wonderful!"
"No, but Josiah claimed it for you! I ask him to find me
a sensible
woman, someone who wouldn't mind moving out here to the
banks, but no,
he had this wonderful young female he claimed was just
what I needed!
The only fly in the ointment was that I had to marry her.
" " Fly in the You did not have to marry me!
I never, ever wanted that!
" The fringe on her forehead was standing on end where
she'd slept on
it, and her braid had already unraveled halfway down her
back.
Ignoring her, Rogan grumbled, "Damned if he didn't sucker
me good,
telling me what a blasted wonder you were. The old goat
had me
believing that the last thing I needed was one more old
woman to worry
over. She's young, he said--she'll pull her weight.
Plain, prissy,
proud as a hog on ice, but the important thing was that
you were
healthy, a good hard worker with a cool head on your
shoulders."
Stricken, Kathleen felt the starch go right out of her
defenses.
"P-prissy? Proud?"
She'd never been proud in her life.
Leastwise, not proud proud.
Not the kind of proud that goeth before a fall.
"And plain," Rogan reminded her ruthlessly.
"But since I wasn't looking for a new mistress, that part
didn't bother
me. It was the rest of it I was interested in. The part
about having
good health, a strong back and a cool head on your
shoulders."'
Kathleen snatched up the kettle, sloshing water over her
wrist. She
gasped and tried to ignore the stinging pain, but Rogan
was too quick
for her.
"What the devil have you done now?" he grumbled, reaching
for her
arm.
"Nothing!"
"Don't be childish, give me your wrist."
She snatched her arm away, endangering herself again, and
he removed
the kettle, sat it back on the stove, grabbed the back of
her night
rail before she could get away.
"Dammit, woman--' ' " I told you to leave me alone!
Don't you have a ship to sail or something?
"If you've burned yourself, you'd damned well better take
care of it
before it goes septic! I told you we didn't have a doctor
out here."
Taking her by the hand, he yanked her arm under his and
clamped it
against his body, holding her wrist toward the light.
Kathleen fought, but she might as Well have done battle
with a tidal
wave for all the good it did her.
"Don't make me hurt you, Rogan, I'm warning you."
The hard hand that cradled her arm burned her skin even
more than the
scald, but she could hardly tell him that.
"You're warning me?"
Reaching for the flour bin with his free hand, he tilted
her a
quizzical look.
"Darling, if I'd known you didn't have the sense God gave
a barnacle,
I'd have married Louisa and left you right where I found
you. Now hold
still while I damned well make a poultice out of this
stuff."
"I don't think I want you poulticing me. What do you know
about
medicine?"
"A damned sight more than you do, I vow. Who d'you think
mends broken
heads when my crew goes ashore up in Baltimore?"
"I'd sooner trust Billy than you," she muttered, not
because it was the
truth but because she would die before admitting that the
flour paste
he'd just spread over her scalded wrist had leached the
pain right out
of it.
The trouble was, if he'd cracked her arm like a piece of
kindling, she
probably wouldn't even have noticed.
All she was conscious of was how strong he was, how gentle
his touch [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]