A Pirate's Love by Johanna Lindsey Page B

the streets would be crowded with people, but by then Tristan might have his whole crew out looking for her. And besides, she wanted to take the law back to the ship before Madeleine awoke and started to worry about her.
    Slowly, Bettina edged over to the open door of the tavern. She stood to one side and scanned the room nervously to see if she recognized any of Tristan’s crew. But it was impossible to tell. There were so many men with their backs to her, and others were sleeping with their heads on the tables. There were women in the room also, barmaids servingdrinks, whom the men apparently regarded as fair game for fondling and pinching.
    Bettina was repelled by the foul odor that was heavy in the air, even outside the door, but she knew she had to walk into the tavern if she were going to find help. She walked quickly to the nearest table, where three men were avidly playing some sort of game with small sticks.
    â€œ Monsieur ,” she ventured, but not one of the men looked up at her. “ Monsieur , I seek a gendarme .”
    â€œSpeak English, will ye?” one of them said. He glanced at her, and then his eyes opened wide. “Blimy! Will ye look at that!”
    The other two men looked at her with greedy eyes, and Bettina looked down at herself. She gasped when she saw that the thin, wet shirt clung tightly to her breasts and was nearly transparent. She quickly pulled the material away from her skin, but it was too late, for at least half a dozen men had already seen the clear outline of her perfectly formed breasts.
    â€œWhat’s yer price, wench? I’ll pay it, no matter what,” one man said. He rose from his chair.
    â€œSit down, mate,” another said. “I saw ’er first.”
    â€œGet the hell out of here!” a huge man behind the bar yelled at her. “Ye’re gonna start a bloody fight, blast ye!”
    But the fight had already started between the two men who had spoken first. Others joined in, just for the love of a good fight, and in seconds the room was full of drunken, brawling men. Bettina started backing away to escape, but then a huge hand clamped down on her shoulder.
    â€œYe’re gonna pay fer this!” the barkeeper shouted in her ear. “Ye’re gonna pay fer the damages!”
    Bettina quickly jerked free and ran for the door, but the fat barkeeper followed close behind her. She ran frantically down the street, ducked into the first alley she came to and stumbled over piles of garbage as she made her way to the other end. She came out into a lighted square, saw a uniformed guard on the other side, and ran toward him. She could hear the fat man shouting behind her.
    â€œ Monsieur , are you a gendarme? ” she asked, when she reached the man.
    â€œWhat?”
    She didn’t know why she had assumed this town would be a French settlement. “Are you an official of the law?” she asked in English.
    But the man in uniform was distracted as the fat man came running across the square toward them. “What have you done, girl?” he asked.
    â€œI have done nothing,” she replied. “I was seeking the law when—”
    â€œArrest her!” the barkeeper shouted as he panted up to them.
    â€œWhat has she done?”
    â€œShe—she came into my place like that,” he answered, motioning to her. “And she caused a bloody fight. There’s damages!”
    â€œIs this true, girl?” the officer asked sternly.
    â€œI was only seeking help. I could find no one on the street to ask,” Bettina replied.
    â€œHelp for what?” the officer asked.
    â€œThere are pirates in the harbor. They were keeping me prisoner. I escaped to find the authorities, and—”
    She stopped when both men laughed at her answer. What was so amusing about her story?
    â€œTelling lies won’t help you out of this,” the officer said. “Now, can you pay for the damages you caused, or do I