had his bleedin’ attention. “Why don’t you tell me how you know that term and what you think it means?”
Maggie shrank back into her chair as if he might strike her. Strike a woman? He was affronted. As if he’d ever strike a woman. Never. And any man who did deserved a painful and bloody death at the end of his sword, gun, blast of energy or maybe all three. Didn’t matter he was still pissed about her turning his life upside down, all he cared about was destroying whoever had laid a finger on that porcelain skin or fiery red hair. Ruining those who’d hurt her. Clenching the arms of the chair, he heard them creak in protest. Calm the hell down, won’t do any good to scare her. Keep calm and let her talk.
“I don’t know who or what has hurt you but I would never strike a woman.” A knock on the door interrupted him. Ian came in bearing a hearty stew, freshly baked bread, tea, and fruit.
“Dinner has arrived. Do you feel up to eating something more substantial than broth?”
“Are you kidding? I’m starving. Oranges, wherever did you find them? It’s hard enough to get orange juice let alone the real thing.” Maggie looked like she was going to knock Ian over and devour the orange globes.
“Easy now, there’s plenty. I’ve a hothouse at my home in Wales and they’re grown there. We keep oranges along with lemon and limes stocked on the ship. Would milady like a glass of lemonade?” The poor woman was ready to start salivating. Hmm, fresh fruit seemed to be the way to get Maggie to drop her guard. He made a mental note.
“Ian, if you would be so kind? That will be all.”
The boy left them to their supper. “Shall we continue our conversation? I am most interested in your tale. Eat as many oranges as you want. We’ve plenty onboard and can restock when we reach Wales in a few hours.”
With a wary eye on him, she stood and fixed a heaping bowl of stew, two heavily buttered slices of bread, three oranges and refilled her tea. A good strategy was half the battle. His was simple…he’d ply her with food to get her to drop her guard and open up.
Waiting until she settled back in to her chair, he stood and with deliberate slow movements, made his own plate of food. What would it be like to serve her? To feed her piece by piece, watching the pleasure fill her face? A groan of pleasure filled the room as Maggie dug into her food.
“Take care, lass. Your stomach may not handle the food so well.”
With a mouth full of bread, she mumbled, “No, I’m used to not having food for a few days and then eating. I think my stomach is made of cast iron.”
It was stated so matter of fact. In this day and age to think someone wouldn’t have enough food, it was unacceptable. Schooling his face into a pleasant expression, he nodded around a bite of stew, motioning for her to continue.
“I don’t actually know you, I’d never laid eyes on you until Edinburgh Castle but I knew your name and what you looked like. The people I…worked for, were very interested in you and those like you.”
Spoon dangling from his fingers, he nodded, leaning forward in the chair. “Solien?”
“Yes. What a horrible creature. And when I heard him talking to Bruce and Rawlins about you. Well, they sounded afraid. So naturally I thought if they were worried, you had to be terrifying.” That lovely full mouth of hers formed an O of surprise as if she realized what words had left her mouth and she shrank back into her chair almost spilling the stew.
He stayed his hand before he reached out to her knowing she’d take it as aggression not concern. “Maggie, ‘tis fine. Do you know what the people you work for are?”
“Some of them are human, like Bruce and his men. They report to what I used to call super ghosts but now I know they’re called Day Walkers. The Day Walkers answer to the most frightening creature I’ve ever encountered. His name is Solien and he’s something more than even the Day Walkers.”
Maggie shrank back into her chair as if he might strike her. Strike a woman? He was affronted. As if he’d ever strike a woman. Never. And any man who did deserved a painful and bloody death at the end of his sword, gun, blast of energy or maybe all three. Didn’t matter he was still pissed about her turning his life upside down, all he cared about was destroying whoever had laid a finger on that porcelain skin or fiery red hair. Ruining those who’d hurt her. Clenching the arms of the chair, he heard them creak in protest. Calm the hell down, won’t do any good to scare her. Keep calm and let her talk.
“I don’t know who or what has hurt you but I would never strike a woman.” A knock on the door interrupted him. Ian came in bearing a hearty stew, freshly baked bread, tea, and fruit.
“Dinner has arrived. Do you feel up to eating something more substantial than broth?”
“Are you kidding? I’m starving. Oranges, wherever did you find them? It’s hard enough to get orange juice let alone the real thing.” Maggie looked like she was going to knock Ian over and devour the orange globes.
“Easy now, there’s plenty. I’ve a hothouse at my home in Wales and they’re grown there. We keep oranges along with lemon and limes stocked on the ship. Would milady like a glass of lemonade?” The poor woman was ready to start salivating. Hmm, fresh fruit seemed to be the way to get Maggie to drop her guard. He made a mental note.
“Ian, if you would be so kind? That will be all.”
The boy left them to their supper. “Shall we continue our conversation? I am most interested in your tale. Eat as many oranges as you want. We’ve plenty onboard and can restock when we reach Wales in a few hours.”
With a wary eye on him, she stood and fixed a heaping bowl of stew, two heavily buttered slices of bread, three oranges and refilled her tea. A good strategy was half the battle. His was simple…he’d ply her with food to get her to drop her guard and open up.
Waiting until she settled back in to her chair, he stood and with deliberate slow movements, made his own plate of food. What would it be like to serve her? To feed her piece by piece, watching the pleasure fill her face? A groan of pleasure filled the room as Maggie dug into her food.
“Take care, lass. Your stomach may not handle the food so well.”
With a mouth full of bread, she mumbled, “No, I’m used to not having food for a few days and then eating. I think my stomach is made of cast iron.”
It was stated so matter of fact. In this day and age to think someone wouldn’t have enough food, it was unacceptable. Schooling his face into a pleasant expression, he nodded around a bite of stew, motioning for her to continue.
“I don’t actually know you, I’d never laid eyes on you until Edinburgh Castle but I knew your name and what you looked like. The people I…worked for, were very interested in you and those like you.”
Spoon dangling from his fingers, he nodded, leaning forward in the chair. “Solien?”
“Yes. What a horrible creature. And when I heard him talking to Bruce and Rawlins about you. Well, they sounded afraid. So naturally I thought if they were worried, you had to be terrifying.” That lovely full mouth of hers formed an O of surprise as if she realized what words had left her mouth and she shrank back into her chair almost spilling the stew.
He stayed his hand before he reached out to her knowing she’d take it as aggression not concern. “Maggie, ‘tis fine. Do you know what the people you work for are?”
“Some of them are human, like Bruce and his men. They report to what I used to call super ghosts but now I know they’re called Day Walkers. The Day Walkers answer to the most frightening creature I’ve ever encountered. His name is Solien and he’s something more than even the Day Walkers.”
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