She would never have to face Mary—as Lord Treveryan’s courtesan or anything else. She would be a memory to Sloan Treveryan before he ever reached the Dutch shore.
Sloan came to her and lifted her chin. “Are you dismayed?” he asked her, his voice suspiciously solicitous. “Don’t be. Mary is a kind woman, you will be safe in her keeping.”
She pulled her chin from his grasp and met his eyes with a bitter smile. “How do you plan to introduce me to our chaste princess, Treveryan?”
He sighed with impatience. “Have you no comprehension whatever, girl? It makes no difference! I could not, in all conscience, set you ashore! Until Matthews is stopped, you will not be safe anywhere in England or Scotland—or even Wales.”
“That’s not true! If I went to my family—”
“They could do nothing if Matthews found you!” Sloan interrupted savagely. Then he emitted a groan and turned from her. “Mary grew up in her uncle’s court. James kept as many mistresses as Charles. She will hardly be shocked.”
The argument made no difference. Brianna was certain that he was wrong, and that she could hide for as long as was necessary with the Powells. But she could not help arguing with him and mocking him for his negligent assumptions. “No,” she told Sloan with saccharine sweetness, “Mary will merely assume that I am your current entertainment.”
“Entertainment?” Sloan queried, spinning to face her once again, his hands tensing over his hips as his anger rose. “Lass, you have been anything but entertaining. You have been a complete nuisance to me. If it will stop your shrewish tongue, I will assure you that I will tell Mary of your predicament—and that I seek to give you asylum only.”
She lowered her head quickly, trying to remember that she must keep her thoughts hidden from him, and that to do so, she should learn to control her temper—and her tongue. She spoke quietly to him.
“It will stop my shrewish tongue if you will assure me that you truly wish to give me asylum and ask nothing in return.” With the words out she faced him again.
For long seconds they glared at one another. Brianna could almost feel the heat of his anger; it seemed to crackle about him. She quailed within, yet would not allow her eyes to fall from his, nor relinquish her stand. She could not bear the tension that riddled the air, so she spoke, trying desperately to keep entirely calm. There were things she wanted from him—things she wanted back!
“I know you must think me ungrateful. I am not. I do thank you, again, for saving my life. But if you did so, it was, I believe, your own choice. I don’t owe you anything, and yet you continue to take from me. I—”
“I continue to take from you?” He interrupted softly—his voice a rasp of silk. “To what are we referring? Your clothing? I did assure you it would be returned, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did,” she agreed quietly. “But when will I have it?”
He walked closer to her, as he brought a hand to her cheek. She shuddered slightly at that touch; no matter how infuriated she became, she could not deny the startling heat of his caress and its unnerving effect upon her.
“Oh … soon, I would think,” he assured her.
Rather than meet his eyes she allowed her lashes to fall. “Thank you,” she murmured demurely.
“Brianna?”
“Yes?” She raised her eyes to his.
He smiled, and for a brief moment she was allowed to feel a little thrill in her art of craft and seduction. But then that victory was dashed as he said simply, “You won’t get the money back.”
Her smile faded; open hostility filled her eyes and she stepped back from him furiously.
“Why not? It’s mine—I earned it!” she snapped, bitterly mocking herself.
Sloan laughed, walking toward the cabin door, then turning back to her and grinning as he leaned idly against the paneling. “I’m not so sure that you did earn it. A man hires a … lady of the streets for her to
Sloan came to her and lifted her chin. “Are you dismayed?” he asked her, his voice suspiciously solicitous. “Don’t be. Mary is a kind woman, you will be safe in her keeping.”
She pulled her chin from his grasp and met his eyes with a bitter smile. “How do you plan to introduce me to our chaste princess, Treveryan?”
He sighed with impatience. “Have you no comprehension whatever, girl? It makes no difference! I could not, in all conscience, set you ashore! Until Matthews is stopped, you will not be safe anywhere in England or Scotland—or even Wales.”
“That’s not true! If I went to my family—”
“They could do nothing if Matthews found you!” Sloan interrupted savagely. Then he emitted a groan and turned from her. “Mary grew up in her uncle’s court. James kept as many mistresses as Charles. She will hardly be shocked.”
The argument made no difference. Brianna was certain that he was wrong, and that she could hide for as long as was necessary with the Powells. But she could not help arguing with him and mocking him for his negligent assumptions. “No,” she told Sloan with saccharine sweetness, “Mary will merely assume that I am your current entertainment.”
“Entertainment?” Sloan queried, spinning to face her once again, his hands tensing over his hips as his anger rose. “Lass, you have been anything but entertaining. You have been a complete nuisance to me. If it will stop your shrewish tongue, I will assure you that I will tell Mary of your predicament—and that I seek to give you asylum only.”
She lowered her head quickly, trying to remember that she must keep her thoughts hidden from him, and that to do so, she should learn to control her temper—and her tongue. She spoke quietly to him.
“It will stop my shrewish tongue if you will assure me that you truly wish to give me asylum and ask nothing in return.” With the words out she faced him again.
For long seconds they glared at one another. Brianna could almost feel the heat of his anger; it seemed to crackle about him. She quailed within, yet would not allow her eyes to fall from his, nor relinquish her stand. She could not bear the tension that riddled the air, so she spoke, trying desperately to keep entirely calm. There were things she wanted from him—things she wanted back!
“I know you must think me ungrateful. I am not. I do thank you, again, for saving my life. But if you did so, it was, I believe, your own choice. I don’t owe you anything, and yet you continue to take from me. I—”
“I continue to take from you?” He interrupted softly—his voice a rasp of silk. “To what are we referring? Your clothing? I did assure you it would be returned, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did,” she agreed quietly. “But when will I have it?”
He walked closer to her, as he brought a hand to her cheek. She shuddered slightly at that touch; no matter how infuriated she became, she could not deny the startling heat of his caress and its unnerving effect upon her.
“Oh … soon, I would think,” he assured her.
Rather than meet his eyes she allowed her lashes to fall. “Thank you,” she murmured demurely.
“Brianna?”
“Yes?” She raised her eyes to his.
He smiled, and for a brief moment she was allowed to feel a little thrill in her art of craft and seduction. But then that victory was dashed as he said simply, “You won’t get the money back.”
Her smile faded; open hostility filled her eyes and she stepped back from him furiously.
“Why not? It’s mine—I earned it!” she snapped, bitterly mocking herself.
Sloan laughed, walking toward the cabin door, then turning back to her and grinning as he leaned idly against the paneling. “I’m not so sure that you did earn it. A man hires a … lady of the streets for her to
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