Nathan in the Old Testament was a brave prophet indeed to stand up to King David and cause him to face the dreadful sin he’d committed by taking another man’s wife. I should like you gentlemen to know I think it’s marvelous that you both honor your heritage …as I do mine.”
Smith snorted under his breath, but Nate ignored him. “From your manner an’ speech, Miss Harwood, I can tell you came from a fine family. Whereabouts is it, exactly, that you hail from?”
“Why, thank you, Mr. Kinyon. I do indeed come from fine, God-fearing folk. And had it not been for the untimely death of a young lord who owed my father a great deal of money, I allow I’d still be living in the bosom of my family in Bath, England. But alas, many sacrifices had to be made to spare our family from total ruin.”
The trader guffawed with such relish, mush spewed out of his mouth. He wiped his chin on his sleeve. “Woman, I’d say any family what has to sell off its daughters is already in ruination.”
She hiked her chin and arched her brows higher, answering him with a tinge of vexation in her voice. “I should have you know, Mr. Smith, that my sisters and I gladly took it upon ourselves to sell our services for a mere four years to save our family’s home and livelihood. I’ve not the slightest doubt that our father will have saved enough funds to send for us by the time we have completed our terms, if not before.”
Intrigued by her story despite the limited details she’d provided, Nate wanted her to be sure he was on her side. “Know that I’m at your service, lass, for as long as you need me.”
She returned an appreciative gaze to him and opened her lips to speak but was interrupted.
“Me, too,” Bob injected. Nate glared at his irritating partner for butting in.
The trader shook his head in disgust and got up from the log, not bothering to dust off his backside. “Just remember, both of ya, she’s at my service and in my service …which reminds me. Get done eatin’, woman, and git this mess cleaned up. Day’s a’wastin’.” Swinging around, he stalked off toward the heavily laden packhorses.
Fifty pounds . Glaring after him, Nate bit his tongue at the man’s churlish treatment of such a refined young woman. Somehow, some way, he had to get his hands on fifty pounds. And a profit.
Chapter 8
S ettled again on the horse she’d ridden the day before, Rose did her best to ignore her aching thighs—which doubtless would feel added torture by day’s end. Ahead of her, Mr. Smith’s mount lumbered along, the muscles of its rump twitching, its straggly tail swishing away blackflies. The steady plodding of the horses’ hooves, along with their blowing and nickering, made time pass slowly. From time to time a break in the forest canopy overhead allowed a view of fluffy clouds floating across the expanse of blue. Colorful birds flew among the branches, and the occasional squirrel scampered up a nearby tree trunk. In other circumstances, this could be a pleasant day’s diversion from one’s daily life. Alas, these circumstances were far from that.
Rose reflected back on the panic she’d experienced at the start of the journey. No amount of praying had calmed her fears about accompanying a strange man and five Indians into deep, dark wilds filled with unidentifiable sounds. This morn, however, she had two knights in shining armor—well, not so shiny, attired in buckskin instead of hammered mail—but still, they were in attendance and hopefully would protect her from harm. She smiled thinly, feeling a bit safer.
The ache in her heart, though, she could not dismiss. How were her sisters faring? Had Mariah settled into her life at the Barclay Plantation? Did she get along with Colin Barclay’s mother? And was she remembering to act ladylike and not be a flirt?
And what of dear, sweet Lily? Had she reached her new home? Mr. Kinyon said she’d be located quite a distance from Baltimore. Was she safe now and
Smith snorted under his breath, but Nate ignored him. “From your manner an’ speech, Miss Harwood, I can tell you came from a fine family. Whereabouts is it, exactly, that you hail from?”
“Why, thank you, Mr. Kinyon. I do indeed come from fine, God-fearing folk. And had it not been for the untimely death of a young lord who owed my father a great deal of money, I allow I’d still be living in the bosom of my family in Bath, England. But alas, many sacrifices had to be made to spare our family from total ruin.”
The trader guffawed with such relish, mush spewed out of his mouth. He wiped his chin on his sleeve. “Woman, I’d say any family what has to sell off its daughters is already in ruination.”
She hiked her chin and arched her brows higher, answering him with a tinge of vexation in her voice. “I should have you know, Mr. Smith, that my sisters and I gladly took it upon ourselves to sell our services for a mere four years to save our family’s home and livelihood. I’ve not the slightest doubt that our father will have saved enough funds to send for us by the time we have completed our terms, if not before.”
Intrigued by her story despite the limited details she’d provided, Nate wanted her to be sure he was on her side. “Know that I’m at your service, lass, for as long as you need me.”
She returned an appreciative gaze to him and opened her lips to speak but was interrupted.
“Me, too,” Bob injected. Nate glared at his irritating partner for butting in.
The trader shook his head in disgust and got up from the log, not bothering to dust off his backside. “Just remember, both of ya, she’s at my service and in my service …which reminds me. Get done eatin’, woman, and git this mess cleaned up. Day’s a’wastin’.” Swinging around, he stalked off toward the heavily laden packhorses.
Fifty pounds . Glaring after him, Nate bit his tongue at the man’s churlish treatment of such a refined young woman. Somehow, some way, he had to get his hands on fifty pounds. And a profit.
Chapter 8
S ettled again on the horse she’d ridden the day before, Rose did her best to ignore her aching thighs—which doubtless would feel added torture by day’s end. Ahead of her, Mr. Smith’s mount lumbered along, the muscles of its rump twitching, its straggly tail swishing away blackflies. The steady plodding of the horses’ hooves, along with their blowing and nickering, made time pass slowly. From time to time a break in the forest canopy overhead allowed a view of fluffy clouds floating across the expanse of blue. Colorful birds flew among the branches, and the occasional squirrel scampered up a nearby tree trunk. In other circumstances, this could be a pleasant day’s diversion from one’s daily life. Alas, these circumstances were far from that.
Rose reflected back on the panic she’d experienced at the start of the journey. No amount of praying had calmed her fears about accompanying a strange man and five Indians into deep, dark wilds filled with unidentifiable sounds. This morn, however, she had two knights in shining armor—well, not so shiny, attired in buckskin instead of hammered mail—but still, they were in attendance and hopefully would protect her from harm. She smiled thinly, feeling a bit safer.
The ache in her heart, though, she could not dismiss. How were her sisters faring? Had Mariah settled into her life at the Barclay Plantation? Did she get along with Colin Barclay’s mother? And was she remembering to act ladylike and not be a flirt?
And what of dear, sweet Lily? Had she reached her new home? Mr. Kinyon said she’d be located quite a distance from Baltimore. Was she safe now and
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