to listen.
“A couple of years ago, Rose fel in love with a fisherman.
Her mother disapproved. He died at sea, never knowing about the baby. Rose hopes if she makes a good match, her mother might give her baby back. She’s grief stricken, Grant. I wish there was something I could do to help her.” Grant shivered with unease when Shane looked him in the eye. “I think I love her. You may as wel know that.” Time to be stern, Grant thought. “I know you think you do.
Exactly as you said.”
“Don’t. Don’t let the hateful woman who bore us keep you from finding someone to love. It’s possible, big brother, and the best thing that can happen to a man. Don’t let your fear of becoming like the bastard who sired us cause you to be just like him. Old and alone. I care about you, Grant. Give life a chance. You deserve it.”
Grant bristled. “Fine, fine. I’l think about it.”
“I’l take that as a sign of encouragement. There was a time you’d have said there was nothing to think about. I’l be happy with that, for now. Anyway, thanks for listening. I appreciate it.”
Grant slapped his brother on the back, which was as close as they ever got to a show of affection, but Shane knew he cared—as much as he was able to care about anyone.
Grant supposed if there were someone in his life he loved, it was Shane.
“I think I hear the witches in the companionway,” Shane said. “Does that mean you terminated their sentence?”
“Yes. And Old Mother Witch hasn’t wasted time informing them, either.”
When he and Shane went up, the main deck had become a country fair. Al that’s missing is a Gypsy wagon, Grant thought. Dublin played his harmonica while Paddy drummed a bucket. Sophie and Angel danced with each other. Patience and the other girls sang and swayed to the music. Sven, the big, burly Norwegian, laughed and stamped his foot.
When the girls finished their song, the sailors began an old sea chantey. “I met a girl in Portman street, the sweetest girl I chanced to meet. I pul ed her up against my chest. My seeking hand—”
Grant rang the watch bel . He knew the words; he didn’t think the girls should. “How about a change in entertainment? Jasper, Shanks, let’s have a pugilistic demonstration.”
His men did a bit of fancy footwork and some prime boxing that entertained the sailors fine, but none of the women, except Sophie. She screamed her enthusiasm. “Duck. Pop him one good, Jasper, old boy.” She mimicked their moves. “Wowee, did you see that? Smack to the jaw.” She punched the air.
Mortified, Grace tried to quiet her.
Sophie ignored her friend’s pleas.
The Captain laughed. He enjoyed Sophie more than the boxers.
When the match was done, a prideful Jasper, the announced winner, al owed himself to be applauded by Miss Sophie. No doubt, he liked her adulation very much.
“I wish I could learn to do that,” Sophie said. “I had this nasty cousin who pushed me around when I was smal . I’d love to be able to pop him one when he couldn’t see it coming.” Jasper’s eyes widened; he scratched his beard. “Wel now, Miss, I could teach you a thing or two about taking care of yourself, if you’d like.”
“Would you? Right now?”
The sailor grinned with pride. “Sure. I can be the one to teach you and no mistake. Since fairness is important, Miss, I’l be teaching you by the Marquess of Queensbury rules. You’l be learning them as we go. Now, you step forward. No, your left foot first. Just there until it touches my toe. Fine. Move your right foot back a little.” He watched her. “A bit more.”
Sophie complied to each instruction with eagerness, no matter how simple.
Jasper nodded as each command was executed properly.
“Make a fist.” She did. He shook his head and repositioned her fingers and thumbs. “Always keep your thumbs outside the fist. Inside, they can get broke. Now extend your left hand and keep your right up front, even with your left
“A couple of years ago, Rose fel in love with a fisherman.
Her mother disapproved. He died at sea, never knowing about the baby. Rose hopes if she makes a good match, her mother might give her baby back. She’s grief stricken, Grant. I wish there was something I could do to help her.” Grant shivered with unease when Shane looked him in the eye. “I think I love her. You may as wel know that.” Time to be stern, Grant thought. “I know you think you do.
Exactly as you said.”
“Don’t. Don’t let the hateful woman who bore us keep you from finding someone to love. It’s possible, big brother, and the best thing that can happen to a man. Don’t let your fear of becoming like the bastard who sired us cause you to be just like him. Old and alone. I care about you, Grant. Give life a chance. You deserve it.”
Grant bristled. “Fine, fine. I’l think about it.”
“I’l take that as a sign of encouragement. There was a time you’d have said there was nothing to think about. I’l be happy with that, for now. Anyway, thanks for listening. I appreciate it.”
Grant slapped his brother on the back, which was as close as they ever got to a show of affection, but Shane knew he cared—as much as he was able to care about anyone.
Grant supposed if there were someone in his life he loved, it was Shane.
“I think I hear the witches in the companionway,” Shane said. “Does that mean you terminated their sentence?”
“Yes. And Old Mother Witch hasn’t wasted time informing them, either.”
When he and Shane went up, the main deck had become a country fair. Al that’s missing is a Gypsy wagon, Grant thought. Dublin played his harmonica while Paddy drummed a bucket. Sophie and Angel danced with each other. Patience and the other girls sang and swayed to the music. Sven, the big, burly Norwegian, laughed and stamped his foot.
When the girls finished their song, the sailors began an old sea chantey. “I met a girl in Portman street, the sweetest girl I chanced to meet. I pul ed her up against my chest. My seeking hand—”
Grant rang the watch bel . He knew the words; he didn’t think the girls should. “How about a change in entertainment? Jasper, Shanks, let’s have a pugilistic demonstration.”
His men did a bit of fancy footwork and some prime boxing that entertained the sailors fine, but none of the women, except Sophie. She screamed her enthusiasm. “Duck. Pop him one good, Jasper, old boy.” She mimicked their moves. “Wowee, did you see that? Smack to the jaw.” She punched the air.
Mortified, Grace tried to quiet her.
Sophie ignored her friend’s pleas.
The Captain laughed. He enjoyed Sophie more than the boxers.
When the match was done, a prideful Jasper, the announced winner, al owed himself to be applauded by Miss Sophie. No doubt, he liked her adulation very much.
“I wish I could learn to do that,” Sophie said. “I had this nasty cousin who pushed me around when I was smal . I’d love to be able to pop him one when he couldn’t see it coming.” Jasper’s eyes widened; he scratched his beard. “Wel now, Miss, I could teach you a thing or two about taking care of yourself, if you’d like.”
“Would you? Right now?”
The sailor grinned with pride. “Sure. I can be the one to teach you and no mistake. Since fairness is important, Miss, I’l be teaching you by the Marquess of Queensbury rules. You’l be learning them as we go. Now, you step forward. No, your left foot first. Just there until it touches my toe. Fine. Move your right foot back a little.” He watched her. “A bit more.”
Sophie complied to each instruction with eagerness, no matter how simple.
Jasper nodded as each command was executed properly.
“Make a fist.” She did. He shook his head and repositioned her fingers and thumbs. “Always keep your thumbs outside the fist. Inside, they can get broke. Now extend your left hand and keep your right up front, even with your left
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