broke out on Dajon’s forehead. His mouth dried. He bolted forward when another couple stepped in front of him, blocking his way.
Over their shoulders, Dajon saw Faith say something to a burly man then nod in Dajon’s direction. Two other men stood on each side of her, smirks on their grimy faces. Passersby quickly looked the other way and crossed the street. Why didn’t anyone come to her rescue? Angling toward the right, Dajon sped past the couple and shoved his way through a mob of sailors, ignoring the curses they flung at his back.
Faith grinned before turning and strutting away.
Dashing past an oncoming carriage, Dajon rushed to catch up to her, but the three men who’d been harassing her formed a barricade of human flesh in his path.
The burly man lowered his thick brows and scowled. “The lady don’t be wantin’ ye followin’ her, sailor.”
One of the other men took a brazen step toward Dajon. “You navy boys think to be gettin’ all the women.” Though gangly, the man’s frame rose far above Dajon’s as he peered down his hawklike nose. Greasy strands of hair stuck to his forehead like tentacles. The stench of sweat and stale fish burned Dajon’s nose.
The third man spit onto the ground, cast a glance at the retreatingFaith, and returned a surly grin to Dajon.
A bawdy tune blasted over them from the tavern as some of its patrons crept out to watch the altercation. A few men stopped in the street and whispered among themselves. Dajon wondered whether he could count on their assistance or if they were merely assembling for the show.
“Three against one.” The first man chortled. “Fair odds, says I.”
“Let me pass at once,” Dajon ordered the men. In the distance, Faith suddenly halted and swung about, but he could not see her expression in the shadows. Blasted woman. Had she instructed these men to delay him? Surely not. She could not be associated with these ruffians.
The burly man laughed. “Why don’t ye go back to yer boat and leave the lady alone.”
Dajon drew his sword and leveled the tip beneath the man’s hairy chin. “Why don’t you step aside and allow me to pass.”
The man did not flinch. Not a flicker of fear crossed his steady gaze.
From the corner of his eye, Dajon saw Faith retracing her steps until she stood behind the men, hands on her hips. He wanted to warn her to stay back, but the men appeared to have no interest in her now.
Her eyes shifted to Dajon’s. No fear, only annoyance burned within them. “I will have you know, gentlemen,” she began in an insolent tone, “that this is the captain of the HMS Enforcer , and he is an expert in swordsmanship.”
Dajon grimaced and lowered his blade. What is she saying? He did not relish a fight. These scoundrels would only take her words as a challenge, especially in front of the crowd forming around them. His palms grew sweaty as he tightened his grip on his sword.
The burly man let out a coarse laugh and slapped his thigh. The other man narrowed his flaming eyes upon Dajon and wiped the spit seeping from the side of his mouth. He eased one hand to his chest. “How are ye with pistols?”
h
Faith shifted her gaze between her crew and the captain. She’d meant only for them to delay Mr. Waite, not kill him. After she had instructed them to gather the rest of the men at the ship in the morning, her foremost thought was to hurry home, inform Lucas, and get some much-needed sleep, not stroll through town on the arm of the man whowould put a noose around her neck if he knew who she was. Besides, the man gave her an unsettled feeling in her stomach, and she didn’t like it—not one bit. The less time spent in his company, the better. But she should have realized her men could not resist taunting a commander in His Majesty’s
Over their shoulders, Dajon saw Faith say something to a burly man then nod in Dajon’s direction. Two other men stood on each side of her, smirks on their grimy faces. Passersby quickly looked the other way and crossed the street. Why didn’t anyone come to her rescue? Angling toward the right, Dajon sped past the couple and shoved his way through a mob of sailors, ignoring the curses they flung at his back.
Faith grinned before turning and strutting away.
Dashing past an oncoming carriage, Dajon rushed to catch up to her, but the three men who’d been harassing her formed a barricade of human flesh in his path.
The burly man lowered his thick brows and scowled. “The lady don’t be wantin’ ye followin’ her, sailor.”
One of the other men took a brazen step toward Dajon. “You navy boys think to be gettin’ all the women.” Though gangly, the man’s frame rose far above Dajon’s as he peered down his hawklike nose. Greasy strands of hair stuck to his forehead like tentacles. The stench of sweat and stale fish burned Dajon’s nose.
The third man spit onto the ground, cast a glance at the retreatingFaith, and returned a surly grin to Dajon.
A bawdy tune blasted over them from the tavern as some of its patrons crept out to watch the altercation. A few men stopped in the street and whispered among themselves. Dajon wondered whether he could count on their assistance or if they were merely assembling for the show.
“Three against one.” The first man chortled. “Fair odds, says I.”
“Let me pass at once,” Dajon ordered the men. In the distance, Faith suddenly halted and swung about, but he could not see her expression in the shadows. Blasted woman. Had she instructed these men to delay him? Surely not. She could not be associated with these ruffians.
The burly man laughed. “Why don’t ye go back to yer boat and leave the lady alone.”
Dajon drew his sword and leveled the tip beneath the man’s hairy chin. “Why don’t you step aside and allow me to pass.”
The man did not flinch. Not a flicker of fear crossed his steady gaze.
From the corner of his eye, Dajon saw Faith retracing her steps until she stood behind the men, hands on her hips. He wanted to warn her to stay back, but the men appeared to have no interest in her now.
Her eyes shifted to Dajon’s. No fear, only annoyance burned within them. “I will have you know, gentlemen,” she began in an insolent tone, “that this is the captain of the HMS Enforcer , and he is an expert in swordsmanship.”
Dajon grimaced and lowered his blade. What is she saying? He did not relish a fight. These scoundrels would only take her words as a challenge, especially in front of the crowd forming around them. His palms grew sweaty as he tightened his grip on his sword.
The burly man let out a coarse laugh and slapped his thigh. The other man narrowed his flaming eyes upon Dajon and wiped the spit seeping from the side of his mouth. He eased one hand to his chest. “How are ye with pistols?”
h
Faith shifted her gaze between her crew and the captain. She’d meant only for them to delay Mr. Waite, not kill him. After she had instructed them to gather the rest of the men at the ship in the morning, her foremost thought was to hurry home, inform Lucas, and get some much-needed sleep, not stroll through town on the arm of the man whowould put a noose around her neck if he knew who she was. Besides, the man gave her an unsettled feeling in her stomach, and she didn’t like it—not one bit. The less time spent in his company, the better. But she should have realized her men could not resist taunting a commander in His Majesty’s
Similar Books
