place. "Twas clasped in 'er 'and wit’ the paper that 'ad yer name on it."
Seanessy motioned to one of the men as Charles appeared with his post. "Check out the other pawnshops in the area as well. She must have had something else with her, even if only some clothes.”
"Yes, right away."
"One last question," Seanessy asked. "Why did you bring her here? Why didn't you just leave her to fate?"
Jack and Redman exchanged glances before Jack looked down, finding a sudden fascination with the large hole at the tip of his boots as he said, "I could not leave 'er there."
"We wanted to, we did," Redman spoke up. "But .. .well—" He stopped, swallowed, and shook his head. "She was too comely by far..."
"I kept thinkin' of me own girl. I know we were the first blokes to find 'er but we weren't goin' to be the last, and 'er bein' so pretty, 'twas plain a lot o' blokes would not care that she canna open 'er eyes. Twas clear she be in trouble too, and, well, we thought there might be a bit of reward and we were goin' to knock on th' door ..."
"Ah, fear set you back, did it? The snake pit, was it?" And when they nodded, Seanessy laughed as Kyler shook his head. Missionaries were as rife as beggars in London streets and the barrel of live snakes proved an excellent deterrent to the endless proselytizing of the zealots. "Well, gentlemen, the only devil I know is fear and it's a mean one at that. All quite unnecessary after all. I hear you've both been after work on the docks?" They looked startled, more surprised as Sean turned to Butcher. "Give them something rich to hold them over and then set them up on the Sovereign Wind; she's due in by Friday, am I right?"
"Ah, Sean," Butcher protested. "A man needs a whip to get a day's labor out of sods like this—"
"Then find a whip, dear man."
"Curse all, Sean." Butcher looked cross. "For all you know these are the worthless sons of bitches that knocked the poor lass on her head!"
"Don't be ridiculous. First of all, Shalyn would not let either of these two close enough to land a blow, would you, darling? Second, would they by some miracle have knock her senseless, strip her, and then extend the kindness necessary to carry her nearly a mile to my house to keep her safe from a raping? I think not. Now off with you two. Gordon—"
Gordon led the two away.
Seanessy finished his breakfast. The men asked questions about her lost memory, but she felt tense and nervous, and not just from the masculine attention. She reached for the necessary composure to escape.
"You might be English but you didn't learn those tricks here. You must have been in the Orient?"
"She remembers Malacca," Seanessy said.
The men exchanged glances. Their Far East shipping enterprise operated from Malacca. "What do you remember about Malacca?"
She remembered in picture-perfect clarity the port at the English settlement of Malacca, the sun-washed white stucco buildings, the church steeple rising above the governor's mansion and Tunku Hamzah nearby: the small village where the natives lived. She knew the lush jungle-covered mountains, the road that circled the bay of crystal-blue water and eventually wound around to the Tampin River.
"I know I have lived there, I feel quite certain of that, but I can only remember the place, its tropical geography, the mountain range and blue of its ocean. I remember the Tampin, its flooding during the monsoons, but when I try to place myself in these pictures or remember who was with me... nothing. I don't remember."
A silence followed, as if they half expected her memory to return as they waited, but saw only her growing distress.
"Well," Butcher finally offered, "there's your connection with Sean—Malacca's our port. We ship from there. Mostly tea now, but some tin and silk."
"But what connection is it?" Seanessy asked. "Why was she given the Oriental training?"
The men explored reasons why someone might have a white girl trained to the arts, and all of them struck her as
Seanessy motioned to one of the men as Charles appeared with his post. "Check out the other pawnshops in the area as well. She must have had something else with her, even if only some clothes.”
"Yes, right away."
"One last question," Seanessy asked. "Why did you bring her here? Why didn't you just leave her to fate?"
Jack and Redman exchanged glances before Jack looked down, finding a sudden fascination with the large hole at the tip of his boots as he said, "I could not leave 'er there."
"We wanted to, we did," Redman spoke up. "But .. .well—" He stopped, swallowed, and shook his head. "She was too comely by far..."
"I kept thinkin' of me own girl. I know we were the first blokes to find 'er but we weren't goin' to be the last, and 'er bein' so pretty, 'twas plain a lot o' blokes would not care that she canna open 'er eyes. Twas clear she be in trouble too, and, well, we thought there might be a bit of reward and we were goin' to knock on th' door ..."
"Ah, fear set you back, did it? The snake pit, was it?" And when they nodded, Seanessy laughed as Kyler shook his head. Missionaries were as rife as beggars in London streets and the barrel of live snakes proved an excellent deterrent to the endless proselytizing of the zealots. "Well, gentlemen, the only devil I know is fear and it's a mean one at that. All quite unnecessary after all. I hear you've both been after work on the docks?" They looked startled, more surprised as Sean turned to Butcher. "Give them something rich to hold them over and then set them up on the Sovereign Wind; she's due in by Friday, am I right?"
"Ah, Sean," Butcher protested. "A man needs a whip to get a day's labor out of sods like this—"
"Then find a whip, dear man."
"Curse all, Sean." Butcher looked cross. "For all you know these are the worthless sons of bitches that knocked the poor lass on her head!"
"Don't be ridiculous. First of all, Shalyn would not let either of these two close enough to land a blow, would you, darling? Second, would they by some miracle have knock her senseless, strip her, and then extend the kindness necessary to carry her nearly a mile to my house to keep her safe from a raping? I think not. Now off with you two. Gordon—"
Gordon led the two away.
Seanessy finished his breakfast. The men asked questions about her lost memory, but she felt tense and nervous, and not just from the masculine attention. She reached for the necessary composure to escape.
"You might be English but you didn't learn those tricks here. You must have been in the Orient?"
"She remembers Malacca," Seanessy said.
The men exchanged glances. Their Far East shipping enterprise operated from Malacca. "What do you remember about Malacca?"
She remembered in picture-perfect clarity the port at the English settlement of Malacca, the sun-washed white stucco buildings, the church steeple rising above the governor's mansion and Tunku Hamzah nearby: the small village where the natives lived. She knew the lush jungle-covered mountains, the road that circled the bay of crystal-blue water and eventually wound around to the Tampin River.
"I know I have lived there, I feel quite certain of that, but I can only remember the place, its tropical geography, the mountain range and blue of its ocean. I remember the Tampin, its flooding during the monsoons, but when I try to place myself in these pictures or remember who was with me... nothing. I don't remember."
A silence followed, as if they half expected her memory to return as they waited, but saw only her growing distress.
"Well," Butcher finally offered, "there's your connection with Sean—Malacca's our port. We ship from there. Mostly tea now, but some tin and silk."
"But what connection is it?" Seanessy asked. "Why was she given the Oriental training?"
The men explored reasons why someone might have a white girl trained to the arts, and all of them struck her as
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