Virgin Star by Jennifer Horsman Page B

oceangoing vessel. The great Dutch seven-hundred-tonner measured one hundred and sixty feet along her main deck and thirty-four feet at the beam, with not three but four towering masts. It might have been a fishing boat for all his admiration. He thought the ornate bulkhead and gilded stern ridiculously extravagant, rather than elegant. The tremendous power packed in the neat row of over twenty cannon was observed with more interest, then dismissed as inadequate to defend its enormous cargo hulls—he understood these oversized ships were relatively easy prey to pirates. .
    A breeze blew across the crowded docks, scattering a few fat raindrops. He turned up the fur-lined, tailored redingote, and with his gold-handled cane out front, he moved toward the ship. The two men followed him obediently. Boxes were piled up three high around the wide wood plank, yet no men guarded it or the cargo crowding the dock. A brow rose at the curiosity. No one was in sight.
    The three men started up the plank.
    A low vicious growl stopped them before the second step. They all looked up. Standing at the top of the plank was a creature as large and wide as a carnival bear. The black and white fur lifted on its thick coat and it stood poised, looking a split second from a decision to attack. The enormous animal barked, low and mean, then its lips curled over large white teeth in a snarl.
    The man held up his hand to the two behind him before rather calmly opening his coat. He grasped his waist pistol and slowly drew it out. The dog barked again, then howled for help, alarmed by this. He aimed the barrel to the right first, judging how quickly he could get in the two shots, not willing to take any chances. The barking sounded viciously. A strong forefinger edged the trigger—
    "You shoot and you're as good as gutted."
    The three men's anxious gazes flew around the immediate surroundings, but there was nothing and no one. Light footsteps approached the place where the dog stood on deck above the plank. "All right, all right. Let’s see what you caught this time."
    A face appeared above the dog. A red scarf covered dark curly hair falling to a wide arch of shoulders. The man leaned over slightly as if one with the creature, and he did not smile. "What's your business, man?"
    The Frenchman kept his uncertain gaze on the dog, still snarling. "Monsieur, the creature?"
    Edward raised a tattooed forearm. The dog sat. He lowered his hand. The dog lay down, watching with keen animal interest, but showing no sign of a threat.
    "May I ascend, monsieur?"
    "That all depends on your business. I've got no time for peddlers today," he said, then noticing the expensive tailored clothes—a gent's garb—and the two dark-skinned Arabs, men who looked so strangely similar to each other, he added, "especially the religious kind."
    "I am on a mission of inquiry, monsieur, no more. I need but a moment or two to ask my questions."
    The Frenchman's English was flawless. "Come along then," Edward said, watching as the finely dressed gentleman climbed aboard, the two men behind him. "You can leave the baggage."
    The Frenchman hesitated before passing quick words in an Arab tongue. The two men fell back to assume two straight-backed positions on either side of the plank. Trained like old Oly here, Edward thought.
    The Frenchman proceeded up the plank. As he came to the deck, he looked briefly around the main deck: the tall masts over galley lofts and carpenter's room the main cabins. His gaze swept the well-scrubbed decks, neat coils of rope, and stacked crates of goods.
    Observing with a judgment shrewder than most, Edward asked pointedly and with no humor, "Is it all fine enough for you now?"
    The dark eyes settled on Edward's tall frame at last, naked to the waist. The man's well-muscled physique gleamed with a faint sheen of perspiration, despite the cool, fair breeze of the day. A tattoo in carefully penned Latin beneath a magnificent picture of a ship spread across an