Winds of Folly by Seth Hunter Page A

And then, after their bloody defeat, fled south to her birthplace on the shores of the Mediterranean.
    Nathan had found her in the
manoir
that had once been her family home and brought her back to the
Unicorn
. But they had not made love during their brief reunion on the frigate. Nathan had experienced a certain delicacy of feeling about itand indeed, there had been little opportunity before Sara’s departure for England. Even so, it was regrettable. He wondered if they would ever rekindle the passion they had felt for each other in Paris. And he wondered at his own feelings, whether they were as strong now, knowing she was alive, as they had been when he had thought she was dead.
    These reflections were brought to an abrupt end by the return of the Angel Gabriel, who staggered through the tent flap, burdened with Nathan’s flute, his music-stand and a leather folder containing his music. He also brought a request from Signora Correglia. She wished to speak with him in private.
    â€˜Send her up,’ Nathan instructed him as he removed the flute from its case.
    Gabriel considered him coldly. ‘Then you will be wanting your uniform coat,’ he proposed.
    â€˜No, no. It is quite all right. She may take me as I am,’ Nathan instructed him cheerfully.
    Gabriel’s jaw moved fractionally. Their relationship was a long and enduring one but it was not without its trials. When Nathan was a child – and Gabriel his father’s steward – they had frequently failed to see eye to eye in the matter of Nathan’s dress and deportment. Nathan could recall times when he had been seized by the collar and given a salutary thwacking before having his head thrust under the kitchen pump and his recalcitrant limbs forced into the preferred attire. It was clear from Gabriel’s expression that he had not put this recourse entirely out of mind, but the subsequent alteration in their status making this a hanging offence, he gave a perfunctory nod and departed upon his errand. To be succeeded, in due course, by La Correglia.
    â€˜Signora,’ Nathan greeted her with feigned enthusiasm, laying aside his flute and making a bow.
    â€˜
Capitano
,’ she responded graciously. Her eyes settled upon the Turkish carpet and Nathan perceived a glint of recognition. ‘You make yourself
comodo
, I see.’
    â€˜I do indeed. And you are as comfortable in my cabin?’
    â€˜It is of this I wish to speak with you.’
    Nathan indicated that she should be seated and they took up their stations at opposite ends of the table like wary negotiators at a peace conference. ‘If it is about the guns …’ he began. Even in his present state of lassitude, Nathan was not prepared to compromise over the guns. He would have defended his guns to the death. But it was not about the guns. The Signora, it appeared, was concerned about what would happen when they reached their destination.
    â€˜Ah.’ Nathan had been somewhat concerned about this himself. ‘Well, I assume you would wish to find suitable accommodation for yourselves in San Fiorenzo,’ he replied smoothly enough and with a creditable effort to hide his unease on this score.
    â€˜Where?’
    â€˜Where? Well …’
    â€˜You think the women of San Fiorenzo make the welcome for us? Ha! You think the English wives leave the room for us? Ha! Seven lady without the ’usband?’
    â€˜I am sure something can be arranged,’ Nathan persisted. ‘You will not be left destitute, I do assure you.’
    This elicited another
Ha!
Even louder and more scornful than those that had preceded it.
    â€˜And what we do there?’
    â€˜What do you do there?’
    â€˜
Sí
. In San Fiorenzo, what we do?’
    Nathan, if he had thought about it at all, had imagined they would do much the same as they had done in Leghorn, with whatever adjustment to their standards and fees as might berequired. However, it would