Forgotten Fragrance Read Free Page B

I’m not feeling sick. I don’t suffer from seasickness. The voyage out here from England cured me of it, though I’d far rather be up here than confined below decks.’
    A jolt of surprise raced through him. He wouldn’t have picked her for a convict even though most of the inhabitants of Hobart Town were London’s rejects.
    â€˜Oh!’ Charlotte’s hand covered her pretty mouth. ‘I wasn’t supposed to mention it. Mr Wainwright prefers me not to allude to my past.’
    â€˜Ticket-of-leave?’ he asked, in some strange way delighted to be discussing it when the upright Mr Marcus Wainwright didn’t approve. The black-clad gentleman’s supercilious nature and holier-than-though attitude rubbed him up the wrong way.
    â€˜Not yet. I’m a bonded convict, assigned to Mr Wainwright. He carries my papers. I’ve worked for him for the last six years, ever since I arrived in Van Diemen’s Land. We’re to be married in Sydney once my sentence is over. A fresh start for me while he searches out new business ventures.’
    The flat acceptance in her voice piqued his curiosity. It didn’t belong to a woman embarking on a new beginning with her husband-to-be. And why hadn’t the man married her already? It was common practise. She didn’t need to serve out her sentence if she married. He shrugged his shoulders. None of his business. ‘We’re on our way to your new start. Say goodbye to Hobart Town. And be prepared for it to get rough.’
    The sun shone on the golden yellow of the acacia trees growing in profusion on the riverbank and accentuated the myriad of colours in her hair. She stifled another pretty laugh and shook her head. ‘I won’t be ill, I promise you.’
    â€˜I’ll hold you to it. I think I should find you somewhere a little safer. I don’t want my paying passengers washed overboard. Come with me and I’ll show you how we sail the Zephyrus .’
    Christian’s pulse quickened as he fought down the desire to reach out and touch her. Her smile lit her face with such an unexpected radiance and her eyes, the dark grey-blue of thunderclouds, danced in delight.
    â€˜This is where the Derwent River meets the Southern Ocean. There’s Iron Pot.’ He pointed to the craggy island ahead. ‘Once we round the light we will truly test your stomach.’
    â€˜Iron Pot?’ She raised an eyebrow as if she thought he might be teasing her.
    â€˜Yes. Iron Pot light. You must have passed it when you arrived. There’s been a lamp here for a few years now. A couple of poor blighters man it and live in tents. Three ships went down in as many years so they set it up; one had three hundred free women settlers aboard.’
    Charlotte gasped and raised her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with distress. ‘How terrible.’
    He could have kicked himself. Too used to being aboard ship with a bunch of rough and ready men he’d forgotten women took things harder, and besides, she would be remembering her own arrival on a transport, stuck below decks not watching the sights. ‘I’m sorry. It was inconsiderate of me.’
    A smile transformed her quivering lips. ‘It was a long time ago. I’m not ashamed of my past, only sorry for the poor women who never had a chance.’ She waved his remark away then stretched up on her toes to get a better view. ‘Iron Pot is a funny name for a lighthouse.’
    â€˜No one rightly knows how it got its name. Some say it’s because the original light was a whale oil beacon in an old try pot, the iron cauldrons the whalemen use for oil. Old Jonas used to say the bay whalers dumped their pots there. Who knows?’
    From the wheel the panorama of the open ocean spread out as far as the eye could see. Snowy white clouds scudded across the brilliant cobalt sky above the dark streak of the horizon. A deep feeling of peace settled on his