Moontide Embrace (Historical Romance) Read Free

knowing his mother had won. He would never allow her to face her father without him at her side. "When would you like to leave?" he asked, admitting defeat.
    Her smile was bright. Then she touched her lips to his cheek. "I believe good things will come from this visit. As you know, my father is wealthy beyond anything you can imagine. Perhaps I can persuade him to give you the money to make the needed repairs on the Winged Vic tory."
    "No, that is the one thing you must not do, Mother. I will never take money from a man who denied my existence and swore that you married beneath you when you wed my father. I want nothing from him."
    "But you will go with me?"
    "If it is your wish."
    She laid her head against his broad shoulder. "You are a good son, Judah."
    "I can only imagine how you must have twisted my father around your little finger. I myself can never resist your pleas."
    "No, no. It was always the other way around. Your father could charm the birds from the trees when he wanted to. You are a rake, and have your father's glib tongue. If you can so easily charm me, do you not think you must be devastating to the inexperienced young ladies of your acquaintance?"
    His laughter was warm. "How can I answer such a question without appearing to be an egotistical fool?"
    Gabrielle laughed softly. "No need to answer, you scoundrel. I have had any number of young ladies inquir ing as to when the Winged Victory would put into port. It is my belief that you could pick and choose a bride from among Boston's finest families."
    "I believe you are deliberately trying to flatter me, Mother. Could it be that you are trying to lure me into a marriage with someone of your choosing."
    Gabrielle laughed merrily. "I leave the choosing of a bride to you, Judah." A mischievous light sparkled in her eyes. "Still, I would not say no to Abby Munsinger. She is a lovely young lady."
    "Her feet are too large, her ankles too thin."
    Gabrielle pretended shocked surprise. "How would you know about her ankles?"
    He smiled. "I notice the small details."
    "And Carrie Lundigan?"
    "I cannot abide her twittering laugh."
    "Sissy Dewitt?"
    "Too skinny. Did anyone ever tell you that you are a meddlesome woman, Mother?"
    "On occasion," she replied, undaunted in her quest. "How about Maggie Dewitt?"
    "Too stout." Judah held up his hand. "Can we not talk about something else? Tell me more about the letter from your father."
    Gabrielle Slaughter removed the crumpled letter from her pocket and lovingly pressed the wrinkles out before replacing it in the envelope. "I could not believe it when the letter came. After all these years, I was sure my father would never consent to see me again. Imagine him chang ing his mind."
    Judah clamped his jaw together tightly so he would not be tempted to express his own views on his grandfather's belated invitation—belated by twenty-five years. Judah thought of the man as an unfeeling bastard who still wanted his own way. Seeing the wistfulness in his mother's eyes, he knew it was best to let her put her own interpreta tion on the letter.
    "I know what you are thinking, Judah, but you are wrong."
    He smiled down at the tiny woman who had been his whole world for so much of his young life. She had kept them going despite impossible odds, and now she never complained when he was at sea for months at a time, but welcomed him joyously when he returned. "What am I thinking, Mother?"
    "You are thinking that I should have thrown this invitation back in my father's face, but you do not know him as I do. I always knew the day would come when he would want to see you, so he could judge for himself how you had turned out. He has no family other than his younger brother's son, Sebastian. He is an old man, and wants to see his only grandson. I will be proud to present you to him. I believe he will find you are a credit to the Montesquieu name."
    Judah's reaction was swift. His turquoise eyes blazed, and his chin set in a stubborn line. "I bear