The Forbidden Lady Read Free

delicately into his lacy handkerchief—“and far too unappreciative of the efforts the mother country takes on their behalf.” He slid his closed snuffbox back into his pocket.
    Virginia planted her hands on her hips. “You speak, perhaps, of Britain’s kindness in providing us with a steady stream of slaves?”
    “Slaves?”
    She gestured toward the raised platform of the forecastle, where Britain’s latest human offering stood in front, chained at the ankles and waiting to be sold.
    “Oh.” He waved his scented handkerchief in dismissal. “You mean the indentured servants. They’re not slaves, my dear, only criminals paying their dues to society. ’Tis the mother country’s fervent hope they will be reformed by their experience in America.”
    “I see. Perhaps we should send the mother country a boatload of American wolves to see if they can be reformed by their experience in Britain?”
    His chuckle was surprisingly deep. “ Touché. ”
    The deep timbre of his voice reverberated through her skin, striking a chord that hummed from her chest down to her belly. She caught her breath and looked at him more closely. When his eyes met hers, his smile faded away. Time seemed to hold still for a moment as he held her gaze, quietly studying her.
    The man in brown cleared his throat.
    Virginia blinked and looked away. She breathed deeply to calm her racing heart. Once more, she became aware of the murmur of voices and the screech of sea gulls overhead. What had happened? It must be the thrill of putting the man in his place that had affected her. Strange, though, that he had happily acknowledged her small victory.
    Mr. Stanton gave the man in brown a mildly irritated look, then smiled at her once more. “American wolves, you say? Really, my dear, these people’s crimes are too petty to compare them to murderous beasts. Why, Johnson, here, was an indentured servant before becoming my secretary. Were you not, Johnson?”
    “Aye, Mr. Stanton,” the older man answered. “But I came voluntarily. Not all these people are prisoners. The group to the right doesn’t wear chains. They’re selling themselves out of desperation.”
    “There, you see.” The dandy spread his gloved hands, palms up, in a gesture of conciliation. “No hard feelings. In fact, I quite trust Johnson here with all my affairs in spite of his criminal background. You know the Colonials are quite wrong in thinking we British are a cold, callous lot.”
    Virginia gave Mr. Johnson a small, sympathetic smile, letting him know she understood his indenture had not been due to a criminal past. Her own father, faced with starvation and British cruelty, had left his beloved Scottish Highlands as an indentured servant. Her sympathy seemed unnecessary, however, for Mr. Johnson appeared unperturbed by his employer’s rudeness. No doubt, the poor man had grown accustomed to it.
    She gave Mr. Stanton her stoniest of looks. “Thank you for enlightening me.”
    “My pleasure, dear gel. Now I must take my leave.” Without further ado, he ambled toward the group of gaunt, shackled humans, his high-heeled shoes clunking on the ship’s wooden deck and his short secretary tagging along behind.
    Virginia scowled at his back. The British needed to go home and the sooner, the better.
    “I say, old man.” She heard his voice filter back as he addressed his servant. “I do wish the pretty wench was for sale. A bit too saucy, perhaps, but I do so like a challenge. Quel dommage , a real pity, don’t you know.”
    A vision of herself tackling the dandy and stuffing his lavender-tinted wig down his throat brought a smile to her lips. She could do it. Sometimes she pinned down her brother when he tormented her. Of course, such behavior might be frowned upon in Boston. This was not the hilly region of North Carolina that the Munro family called home.
    And the dandy might prove difficult to knock down. Watching him from the back, she realized how large he was. She