“Madam,” he called. “Come no further. These are not the usual—”
“What is the meaning of this?” Shanna demanded indignantly and slowed her pace only when he stood before her. “There can be little cause to treat good men like swine, Mister Ralston. Unchain them!”
“But, madam, I cannot.”
“Cannot!” Shanna repeated incredulously. She flung her arms akimbo beneath the enveloping cloak. “You forget your place, Mister Ralston! How dare you tell me nay!”
“Madam,” he implored. “These men—”
“Do not burden my ear with excuses,” she returned sharply. “If these men are to be of any use to my father, they cannot be beaten and bruised and worn raw with chains. The voyage will be hard enough on them.”
The thin man half pleaded, half argued. “Madam, I cannot free them here on the dock. I have paid your father’s good money, and most would fly if given the chance. At least let me see them—”
“Mister Ralston.” Shanna’s tone was firm yet bitingly calm. “I said release them. Now!”
“But, Madam Beauchamp!”
Suddenly one of the bondsmen nearby halted in midstride, and the others about him staggered as their chains slapped and jerked about their ankles. A loud shout bellowed from a guard who ran toward him.
“ ’Ere, ye bloody beggar! Get a move on now. Do ye think ye be takin’ a stroll through Covent Garden?”
He raised his cudgel to clout the shackled man, catching Shanna’s eye. Angrily she whirled around, flinging the hood back to her shoulders, and the bondsman cowered away, covering his head with his arms as if more afraid of her than any club his tormentor would use.
“You abuse my father’s property!” Shanna was aghast at the audacity of the escort. She stepped toward them as if to take action herself upon the stammering guard, but she found her arm seized in Ralston’s hand.
“Madam, do not trust these men.” His concern was genuine, for he knew the penalty if harm came to Squire Trahern’s daughter. “They are desperate and would—”
Seething, Shanna slowly faced the agent. Her tone was low and scathing as she demanded, “Take your hand from me!”
In a helpless gesture the man nodded his head and obeyed. “Madam Beauchamp, your father bound me to your safety—”
“My father would banish you from Los Camellos if he knew of your treatment of these men,” Shanna snapped. “Do not tempt me to enlighten him, Mister Ralston.”
The muscles in his narrow jaw worked. “Madam has grown spurs since her marriage.”
“Aye,” Shanna assured him heartily. “And they’re sharp. Take heed lest they prick you.”
“It bemuses me, madam, why you are ever at odds with me. Do I but attend your father’s bidding?”
She scoffed caustically. “Only too well.”
“Then madam, where is the wrong in that?” His hawkish eyes fixed on her.
“The wrong is what you do in the course of keeping my father’s commands,” she flung sharply. “If you had any degree of decency—”
Ralston’s dark brow raised mockingly. “Like your late husband, madam?”
Shanna’s first instinct was to slap his leering face. She was filled with almost uncontrollable loathing for the man, and no mere words could do justice to the way she felt. With jaw set she cast a glare behind her to the guard who stood decidedly less menacing, his gangling arms hanging to his sides. The bondsman was scarcely to be seen, having crowded himself in the midst of his fellow companions, out of harm’s way.
A shout from the ship echoed through the misty haze, bringing Shanna’s attention to Captain Duprey who leaped down the gangway and rushed to join them.
“Mon Dieu! What iz this?” he insisted.
He saw the bondsmen standing silently and assayed the situation quickly.
“You zere!” He almost danced as he waved his arm at the guards. “Get zese men aboard and take zhem below. Ze mate will direct you. Go now!”
Captain Duprey’s swarthy face beamed in a wide smile as he faced Shanna. He swept his plumed tricorn flamboyantly before his stocky frame as be bowed from the waist.
“Madame Beauchamp, you should not be here on the dock,” he very tenderly admonished. “And certainment not so near zese filthy wretches.”
Shanna coyly implored him with both speech and eye. “Captain Duprey, I cannot tolerate chains, and I would see these poor men treated more reasonably.” She delayed a moment in her plea until the last bondslave had passed onto the ship, then entreated, “They’re on your ship now, captain. I beg of you, have the chains struck and treat them well.”
“Madame!” The thin black mustache twitched upward as he grinned, and his black eyes flashed with warm lights. “I cannot refuse. I shall zee to eet immediatement.”
“Sir!” The sharp bark from Ralston halted him. “I warn you! They are my charges, and I will give the orders—”
Captain Duprey held up a hand to stop him as he gazed again into those soft, pleading blue-green eyes. “Madame Beauchamp iz right!” he defended gallantly. “No man should be bound in iron chains. With ze salt, zey rot ze skin and it takes weeks to heal.”
Seizing Shanna’s small hand impulsively, the Frenchman pressed a kiss to it fervently. “I go at your bidding, madame,” he murmured and dashed away like one on a dire errand.
Ralston snorted his disgust but knew he had lost. He spun on his heels and stalked away.
Content with her victory, Shanna watched him go, a self-satisfied smile curving her lovely lips. But realizing she now stood alone on the dock, she lifted her skirts and began to hurry toward the ship. Heavy footsteps followed her and, pausing with pounding heart, she found Pitney close behind her. There was, after all, no cause to fear, but it was the slow, amused grin spreading across the man’s lips as he stared after Ralston that gave her cause to puzzle.
WELL BEFORE DAWN SHANNA was awakened by the chant of voices from the main deck. Still drowsy with slumber, she raised her head from the pillow but could see no light of morning through the thick, small windows in the cabin. More shouts from above told her the ship was being winched out on her anchor chain into the main stream of the Thames. With a slight rocking motion, the vessel rode free and then steadied as the sails were spread to catch the early offshore breezes. With the gentle swaying of the ship, Shanna was soon snuggled deep within the downy folds of sleep.
The first night underway Madam Beauchamp was formally invited to share the captain’s table with several of his officers and Ralston. Through the following weeks it became the routine and most often the high spot of the day. It broke the monotony of the voyage whenever the group gathered to partake of the evening’s repast, share a glass of wine or two from the fine and varied stock, and engage in light repartee. The French cook was a man of considerable talent, and the meals were provided with a pleasant note of decorum, for a young cabin boy, garbed in spotless white, served the table. Having been acquainted with the captain and his officers for several years, Shanna enjoyed the hour and displayed her most gay and charming wit beneath their chivalrous attentions. Ralston, however, was inclined to join these affairs with reluctance. He might not have at all, but his only other options were to dine with the crew or alone on the deck. Sourly he grumbled at the richness of the fare and had the brashness to comment after a full seven courses had been served of especially delectable cuisine, and just when they were enjoying the “issue de la table” of crystallized fruit and sugared almonds, that he would have much preferred a good Welsh kidney stew. His remark was met with carefully blank stares from table mates.