A Wild Yearning by Penelope Williamson Read Free Book Online

frankly, I've run out of time and the inclination to interview any more desperate females." He tied off the binding with quick, deft strokes. "You can get dressed now."
    While Delia put her clothes back on, he went over to a lowboy on one side of the hearth where a pewter pitcher and cups had been set out on a tray. He poured wine from the pitcher into one of the cups and carried it to the gateleg table. He spoke while he worked.
    "Look, Delia, whatever you decide won't be irreversible, at least not until you and Nat actually marry. It's easy enough to catch a sloop at Falmouth going west, except during the winter months, of course, when the bay is frozen over. If once you get to Merrymeeting you decide you can't abide the place or you can't abide Nat, or he can't abide you, then you'll be shipped back to Boston. At my expense."
    Delia made a face at his back. Lord, he made her sound like a piece of merchandise. Returned due to inferior quality.
    Ty stirred the crushed leaves from the pestle into the cup of wine. He brought it over to her. "Drink this."
    She eyed the cup suspiciously. "What is it?"
    "Something to make the pain go away."
    As she reached for the cup her fingers brushed his and she felt the jolt of it all the way down to her toes. But if he had felt anything as well, she couldn't tell by looking at him.
    She drained the cup and handed it to him. She started to wipe her mouth on the back of her hand, remembering not to only just in time. "Well..." she said, feeling suddenly awkward. "Uh, when—"
    "Be here tomorrow morning at eight o'clock. That doesn't give you much time, I know, but we should have left two days ago. It's going to take us a good three weeks of hard traveling to get there."
    Three weeks! Delia hadn't realized the place was so far away. Suddenly the thought of setting off for such a distant wilderness filled her with fear. But the lure was so tempting— the promise of a fresh start, a new life, a home of her own and a man to take care of her, a man who needed her and waited there for her, or someone like her—a lonely, desperate woman to be wife to him and mother to his two children. It all pulled her to Merrymeeting...
    Her head was drawn up to meet the force of the doctor's compelling eyes. She remembered the feel of his hands on her flesh where he had touched her. And him, a small voice cried out inside her, a voice she tried without success to squelch. Ye're going because of him.
    "Well... till the mornin' then," she said. She started for the door, but he stopped her by softly calling her name.
    "What about your father? When you tell him you're leaving, will he...?"
    She smiled and waved a hand, as if brushing away his concern. "Oh, ye needn't think he'll come after me any more this night. Nay, he'll be flat out on his tick by now, a-flappin' the roof with his snores."
    He smiled back at her, and she felt a strange flutter under her bound-up ribs. "Then I'll see you tomorrow morning," he said. "Don't bring any more with you than you can comfortably carry."
    She laughed at that, feeling suddenly happy and wonderfully free. "Go on with ye, doctor," she scoffed. "I don't own any more than I can comfortably carry."

Chapter 3
    Tyler Savitch grimaced at the trencher of food before him. Salt cod drenched in a sauce of butter and eggs and heavily spiced with pepper. It was supposed to be the specialty of the Red Dragon Inn, but after one look and one whiff, his abused insides had risen in revolt.
    He looked around the empty taproom, seeking someone who could take it away and bring him something bland, such as a bowl of samp or a piece of toasted bread. He was just about to get up in search of a servant when his ears were assaulted by loud bangs and a terrible squawking noise coming from the hall.
    "Aooow! I told ye, ye damn idiot, that he's expectin' me!"
    This was followed by a husky voice sputtering a string of cuss words bluer than any Ty had heard outside of a Sagadahoc lumber camp. He