A Wild Yearning by Penelope Williamson Read Free Book Online Page A

recognized the voice. How could he not, since he had tossed and turned all night while it haunted his nightmares?
    The door to the taproom banged open and Delia McQuaid strode through. She had one hand on her head, holding down a battered straw hat, and from the other hand dangled a lumpy grist sack. She still wore the same muddy, rum-stained clothes from the night before, except she had added to the ensemble a moth-eaten woolen cloak that looked as if it had been plucked straight off the rubbish heap.
    She plopped down on the bench opposite Ty, dropping the grist sack at her feet. He supposed its contents represented all the chit's worldly belongings—it and the paltry rags she wore on her back. He thought with a repressed sigh that the rum-stained bodice was probably the only one she owned.
    Still, now that she was closer he noticed she had cleaned herself up from the filthy wretch she had appeared to be the night before. In fact, to his surprise, she was actually rather pretty. Beneath that grayish grime had been flawless skin, pale as snow flowers except for two pink blooms of color on her cheeks and a slash of bright coral that was her wide, expressive mouth. Her ablutions had even extended to her hair—what he could see of it beneath the floppy brim of the pathetic hat. Last night he had thought her hair to be the dull black of soot, but he saw now that it was shot with ruby lights, giving it a richness that seemed out of place on a tavern wench.
    She sighed loudly, blowing a lock of hair off her forehead. "That damned porter. Ye'd think this was bloody Windsor Castle the way he's a-guardin' the front door." She paused, looked at him for a long moment, then flashed a brilliant smile. "Mornin'."
    Ty said nothing. He drained his tankard of ale and rapped it down on the table. His eyes automatically fell on her breasts, which were straining against the tight lacing of her too-small bodice. It wasn't only that damn sensual, husky voice that had haunted his dreams last night; those breasts had been in there, too.
    It bothered him, this prurient interest he had in this girl's body, this wretched, pathetic waterfront brat. His patient, for God's sake. It was so unprofessional, so unlike himself. Hadn't he always prided himself on his self-control? He decided the fault was all in the fact that he had fallen into bed last night half-drunk and in a state of aching unspent lust. A state which was entirely the fault of the abject creature now sitting across from him.
    He scowled at her from beneath the brim of his cocked hat.
    "Ye look a bit bilious this mornin'," she said.
    "A man of such refined tastes as myself," Ty intoned, "should never indulge in rum that has been debased with arrack, tea, and lemon juice."
    "Huh?"
    "I drank too much of that god-awful punch at the governor's assembly last night. My head feels like a pumpkin that's been kicked by a mule. And you banging around and yowling like a pair of fighting cats doesn't help matters any."
    "Ye were lit last night?" She was staring hungrily at his trencher of salt cod, and Ty thought that if she were a dog she'd be drooling. "Ye could've fooled me, ye could, because ye certainly didn't show it. I can always tell when my da's had a tot or two, right off. Are ye goin' to be eatin' that?"
    Ty shoved the trencher and spoon across the table to her. "Please. Help yourself. How do your ribs feel this morning?"
    She smiled brightly at him. "Oh, ye've magic in yer hands, doctor! They scarce hurt at all anymore."
    She sat, elbows akimbo on the table, and shoveled a heaping spoonful of the salt cod into her mouth, chewed once, swallowed, and shoved in another mouthful. Some of the sauce dribbled down her chin and she wiped it off with the back of her hand.
    "So ye truly were drunk last night? Who'd have thought it?" She grinned at him, showing a mouthful of half-masticated cod. Ty's stomach stirred uncomfortably.
    "Don't talk with your mouth full. And for God's sake chew the stuff a