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

few times before you swallow it," he admonished.
    The grin froze on her mouth, then her jaw snapped shut. Furious color flooded in a tide up her neck and over her face, and she swallowed—so hard he saw the movement of it in her throat. The spoon, clutched awkwardly in her fist, trembled slightly.
    Then her chin came up. Slowly, she dipped the spoon into the trencher and carefully brought it up to her mouth. Her lips opened into the tiniest slit and she took a dainty piece of fish off the spoon. She chewed it very, very slowly, her eyes fastened on his face, and the silence stretched out long between them.
    Christ, Ty thought with a shudder. What have I done? He drummed his fingers on the table. Had he really agreed to take this wretched tavern wench back with him to Merrymeeting to be Nat's bride and caretaker to those poor, motherless children? Stalwart, plodding Nathaniel Parkes, a man who was psalm reader at the Sabbath-day meeting, a man who had once shyly admitted to Ty that he'd known in the biblical sense only one woman in his life, and that woman was his wife of ten years, a wife dead a bare two months. Ty tried to picture Nat with the girl sitting across from him, a girl who had probably been turning two-shilling tricks since she was thirteen.
    He swallowed a sigh. "This grog shop you work in—"
    "The Frisky Lyon." More cream sauce trickled down her chin; she smeared it off with her fingers, then wiped them on her skirt. "Only I don't work there no more. Not since I poured a noggin of rum all over Jake Steerborn's head and flattened his fat nose with a tray—all 'cause he got t' feelin' a little too frisky." She laughed, spraying bits of soggy cod all over the table. Ty's stomach heaved.
    "Christ, Delia, you have the manners of a pig!"
    "Well, excuse me all over!" she snapped back at him. But her feelings had been hurt, for a moment later she dropped the spoon into the trencher with a clatter and stared down at her lap. Ty cursed himself.
    "I'm sorry." He reached across and touched her hand where it lay on the table. Seeing her hand, so pale and insubstantial against the heavy dark wood, made Ty realize just how thin and frail she was. Jesus, he thought, the chit's half starved and you're railing at her about her table manners.
    "When was the last time you got a good, decent meal inside of you?"
    She shrugged. "Yesterday sometime. I had a collop of cold pork an' a slice of bread."
    He nudged the trencher of salt cod. "Go on, finish that up. Or would you like something else?"
    She shoved it back at him. "I've had sufficient, thank ye."
    His lips twitched at the way she said it— I've had sufficient, thank ye —as if she'd practiced it for hours in front of a looking glass, hoping someday for the appropriate occasion to use it. He thought of that pugnacious chin of hers that came right up at the slightest provocation. Her pride amused and touched him.
    Yes, she had pride, and a strange dignity in spite of her grimy, ragged appearance and her abominable manners. It was because of the pride and dignity inherent in the person of Delia McQuaid that he had picked her out from all the other whores and slatterns and desperate, downtrodden women who had come to him hoping for a chance at three square meals and a roof over their heads in return for slaving on a farm and warming a man's bed. Her pride... and later seeing the horrifying bruises on her body... had more than convinced him his decision was the right one. His face hardened with renewed anger at the memory. At least if he took her to Merrymeeting he would be saving her from her drunken bastard of a father.
    He realized she had been speaking to him. "I beg your pardon?"
    "I was askin' ye what the governor's assembly was like. I'll bet ye there was music an' dancing an' card playing an' everything." She sighed. Her eyes, Ty suddenly noticed, were beautiful—a rich, tawny gold with a starburst of green in the centers. They shone brightly at him. "Oh, what I would