Beauvallet by Georgette Heyer Read Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Georgette Heyer
quickly at that, and set his hands on her shoulders. ‘Why do you shrink? Do you think I would offer you hurt indeed?’
‘No – that is, I do not know at all, señor, and nor do I care!’
‘Brave words, but still you shrank. What, do you know so little of me even now? You shall be better acquainted with me, I promise you.’
‘You are hurting me! Let me go!’
He held her slightly away from him, and seemed to puzzle over her. ‘How do I hurt you? By holding you thus?’
‘Your fingers grip me well-nigh to the bone,’ said Dominica crossly.
He smiled. ‘I am not gripping you at all, sweetheart, and well you know it.’
‘Let me go!’
‘But if I do you will run away,’ he pointed out.
‘I wonder that you desire to talk to one who – who hates you!’
‘Not I, child. But you do not hate me.’
‘I do! I do!’
‘God's Death, then, why do you play poor Diccon on your line to tease me?’
That was too much for the lady. She hit him, full across his smiling mouth.
It was no sooner done that she knew a frightened leap of the heart, an instant regret, for he swooped quickly, caught her hands fast in his, and locked them behind her back. She looked up, in part afraid, in part defiant, and saw him laughing still.
‘Now what do you think you deserve of me?’ Beauvallet asked.
She had recourse to her strongest weapon, and burst into tears. She was set free on the instant.
‘Sweetheart, sweetheart!’ Beauvallet said remorsefully. ‘Here's no matter for tears! What, am I so grim an ogre? I did but tease you, child. Look up! Nay, but smile! See, I will kiss the very hem of your gown! Only do not weep!’ He was on his knee before her; she looked down through her tears at his bent head, more shaken still, and heard footsteps coming up the companion leading from the waist of the ship. She touched Beauvallet's crisp hair fleetingly. ‘Oh, do not! One comes – get up, get up!’
He sprang up as his Master appeared at the head of the companion, and stepped quickly forward to shield Dominica from this worthy's notice.
It was easily possible now for her to escape below decks. Sir Nicholas’ attention was held by his Master; the way lay open to her. Dona Dominica walked to the bulwarks, and carefully dried her eyes, and stood looking out to sea.
In a minute or two the Master's retreating steps sounded, and a lighter footfall, nearer at hand. Beauvallet's fingers covered hers as they lay on the rail. ‘Forgive the rough, boisterous fellow!’ he begged.
The tone won her; a dimple peeped, and was gone. ‘You use me monstrously,’ complained Dominica.
‘But you do not hate me?’
She left that unanswered. ‘I cannot find it in me to envy the lady you take to wife,’ she said.
‘Nay, how should you?’
She looked sharply up at that, blushed, and turned her face away. ‘I do not know how the English ladies can bear with you, señor.’
He looked merrily down at her. ‘Why, I have not called upon them to bear with me, señora.’
She faced him suddenly. ‘You will scarce have me believe you have not trifled often and often!’ she said hotly. ‘No doubt ye deem women of small account!’
‘I do not deem you of small account, child.’
She smiled disdainfully. ‘You are mightily apt. Do you use this manner with the English ladies, pray?’
‘Nay, sweetheart, this is the manner I use,’ Sir Nicholas answered, and promptly kissed her.
Dominica choked, pushed him violently away, and fled down the companion to her cabin. She found her woman there, and was at once conscious of a heightened colour, and ruffled hair. Maria, noting these portents and the storm in her mistress’ eyes, set her arms akimbo and looked fiercely. ‘That bully!’ she said darkly. ‘He has insulted you, señorita? He dared to lay his hands on you?’
Dominica was biting her handkerchief; her eyes looked this way and that, and at the end she laughed uneasily. ‘He kissed me,’ she said.
‘I will tear the
‘No – that is, I do not know at all, señor, and nor do I care!’
‘Brave words, but still you shrank. What, do you know so little of me even now? You shall be better acquainted with me, I promise you.’
‘You are hurting me! Let me go!’
He held her slightly away from him, and seemed to puzzle over her. ‘How do I hurt you? By holding you thus?’
‘Your fingers grip me well-nigh to the bone,’ said Dominica crossly.
He smiled. ‘I am not gripping you at all, sweetheart, and well you know it.’
‘Let me go!’
‘But if I do you will run away,’ he pointed out.
‘I wonder that you desire to talk to one who – who hates you!’
‘Not I, child. But you do not hate me.’
‘I do! I do!’
‘God's Death, then, why do you play poor Diccon on your line to tease me?’
That was too much for the lady. She hit him, full across his smiling mouth.
It was no sooner done that she knew a frightened leap of the heart, an instant regret, for he swooped quickly, caught her hands fast in his, and locked them behind her back. She looked up, in part afraid, in part defiant, and saw him laughing still.
‘Now what do you think you deserve of me?’ Beauvallet asked.
She had recourse to her strongest weapon, and burst into tears. She was set free on the instant.
‘Sweetheart, sweetheart!’ Beauvallet said remorsefully. ‘Here's no matter for tears! What, am I so grim an ogre? I did but tease you, child. Look up! Nay, but smile! See, I will kiss the very hem of your gown! Only do not weep!’ He was on his knee before her; she looked down through her tears at his bent head, more shaken still, and heard footsteps coming up the companion leading from the waist of the ship. She touched Beauvallet's crisp hair fleetingly. ‘Oh, do not! One comes – get up, get up!’
He sprang up as his Master appeared at the head of the companion, and stepped quickly forward to shield Dominica from this worthy's notice.
It was easily possible now for her to escape below decks. Sir Nicholas’ attention was held by his Master; the way lay open to her. Dona Dominica walked to the bulwarks, and carefully dried her eyes, and stood looking out to sea.
In a minute or two the Master's retreating steps sounded, and a lighter footfall, nearer at hand. Beauvallet's fingers covered hers as they lay on the rail. ‘Forgive the rough, boisterous fellow!’ he begged.
The tone won her; a dimple peeped, and was gone. ‘You use me monstrously,’ complained Dominica.
‘But you do not hate me?’
She left that unanswered. ‘I cannot find it in me to envy the lady you take to wife,’ she said.
‘Nay, how should you?’
She looked sharply up at that, blushed, and turned her face away. ‘I do not know how the English ladies can bear with you, señor.’
He looked merrily down at her. ‘Why, I have not called upon them to bear with me, señora.’
She faced him suddenly. ‘You will scarce have me believe you have not trifled often and often!’ she said hotly. ‘No doubt ye deem women of small account!’
‘I do not deem you of small account, child.’
She smiled disdainfully. ‘You are mightily apt. Do you use this manner with the English ladies, pray?’
‘Nay, sweetheart, this is the manner I use,’ Sir Nicholas answered, and promptly kissed her.
Dominica choked, pushed him violently away, and fled down the companion to her cabin. She found her woman there, and was at once conscious of a heightened colour, and ruffled hair. Maria, noting these portents and the storm in her mistress’ eyes, set her arms akimbo and looked fiercely. ‘That bully!’ she said darkly. ‘He has insulted you, señorita? He dared to lay his hands on you?’
Dominica was biting her handkerchief; her eyes looked this way and that, and at the end she laughed uneasily. ‘He kissed me,’ she said.
‘I will tear the