Embrace the Day by Susan Wiggs Read Free Book Online

Roarke Adair materialized suddenly at her side.
    "It didn't take you long to make a formidable reputation for yourself, Mrs. Culpeper." His face was stern, but there was an unmistakable glint of humor in the uncompromising blue of his eyes.
    She bit her lip. "How did you know?"
    "Seems there're no secrets on shipboard. We all live too closely for privacy. News of your fight with the Wingfield woman spread like lightning."
    "I didn't think. I'm off to a bad start, then."
    "Certainly not. You're something of a heroine now. 'Tis clear Nell Wingfield meant to run things among the women, but you bested her."
    "I had to. If I'd let her have her way today, she would have deviled us all through this voyage."
    Roarke chuckled. "She won't trouble you again, Gennie. That's the way it is with bullies. They need to be shown their place, and you did that."
    "I'm glad you're pleased," Genevieve said dryly.
    He raised an eyebrow at her. "Touchy, aren't you?"
    "I don't want to be known as a harridan. And I don't think this is amusing at all."
    "I see." He grew serious, intense. "You know, Gennie, your eyes shine when you're angry. And your cheeks are flushed a remarkable color—like a ripe plum."
    She felt her face grow hot and turned away. "You shouldn't talk like that, Mr. Adair."
    "Gennie—"
    She jumped away. "Stop calling me that!"
    But he moved close, impaling her with his blue-eyed stare. "The voyage is long, and the days lonely. You're starved already for companionship, Gennie. I can see it in your eyes."
    "Go away, Roarke Adair. I despise your attitude toward me. You admire my skills at brawling; you pay me pretty compliments and expect me to fall at your feet."
    His eyes hardened. "This is an honest offer of friendship, Gennie."
    "I suggest you try your charms on your wife, then. Because I happen to know that Prudence needs your friendship more than I." Genevieve fled, her mind in a turmoil of anger and something worse, something she might mistake for softness if she didn't despise Roarke Adair so.

    The voyage went smoothly under the expert guidance of Captain Chauncey Button, who chose the shorter, more turbulent northern route over the balmy southern way, making for the waters about Greenland. The
Blessing
got a good offing well clear of the Bay of Biscay, thus avoiding the treacherous coast of Cape Finisterre.
    The ship was cold, perpetually wet, and conditions below decks were barely tolerable. A candle lantern cast a dim yellow light over the women's quarters, where the air reeked of vomit, bilge, and unwashed women.
    The older women huddled on their bunks, praying and talking of the past and trying to avoid thinking about what lay ahead.
    But Virginia was all Genevieve could think about. She was delighted to find that Amy Floyd was as eager as she. Surprisingly well read, Amy often talked of her fascination with the American natives.
    "It almost seems unfair, doesn't it," Amy said, "that most of the tribes have been forced to migrate from Virginia. 'Twas their land before any Englishman ever set foot on it."
    "All the better," Nell Wingfield snorted. "Murderin' savages."
    "They're hardly savages," Amy insisted. "Did you know their chiefs rule by the will of the people, selected for their wisdom and ability? 'Tis a sight better than we have in England; we're stuck with whomever the Hanovers happen to give birth to."
    The ship lurched and threw Nell against a beam. "I'm getting good and bloody tired of this," she said peevishly.
    Mrs. Dobbins bobbed her head. "I wish I could have had a private cabin, like that young Mrs. Adair."
    Nell laughed unpleasantly. "In her condition she needs all the comfort she can get."
    Genevieve stiffened. "Nell—"
    "Aye, the woman's got more than seasickness plaguing her—"
    "That's enough," Genevieve said loudly. "You'd do well to keep your gossip to yourself, Nell Wingfield."
    "Gossip, is it?" Nell cocked an eyebrow.
    "Some people," Amy suggested pointedly, "have nothing to say for themselves,