Mary's Guardian by Carol Preston Read Free Book Online Page A

his question needed no answer. His next thought was for Mary. He left Joe standing with his mouth open and headed across the opening between the tents. He pushed and shoved at bodies wildly, caring not for the sensitivities he might at another time have observed. He stomped past those he could easily see had no resemblance to the face he remembered.
    ‘Red curls,’ he muttered to himself as he strode around. ‘Where are you, girl?’ He was behind the tents now, scanning the corners, under the trees. He watched for a moment, stunned into stillness by what seemed to be tenderness between two people not far from him. He felt his face flush and wiped at the water still running down his forehead and over his beard. Despite himself he felt his manhood stir and turned away, embarrassed and shocked at himself. What if Mary was with one of these men enjoying herself? What if she had no desire to be rescued by him? What if she was nothing like the girl he’d known? He shook himself of both his doubts and his competing urges and hurried on. He had never been one to give much attention to his manly desires. Not that he hadn’t felt them, and remembered his younger days when he indulged himself with willing young girls in the back streets of Lincoln. But as he had grown to manhood he had been drawn to the protection of those younger than himself. And once imprisoned he had, along with many men, had to suppress any such urges or else turn to practices he had never been tempted to explore. It took only a moment now to turn his attention back to his determination to find Mary. Whether she was willing to be rescued or not, he meant to save her from this debauchery for he knew in his heart that she was meant for better.
    He was close to the foreshore now, shielding his eyes from the rain, scanning the small groups and rolling bodies, some who’d made it onto the sand and found themselves a softer bed than the rocky ground around the tents. His heart was thumping, his fury at what he was witnessing growing by the minute. It seemed like an age before he was finally able to pick her out, and then only because of the sound of her voice raised in wild indignation at some unwanted attention. He spun around, located the patch of ground where he could see a sailor grappling with a flurry of thrashing arms. He rushed toward the spot, pushing aside the drunken man roughly. Before Mary could take in what had happened William picked her up, her legs thrashing and kicking, and carried her behind one of the tents. He dropped her to the ground just as she managed to get hold of his hair and began to tear it out.
    ‘Whoa, lass,’ he yelled. ‘I’m for saving you, not ravaging you.’ He stood in front of her as she scrambled to her feet, arms still flaying about dangerously. He held her shoulders firmly and looked carefully at her face, the flashing green eyes, the red curls now dark and plastered to her forehead. He had no doubt; he’d found Mary at last. ‘I’d hardly have known you but for the threats you were making to have that man’s eyeballs out of his head.’ He laughed loudly and released his hold on her.
    Her arms still tense and ready to defend herself, she stood for moments, gazing at his chiseled face, her eyes narrowed and searching. She stood back a little and looked him up and down. Slowly a grin replaced the scowl on her face.
    ‘Bless my soul,’ she heaved as she gathered her wits. ‘If it isn’t Will Douglass. And what in the name of all that’s holy are you doin’ in this God-forsaken place?’
    William smiled, glad to be recognised after all the years and pleased to see that Mary was not only in good voice, but appeared to be in reasonable health. ‘Same as you,’ he said. ‘We’re all here at his majesty’s invitation, to start a new life in a new land.’
    ‘You would look at it that way, wouldn’t you now?’ She laughed and shook her head like a small puppy flinging off its bath water.
    William took in the