Secret Harbor by Barbara Cartland Read Free Book Online Page B

there are other things to do in the world which are far more entrancing,” the Frenchman said.
    “Then you must tell me about them,” Grania replied, “to make up for what I have missed.”
    “Perhaps that is something I should not do,” he said enigmatically.
    Then when she would have asked him for an explanation he said:
    “Come along. Let us go quickly and see my ship just in case your father returns before you are able to do so.”
    As if she was afraid that might happen, she hurried down the steps of the verandah with the Frenchman beside her.
    They walked through the untidy garden which had gone completely wild since her mother had left and found themselves amongst the pine trees.
    There was just enough wind to move their leaves very gently and then ahead Grania had her first glimpse of the ship.
    She could see the poop-deck, the fo’c’sle and the high raking masts. The sails were furled, but she had the feeling that they could be set very swiftly.
    Then the ship would be gone, and she would be left behind never to see it again.
    Ahead of them was a long narrow jetty which had been built out into the harbour. The ship was anchored at the very end of it, and there was a gang-plank to connect the deck with the jetty.
    She and the Frenchman walked over the rough unplaned wood and when they reached the gang-plank he stopped and asked:
    “There are no hand-rails. Are you afraid?”
    “No, of course not,” Grania replied smiling.
    Then he said:
    “Let me go first and I will help you aboard, and of course I will be honoured to do so.”
    There was something in the way he spoke the last words that made her feel a little shy.
    He stretched out his hand and she took it, and as she touched it she felt the vibration of his fingers and it gave her a strange sensation she had never had before.
    The ship was entrancing, almost like a child’s toy.
    The deck had been scrubbed spotlessly clean, the paint was fresh, and there were men busy with ropes who paid no attention at their approach, but Grania was certain their eyes were watching her as she walked beside their Captain.
    He helped her down some steps and opened a door, which she realised led into the stern cabin.
    The sun was steaming through large portholes making vivid patterns on the walls of the cabin.
    She had always expected that a pirate-ship would be dirty and disorderly. In the stories she had read the Captain’s cabin had been a dark hole, filled with cutlasses and empty bottles.
    This cabin was like a room in a house with comfortable armchairs and in one corner a four-poster bed with drawn curtains.
    Everything was exquisitely neat and she thought she smelled bees’-wax and lavender.
    There was a carpet on the floor, cushions on the chairs, and on the table there was a vase of flowers which she thought must have been picked from what had been her mother’s garden.
    She stood looking around her, until she realised the Frenchman was watching her with a smile.
    “Well?” he questioned.
    “It is very attractive and very comfortable.”
    “It is my home now,” he said quietly, “and just as a Frenchman likes his food he also likes his comforts.”
    “But you are always in danger,” Grania said. “If you are seen by either the English or the French they will try to destroy or capture you, and if you are caught ... you will die!”
    “I am aware of that,” he said, “but I find danger exciting, and I can assure you, although it seems a contradiction in terms, that I will not take any risks.”
    “Then why ... ?” Grania began and realised once again she was being curious and prying into his private affairs.
    “Come and sit down,” the Frenchman said. “I want to see you at ease in my room, and when you are no longer there, I can look into my mind and will see you there again.”
    He spoke in quite an ordinary voice, and yet she felt herself blushing at what he had said.
    Obediently she sat down in one of the armchairs, the sun coming through