The Beauty of the Mist by May McGoldrick Read Free Book Online Page B

light from a lantern that had been hung there flooded into the cabin. Turning, he let his eyes scan the tiny space, pausing on the pile of wet clothing sitting at the far end. There, on top of what appeared to be the dress and the cloak that Maria had worn, lay her wet undergarments. He smiled wickedly as he thought how shocked her expression would be to know he had laid eyes on something so private. Taking a step back to the cabinets, he looked once more for the object that he’d knocked from the ledge.
    Directly in front of him John spotted a glimmer of light in a crack between the decking and the base of the cabin’s solitary bunk. Leaning down and carefully taking hold of it, he extracted the item from its hiding place. It was a ring at the end of a gold chain.
    Straightening himself to his full height, he held the chain up and gazed at the exquisitely fashioned gold ring. The dim light in the room would not let him see more of the design, but of one thing he was certain.
    What he held in his hand was a wedding ring.
     
    Maria turned and looked again in the direction of the partially open door. She wondered what he could be doing. She sensed that he had gone for another wick lamp, but she had seen nothing of the sort when she’d changed into the dry clothes.
    She wished she could smooth back the loose strands of her thick, black hair. But as time passed, she was finding her throbbing hands more and more useless. She could feel the loose knot of hair was still held in place with the combs, but she wondered for how long. Glancing down at the square neckline of the borrowed dress, she gingerly smoothed the backs of her hands over the tight, embroidered bodice. She didn’t want to dawdle over silly fancies, but somehow, suddenly, it mattered to her how she looked.
    Maria saw the flicker of the candle before she saw the man. Feeling an unexpected flutter in her stomach, she twisted quickly back in her seat, staring ahead and pretending disinterest.
    John placed the candles on the table beside a large bowl of fresh water and began to unroll the dressings. He opened the corked jar, keeping his eyes on her.
    It was not unlikely, he decided. The ring. It had to be hers. Thinking about it more rationally, it only made sense. A young woman, as beautiful as she would quite naturally be married. Even at her age. But where was her husband? John thought. More than likely he was not on the sunken ship, for she showed no sign of mourning. Perhaps the man was waiting for them at their destination. Of course, that was it, he decided, fighting off the irritation that was creeping into corners of his consciousness. Some young caballero newly returned from the New World, probably. Pockets filled with silver and gems for his young bride.
    Maria pulled back her face in surprise as the odor from the jar reached her nose. “It’s...it’s rather foul!”
    He sat down before her and started unwrapping the soiled dressings on her hands. “I can see you have not spent much time at sea.”
    “What makes you say that?”
    Above the line of the dress, the skin of her bosom, her neck, her face glowed in the lamp and candle light. John could see the flutter of her pulse at her throat. Her eyes, wide and dark, shone questioningly. Damn.
    “This smell is hardly foul. If you were more experienced in sea travel, you’d probably consider it pleasant.”
    “I like the salt smell of the sea.”
    “Do you, lass?”
    She leaned forward and smelled again. “What is that...sharp smell!”
    “Turpentine,” he responded. “Egg yolk, rose oil, and turpentine.”
    “I’ve never heard of this...turpentine before,” she whispered. “But it sounds like a strange mix.”
    “Aye, but it works. It’s more effective than sea water, and infinitely less painful than hot oil.” John pulled away the last of the loose dressing and frowned at the sight of her palms and fingers.
    Maria followed his gaze and stared with an odd sense of detachment at her hands.