Free Passion's Joy by Jennifer Horsman

disturbing effect of these things caused her pulse to quicken, as a heat spread physically through her limp limbs.
    "There's something about you," he finally said after a long study of an innocence so blatantly plain, "something past the breeding in your voice, that makes me truly believe you never considered this." He looked at the boys' clothes as he wiped the last tear from her cheek, his hand traveling all the way down the long rope of hair. He loved braided hair, long braids as Mary once wore. "You are a curious, if not alluring, mix. Tell me, how old are you?"
    Like his touch, his stare was casual, yet assuming an intimacy that would have brought a blush to her cheeks with any other man. "Ten and seven," she finally whispered.
    He would have guessed even younger, but then it was hard to tell with her in this costume. "What's your name?"
    Panic lifted quickly to her eyes. "I can't say."
    "Why is that? Do you think I'm unenlightened as to the activities that brought bounty hunters after you?"
    She gasped in surprise, "You know?" He nodded.
    Running slave ships was no more illegal than stealing slaves to freedom, and she saw how he had dealt with the former. On the heels of a frightened pause, she asked, "Are you going to turn me in?"
    "Why should I? Is there a reward posted for you?'
    The answer appeared in quick renewed panic. There was indeed a reward, not specifically for her by name but for the information leading to or the capture of anyone aiding and abetting runaway slaves. The sum of the reward was monstrously huge from her estimation, and as she thought of it, Ram felt her small form tense before those lovely blue eyes darted to the horses.
    "Easy sweetheart," he warned. "You're not going anywhere, not until my, ah, curiosity is at least partially satisfied, and besides," he said to put her back at ease long enough to answer his questions, "Whatever that reward is, I'd wager I spend more on a pair of boots. I'm not motivated by want of coin; but even if I were, I can't fathom the sum that would be worth seeing a noose around this neck."
    He reached out to trace a finger there, and she shivered lightly, then caught his hand to stop him. For a moment time seemed to stop as she studied the size and strength of his hand, the dark bronze color contrasting sharply in the paleness of hers. The effect of his touch was disarming and she was confused by it. Still feeling an odd lingering heat from the line he drew, she dropped his hand and covered the place on her neck.
    This was not lost on Ram, and a small hint of amusement lifted on the handsome features. "Rest assured, I won't turn you into the, ah, so called proper authorities." "What will you do with me, then?"
    "Not," he assured her, "what I might want. I'll send you home. You do have a home?"
    She nodded. "And parents?"
    "No, but I've a guardian, an uncle who's as good and kind to me as any parent might be." "I'm not convinced. What kind of guardian would permit this?" He indicated her clothes. "Oh, but he doesn't know!"
    To his relief, this told Ram that her guardian was not the old drunk at the bar. Still, he said, "Ignorance is hardly an excuse."
    "Well, no it's not, of course." She looked down. "But you see, Jos—my uncle—" she thought better than to name him—"is not well and his illness, I'm afraid naturally consumes his energies and attentions."
    He noted the sadness springing quickly into the enchanting eyes as she spoke of this. "What kind of illness?"
    Joy stared at the ground and hesitated, always finding the subject difficult to face. "He has consumption and the affliction leaves him weak and often bedridden. He's recovering, of course"— her tone lifted slightly, then dropped—"though it does seem to be taking a very long time. I'm told that such is often the case."
    The intensity of the young girl's love for the man-whatever he was—as well as her concern over his health were plain to Ram, not just from her words but by her tone, softened with