Free Dawn on a Distant Shore by Sara Donati Page B

islands," came Pickering's
calming voice from the center of the crowd. "They are called ti-nains by
the natives."
    "That's a bluidy fruit ?"
demanded one of the merchants.
    "Ah," said
another, more composed voice. "Bananas. But not of the sort I et in India.
These are much smaller. Damned difficult to transport, in any case."
    "Ha!" cried
Captain Quinn, heading back toward his wine glass. "Fruit! A good joke, that,
Pickering! Fruit!"
    Johnson was still at
the head of the table, peering inside the basket suspiciously. "What civilized
person would put such a thing in his mouth?"
    "I understand the
king is verra partial to bananas, when he can get them," said Moncrieff,
leaning in closer to peer at them.
    Johnson grunted
suspiciously as Pickering held up a single example. "Looks like that
dev'lish surgeon of yours lopped 'em off some poor bugger when he wasn't paying
attention."
    Quinn raised his
glass. "If that's all a man has to lose, perhaps he's better off on t'other
side of the fence!"
    There was a moment of
frozen silence, but Giselle's smile set the room at ease. "Please,
gentlemen, sit down. James, I believe Captain Quinn would do well with some coffee,
but do serve Major Johnson more of the candied quince, that seems more to his
liking. Horace, tell me, where does one begin with your lovely ti-nains?"
    Johnson looked on in
sour disapproval, as if he expected to hear the snap of bone as Pickering
peeled away the dark brown outer shell. The flesh inside was a pinkish tan, and
the sweet smell was clear to them even behind the carved wooden panel.
    "They are best
eaten directly from the tree," Pickering said, putting the fruit on a small
plate and presenting it to Giselle. "But I believe you will still find
them very tasty."
    As she leaned over to
draw in the scent, the serving men quickly peeled and distributed the fruits to
the rest of the table.
    Giselle said, "We
will all sample something so rare, will we not, gentlemen? And perhaps a glass of
Madeira or champagne, and then it's time we roused ourselves a bit. Shall we
have music, or games? What do you think, Mr. Bonner?"
    "Suit
yourselves," said Hawkeye, his arms crossed across his chest and the plate
of banana untouched before him. "I'll watch."
    She brought up her
gaze slowly. "Really? In my experience, the men of your family are all very
energetic sorts."
    "Oh, I don't
doubt they can be distracted from the work at hand, on occasion," Hawkeye
said easily. "It's something a man grows out of, though. For the most
part."
    Giselle let out a
small laugh of surprise at this challenge, but a young lieutenant broke in
before she could respond.
    "This cannot
surprise you, Miss Somerville," he said, waving a hand. "Surely you
know that Americans are not good sportsmen."
    "Not by English
rules we ain't, that's true enough," Hawkeye agreed.
    Giselle interrupted
the young man's sputtering reply. "Lieutenant Lytton, what I have in mind
is not an English game, but a Scottish one, directly from Carryckcastle--Mr. Moncrieff
tells me it used to be played there regularly, when the earl had guests."
    "Hmmpf."
Robbie sat up straighter, looking interested.
    As Giselle explained
the fine points, grins began to appear around the table.
    "Ah," said
MacDermott. "Razzored Harries is what we called it when I was young. In
the end you're all packed together like herrings in a dish of cream."
    Johnson pushed away
his untouched banana. "It's just the reverse of hide-and-seek. It's played
in Shropshire, as well. We called it pickle packing."
    "Do I understand
correctly?" interrupted Quinn, trying to make sense of the game through a fog
brought on by Portuguese sherry. "Should I find the hiding place instead
of announcing that fact, I simply ... join the group already there."
    "Yes, and try to
keep quiet," Giselle confirmed.
    "Quite good
sport." Pickering rubbed his hands in anticipation.
    "Miss Somerville,
may I assume you will be the first to hide?" asked a young merchant.
    "But of course,
Mr.