Free The Falcon and the Sparrow by M. L. Tyndall Page B

footsteps clapped down the hallway. “Please take William upstairs,” the admiral directed Mrs. Hensworth.
    “But, Father, can’t I stay with you?” The blond-haired boy tugged on his father’s navy coat.
    “Not right now, William. Go with Mrs. Hensworth.”
    Dominique’s heart sank at the dejection that dragged the hope from William’s expression.
    After William left, the admiral marched toward his sister, hand gripping the silver hilt of his sword. “I will not tolerate that language in front of my son.”
    Katharine flattened her lips. “I am sorry, Chase, but you know how I feel.”
    “And you will apologize to Miss Dawson at once.”
    Dominique blinked. Is he standing up for me?
    “I will not .” Mrs. Barton’s eyes simmered with indignation. She shot a spiteful glance toward Dominique.
    “You will”—the admiral crossed his arms over his chest—“or you will not be welcome in this house.”
    “Surely you do not mean that, Chase.” Abruptly she wilted and began to blubber, but Dominique got the impression it was only a charade. “You would choose this…this Frenchwoman over your own sister?”
    “Nay. But I choose not to have my employees suffer the brutality of your tongue. In addition, I choose for you to behave as the lady you claim to be—if not in Miss Dawson’s presence, at least in your nephew’s.”
    “My word, Chase, has she mesmerized you with her French charm?” Mrs. Barton flung a hand at Dominique as if she were dismissing her very existence, then sashayed behind her, circling her in a ring of disdain. “That is what they do. They lure you in with their tantalizing perfumes and sweet words. ‘Oh,’ ” she mocked ina theatrical yet poorly executed French accent, “ ‘ je brûle du désir . Oh, je t’aime, mon chou .’ ”
    Anger surged within Dominique, overtaking her fear. How dare this woman accuse her of such slanderous behavior?
    The admiral snapped his fiery gaze her way. “That’s enough, Katharine! Apologize or leave this house at once.”
    Dominique wanted nothing more than to cross the room and throttle Mrs. Barton silent. But instead she closed her eyes.
    Oh Lord, help me to love this woman who hates me without cause. Help me to see past her anger into her wounded heart.
    Dominique opened her eyes to find the admiral plunging toward his sister, fury pouring ahead of him like waves surging over the bow of a ship.
    “ ’Tis not necessary, Admiral.” Dominique spoke up, stopping him in midstride.
    The admiral flexed his jaw and gave her one of those looks that surely sent his crew darting off to do his bidding. “It is necessary, Miss Dawson, because I say it is necessary.” Disapproval flickered in his eyes. “How can you allow this assault on your character without at least accepting an apology?”
    “I told you the French are weak,” his sister hissed.
    Dominique swallowed and, after a quick glance at Mrs. Barton, leveled her gaze upon the admiral. “Because, Admiral, she does not truly means what she says. Her words spring from a wounded heart. How can I fault her for that?” Dominique offered Mrs. Barton a tentative smile. “I forgive her.”
    Her pronouncement struck both the admiral and Mrs. Barton dumb. They stared at Dominique as if she had just declared herself deity. She shifted her stance under their perusal as the seconds went by. Finally, the admiral shook his head and faced his sister, feet braced wide as though he stood on the deck of a warship, face implacable. “Nevertheless, Katharine?”
    Mrs. Barton brushed a curl from her forehead and continued to gawk at Dominique. “My apologies, Miss Dawson,” she gritted out between clenched teeth.
    “Accepted, Mrs. Barton.” Dominique retrieved the tabletWilliam had left on the sofa. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” She started for the door when the admiral grabbed her arm with a gentle yet iron-hard hand, sending a jolt through her.
    “I have something to discuss with you.”
    The smell