Free Destiny's Magic by Martha Hix Page A

britches.
    Burke, so lofty and menacing and enraged, his green eyes sharp as daggers, did ghastly things to Susan’s nerves. He’d never agree to New Orleans now.
    Flipping the single braid over her shoulder and dropping her gaze to the floor planks, she could have kicked herself for not staying with Pippin on his search-and-retrieve mission. She’d drawn attention, combing the decks, so a cake for the weary captain had seemed a good idea. Not now. She waited for Burke to expand upon Snooky’s unwelcome presence in the hallowed balls of the Yankee Princess. Her wait did not prove protracted.
    â€œYou brought a snake aboard,” he repeated, this time evenly. “Why? Why do you let your son keep such a pet?”
    â€œSnooky is old as the hills, defanged. Nonpoisonous.”
    â€œRight. And my name is Jolly Roger.”
    Yes, he was about as jolly. “Snooky may look like an African cobra, but he’s of a less treacherous family. Besides, he’s been cleaning up your mouse problem. That lad’s handy. You do know you’ve a problem with mice, don’t you?”
    â€œAye, I know. Even a new vessel isn’t without such nuisance,” Burke said, his tone hinting at conversational. “Pet or not, that reptile scared the piss out of Throck. Literally.”
    She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
    Hands fisted at his sides, the captain stepped toward her. His tone held the chill of Snooky’s scales as he said, “Find and get rid of the snake.”
    â€œPippin will catch him.”
    Burke’s teeth clenched, his upper lip curling in annoyance. “If my men find that cobra first,” he warned, picking up an apple from a bowl to pitch it down the galley and out an open porthole, “it’s a swim for your boy’s pet.”
    How utterly compassionate, how supremely generous. How like Orson! “You do make the rules, Captain. But I pray you’ll think twice before crushing Pip’s feelings.”
    â€œCap’n! Where are ye, man?” Throck barreled into the kitchen. The placket of his canvas britches showed a drying stain. “The lad found yon slimy cretin! In a pile of yer auntie’s knickers is where. Had to put an arm around the lass, I did, to comfort her.” Wholly pleased at being a hero, he added, “She’s a bonny one, that Miss Phoebe. Always thought so.”
    â€œWhere’s Pippin and the cobra?” Burke wanted to know.
    â€œBlimey, they got away again! Run for cover, the whelp has. He’s down in the engine room.”
    Susan’s eyes begged clemency. For a moment he stared at her. “Are you certain it’s safe for him to have that snake?”
    She nodded. “I’m certain.”
    â€œGet back to your watch, Throck. Leave the lad be.”
    A stout hand lifted in salute. “Aye, aye, Cap’n.”
    The heavy thump of boots echoed through the galley as Throckmorton lumbered away to perform his duty.
    â€œThank you, Burke, for the concession. It was good of you . . .” Never had Orson backed down. Her malevolence lessened momentarily. “You hide a gentle heart beneath your diatribes.”
    â€œThe question isn’t what I’m hiding. The question is—what are you hiding?”
    â€œNot a thing in the world.”
    â€œRight.” He lifted his injured hand to scratch his jawline. “You and I have a problem. More than one. None has anything to do with that snake.”
    He advanced toward her. When she recoiled, her foot tangled with the dropped knife. She deflected Burke’s touch, reached for the fallen utensil, and heard him inhale before asking, “What are you doing, dressed like a tart?”
    Mama Loa! This peasant blouse did expose too much of her bosom, with her reaching down like this. She straightened and pulled up the bodice as best she could, both to cover her flesh and the contusions that shamed her.
    His heated