Free The Least Likely Bride by Jane Feather Page B

kidnapping.”
    “You knew who I was; you could have sent word and someone would have fetched me.” The real world was intruding again without her agreement, forcing the magic of wonderland into retreat.
    “Ah, but you see I have no visiting cards. Pirates in general don’t pay calls on the local gentry,” Anthony explained solemnly. His gray eyes gleamed with amusement, vanquishing her unwitting edge of antagonism.
    “Oh, you’re absurd!” Olivia declared, climbing up to the high quarterdeck. “You kidnapped me and took me off to the high seas and my family will all think I’m dead, and even if I ever do get back to them, my reputation will be ruined.
    “Not that that will matter,” she added. “Since I never intend to get married, and only potential husbands worry about such things.”
    Anthony listened to this stream of words as he uncorked the bottle and poured the rich ruby wine into the two glasses whose long stems he held between the fingers of his free hand. He took the scent of the wine with a critical frown, then nodded and passed a glass to Olivia.
    “I trust a vow of celibacy doesn’t also involve a vow of chastity. The two are not synonymous.” He regarded her over the lip of his glass.
    Olivia took a larger gulp of wine than she’d intended, and choked. Anthony solicitously thumped her back.
    “Take it easy. It’s too fine a wine to quaff like small beer.”
    “Oh … oh, I didn’t!” Olivia protested. “It went down the wrong way.”
    “Ah, I see.” He nodded and leaned back against the rail, looking up at the star-filled sky. “What a beautiful night.”
    It seemed he’d dropped the topic of chastity, and Olivia took a more moderate sip of her wine. The sky was deepest blue with a crescent moon low on the horizon and the broad diffused swath of the Milky Way directly above them. The helmsman stood at the wheel, and
Wind Dancer,
once more true to her name, seemed to be playing in the wind over the swelling sea. “Do you navigate by the stars?”
    “A less disturbing topic, eh?”
    “Do you use the stars to navigate by?” she repeated determinedly.
    “After dinner I’ll show you how,” he said, drawing her to the rail beside him, out of the way of Adam and two other sailors, who clambered onto the deck with a table and chairs and a basket of plates and cutlery.
    Adam threw a snowy cloth over the table, lit an oil lamp, and set out two places. “There y’are, then. I’ll bring the meat.”
    “My lady Olivia …” Anthony drew back a chair for her with a punctilious bow.
    Olivia couldn’t resist a little curtsy, laughing inwardly at the thought of her bare feet and her strange gown. The master of
Wind Dancer
seemed to know exactly how to change her mood. With a word, a gesture, a smile, he drew from her whatever response he wished. And while part of her resented such manipulation, another part of her was entranced.
    Adam set down on the table a platter of sliced roast mutton studded with slivers of garlic and sprigs of rosemary, a bowl of potatoes baked in their skins in the embers of the fire, and a salad of field greens and mushrooms.
    “Oh,” Olivia said. “I don’t think I have ever been so hungry.”
    “Well, eat slowly,” Anthony cautioned. “Your belly’s had almost nothing in it for three days. You don’t wish to be sick.”
    “I couldn’t possibly be sick,” Olivia said, spearing a slice of mutton on the tip of her knife. “It smells so wonderful. Adam, you’re a genius.”
    For once, the elderly man’s expression softened and his mouth took a slight curve. “The master’s right,” he said gruffly. “Your belly’s shrunk, so go easy.”
    Olivia shook her head in vigorous denial and took a large bite of meat. It tasted as wonderful as it smelled. She ate a potato smothered in butter and wiped the grease from her chin with the back of her hand, too hungry to worry about the niceties of the napkin on her lap.
    Anthony refilled their glasses and