Free Moonspun Magic by Catherine Coulter Page B

he’d never heard of.
    â€œHe is still alive, you know,” Victoria said, chewing on a strawberry. “I think he lives in the Lake District.”
    He let her prattle on. Let her enjoy herself for the time being, at least. Lord knew she was in for a crashing fall in London.
    â€œAre you tired, Rafael?” she said at last, shoving her plate back.
    â€œTired? Why ever should I be tired?”
    â€œWell, you have been so very quiet.”
    â€œYou’ve done all the talking. Since I am a gentleman, I would not interrupt you.”
    Victoria hoped he was teasing her, but she wasn’t certain. “You aren’t regretting our trip, are you?” she said at last.
    â€œYes, but no matter.” He shrugged and looked out the inn window to see Tom Merrifield talking to the ostler. He wondered if the ostler knew he was talking to a damned bloody robber. “Are you ready, Victoria?”
    Because of excellent weather and an equallyexcellent pair of horses Tom had bargained for with Rafael’s money—an excellent bargain—Rafael kept them on the road until they reached Broadwindsor.
    He didn’t know the innkeeper at the Bisley and he felt his hands clench at his sides at the man’s leering looks.
    â€œYour sister, sir?” came the oily inquiry.
    Victoria, bless her innocent heart, was giving her rapt attention to the particularly fine molding that was three centuries old and, Rafael suspected, bug-ridden.
    He kept his voice calm, though he gave the innkeeper the look that had brought many a recalcitrant sailor into line. That’s right. I should like the rooms to adjoin,” he added. “One can never be too careful about protecting a lady.”
    The innkeeper drew himself up at that, and crisply called out for a lad.
    The private dining room Rafael hired for the evening was small and rather airless. The furnishings were as ancient as the moldings, Rafael thought as he helped Victoria into her chair. She’d changed from her girlish gown into yet another, equally girlish gown of pale pink muslin. They were served boiled beef, stewed tomatoes, and a kidney pie. He told her she shouldn’t wear pastels.
    She didn’t rise to his bait, and simply agreed with him, which made him frown. “I wish you would prattle a bit. What’s the matter with you?”
    She smiled. “I’m just a bit tired. I’m not used to so many endless hours of travel in a closed carriage.”
    Rafael said finally, “If you would like to ride with me tomorrow, I can arrange a mount for you.”
    Instant color brightened her cheeks and her eyes. “Oh, yes, thank you, Rafael. It’s so very boring, you know, to ride alone. And it was quite hot.”
    She prayed her leg wouldn’t betray her. It was justone day, after all. She took her first enthusiastic bite of the kidney pie. “You said you haven’t been to Drago Hall for five years. Where have you been for all that time?”
    â€œHere and there,” he said easily.
    â€œWhat countries are those? Or perhaps they are capitals?”
    â€œI am a sea captain. My ship, the Seawitch, is docked in Falmouth this very moment, undergoing repairs. If she hadn’t been damaged in a storm, I shouldn’t have met you.”
    Victoria forgot all about her dinner. “Seawitch,” she said, savoring the word. “You are so very lucky. Now I must call you Captain Carstairs.”
    He was peeling a ripe peach. “No, not anymore. My first mate, Rollo Culpepper, will take her over now. I’m going to return to Cornwall and become a landed gentleman.”
    She leaned forward, cupping her chin in her hands. “Five whole years with your own ship. The excitement of it all. Whilst I was trailing about Drago Hall becoming a very boring person, you were sailing everywhere. Did you go to China?”
    â€œChina?” He smiled and handed her a slice of peach. “No, not China. I