The Bride Price (4 page)

Later, when the young man walked her to her cabin door, Bryna thought she saw love in his eyes, and she believed that she and Derek would be together forever.

She had believed—until last night. Unshed tears burned her eyes and tightened her throat. Closing the lid of her trunk with a bang, she sat down on the narrow bunk that had been Aggie’s.

Last night she had been such a fool. She had crept out to meet Derek again while her chaperone slept. This time the night had been serene and perfect. The gentle breeze was surprisingly warm and the full moon was reflected on the water. She had flown to his arms, her lips seeking his this time. Then he had led her to a bench, where they’d sat in silence for a time, their backs against the railing as they listened to soft accordion music floating up from steerage. Nestled against Derek’s chest, Bryna sighed contentedly.

“What? A sigh? Aren’t you happy, my love?” he asked playfully.

‘‘I’m very happy,” she murmured.

“As am I, my darling. I will treasure the memory of the last few weeks. I am only sad it is our last night together.”

“Our last night?” Sitting bolt upright, she turned to look at him.

“Well, er, yes.” He did not meet her gaze. “The captain says we’re right on schedule and should arrive in Gibraltar tomorrow. From there you will go on to Tangier to meet your long-lost father, won’t you? After a short visit in Gibraltar, I intend to go home to England.”

“But...” Still searching his face, the girl shifted on the bench until she was outside of circle of his arms.

Derek raised an eyebrow knowingly and shook his head. “Bryna, surely you knew it must end when we reached our destination.”

“I thought—” She suddenly wished the night were not so bright that he could see her.

“I am afraid I know what you thought, my dear,” he chided gently. “I can always tell a woman with marriage on her mind, and I’m hardly ready for that.”

“I thought you loved me. I even let you kiss me.”

“I found it very pleasant, but a harmless flirtation doesn’t mean I am ready to give up my freedom.”

“Perhaps you supposed it to be harmless, monsieur,” she said icily, rising to leave.

“Bryna, listen to me.” Derek grasped her arm to stay her.

Without saying a word, she looked down pointedly at the hand gripping her arm. Then she lifted icy blue eyes to his in an unspoken command.

Derek released her arm at once, but he requested softly, “Stay a moment, Bryna. At least let me explain.”

“Très bien,”
she said in clipped tones, going to stand by the rail a short distance away. “I would like to hear what you have to offer as an explanation.”

“Damn, this is not going well at all.” Wearily raking his fingers through his hair, Derek moved to stand behind her.

“What did you expect?” she snapped at him over her shoulder. “You took advantage of me.”

“I did not take advantage of you, Bryna.”

“What do you call stealing kisses on a dark deck?”

“Stolen? I judged them freely given,” Derek responded tartly. “Are you truly so naive you do not know what could have happened between us?”

When she refused to answer or even to look at him, the young man took Bryna’s arm and gently turned her to face him. His hands on her shoulders, he bent toward her, speaking to her as if she were a child. “I never behaved as less than a gentleman with you. But I never offered more than the time we had together here. I enjoyed our little shipboard romance, didn’t you?”

“Shipboard romance?” He felt her body stiffen under his hands. “Is that all it was to you—a way to relieve the tedium of a long sea cruise?”

In the darkness, he flushed at the accuracy of her accusation. He had known he wanted to kiss her, to hold her in his arms, from that first day at the dock in Bermuda. Impatiently he countered with a challenge. “Can you say you did not enjoy our time together?”

When she still did not answer, he continued, “You are very sweet, Bryna, but I cannot wed you or even court you. Try to understand: when I marry, I need a wife with position and influence.”

“I do understand.” Her face, pale in the moonlight, was set and angry as she stared up at him.

“No, you don’t,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “I think you’re an exquisite, delightful girl, Bryna, but if I cannot marry you, I will not insult you by offering you anything less.”

“Do you really think I would consent to anything less?” She drew herself up proudly and glared at him.

“Nothing I say seems quite right tonight.” Derek sighed, wishing he could undo the damage of this conversation. “I am sorry if I hurt you.”

“I do not need your apologies, Monsieur Ashburn, or your pity,” Bryna replied curtly. “Good night and good-bye.” With all the dignity she could muster, she turned and walked away.

“See the tall mountain oer there?” Aggie pointed across the narrow Straits of Gibraltar toward the purple hills of North Africa. “That’s one of the Pillars of Hercules, Jabal Mūsā.”

Bryna listened politely, her face set resolutely toward shore. She presented a rigid back to the travelers ranged along the deck behind her, but she was acutely aware of them and grateful that Derek was nowhere to be seen.

“Soon ye’ll see something truly magnificent.” The woman turned her eyeglasses to the port side of the ship. “Any moment now.”

Just then the
Mab
veered toward the coast of Spain, and before them rose a mighty rock that could only be Gibraltar.

“Look at it!” Aggie cried, disarranging her elaborate hat with her lorgnette as she bounced with excitement. “What a bonny sight! And what a fine thing to be home again!”

“It is impressive,” Bryna agreed, squinting against the blinding sun. Above them the cliff face loomed, gray and barren against the vivid blue sky.

‘‘‘Tis indeed,” the Scotswoman agreed proudly. “Its Arab name is Jabal Târiq, after the Moorish sultan who conquered Spain.”

“I thought there was a city here.” A woman’s plaintive voice reached them from down the deck. “I thought we were going ashore.”

“We will indeed go ashore, madame,” the captain answered heartily, “but I fear you’ve been misinformed. Gibraltar is not a city, only a small town.”

“I do not see how anyone could live in this desolate place,” the woman responded dubiously. “It looks as if it is washed by the sea on every side.”

“We know better.” Aggie winked at her young friend merrily. Barefoot sailors scampered in the rigging overhead, furling the sails as they were lowered. The
Mab
veered again slightly and the tiny town of Gibraltar, built in a cleft between cliff and sea, came into view. Slowly now the ship neared the dock. On shore, the scarlet uniform of the English army and the plaid kilts of the Highland regiment stood out in sharp contrast with the somber black suits of Spanish merchants and the white robes of city Arabs.

“Where can Gordon be?” Aggie fretted, peering anxiously through her lorgnette. “Surely he’ll nae be late to meet me.” Suddenly the sweep of her spectacles over the dock halted and she clutched Bryna’s arm with her free hand. “There he is. That’s my Gordon, that handsome man comin’ around the warehouse there. D’ye see him?”

“I see him,” Bryna affirmed. She spotted the portly man with flaming red hair and whiskers emerging from a narrow side street and picking his way through the dark-skinned crowd. It would be difficult to miss Gordon Moore anywhere, she decided.

Suddenly the girl’s gaze fell on a slender young man wearing an English uniform, and her heart gave a lurch. His nonchalant stance and sleek good looks reminded her disturbingly of Derek. Quickly she averted her eyes, her attention returning to Aggie’s smiling husband. Gordon stood with his hands clasped behind his back. The picture of a prosperous merchant, he rocked gently on his heels while he waited for the
Mab
to tie up.

Dragging the girl by the hand, Aggie charged toward the gangplank, nearly bowling over the more sedate passengers in her path. She and Bryna were the first to disembark. Gordon stepped forward expectantly, and the couple flew to each other’s arms, both talking at once, excitement broadening the burr in their voices.

Unwilling to intrude on the joyful reunion, Bryna lingered near bottom of gangplank. Awkwardly she turned to watch the other passengers disembark. When Derek appeared at the top of the gangway, she whirled hastily and found Gordon inspecting her curiously.

She was a comely lass, the Scotsman decided at once, a bit tall, but she had a fragile look about her with that dark hair and fair skin. He suspected strength and determination were masked by those delicate features that with enormous blue eyes gave her face an almost fairylike quality. Her pale blue traveling dress was modest in cut and very proper, but it did not disguise the curves of her slender figure. At the base of her throat nestled a simple oval locket, engraved with roses. She wore no other jewelry, but she bore herself like a queen.

“Aye, ye’re an O’Toole.” He nodded approvingly. “I can tell just by looking at ye. My Aggie says ye’re a fine lass. Welcome to Gibraltar, Mistress Bryna. I’m Gordon Moore.”

“Bonjour,
M’sieur Moore, and thank you. I am pleased to meet you at last. Your wife has told me so much about you.”

“All of it fond lies. Ye know my Aggie is blind, but did ye mow her blindness was caused by love?” With a grin he drew his protesting wife to his side. “I do nae see yer father,” he said to Bryna. “If I know Blaine O’Toole he dinna know which boat ye were on or he would hae been here. Do nae worry aboot a thing, lass. We’ll take ye to our house and send word to him.”

“Merci.
How long will it take him to arrive?”

“If he’s in Tangier, he should be here within two days. If nae, it may take a bit longer. But no matter, ye’re welcome to stay wi’ us as long as ye need to.”

* * *

Across the dock, Derek joined his cousin, Frederick Masterson.

“Welcome to Gibraltar, cuz,” Freddie greeted him. “Ready for a bit of fun?”

“I could use some excitement,” Derek agreed heartily. “Lord, but I’m tired of serving in every dead little outpost in His Majesty’s realm. I am thinking seriously of resigning my commission.”

“No.” Freddie was shocked. “You’ll feel differently after your furlough.”

“I doubt it. I haven’t had a reasonable assignment in two years. You can’t imagine the heat in the Caribbean.”

“And you can’t imagine the heat in the Mediterranean,” Freddie answered blithely. “Well, I vow our casinos will outdo anything they’ve got in Bermuda.”

“You can be sure of it.”

“I say, are you still devilish lucky at cards?”

“Devilish lucky,” Derek confirmed, conveniently forgetting the stack of IOUs he had nearly bankrupted himself to pay before leaving his last post.

But Freddie had stopped listening. His eyes were on Bryna and her companions. “I say, who is that beauty?” he asked urgently. “Was she on the ship with you?”

“Her name is Bryna O’Toole.”

“O’Toole? Is she related to O’Toole Effendi?” Freddie asked excitedly. Then, noting his cousin’s puzzled look, he explained hastily, “That’s what the natives call Blaine O’Toole. He is one of the wealthiest traders in North Africa. Used to be a mercenary soldier—a colonel, I think. But he’s a civilian now and made a fortune in spices.”

“How wealthy is this O’Toole?” Derek’s tone was casual.

“Wealthy enough to bribe his way into business in Morocco. No easy task, that. Hear he lives like a bloody king in Tangier.”

“Didn’t the sultan close the country to all foreigners?”

“He closed the interior,” Freddie corrected. “It’s risky, but European ships go in and out of Tangier all the time. A few brave and very prosperous kaffirs—that means infidels, y’know—even live there. You never said, is she related to Blaine O’Toole?”

“I believe he is her father,” Derek responded dryly.

“Do tell.” His cousin whistled under his breath, his gaze still on Bryna. “She’s stunning. Can you introduce me?”

‘‘You’d be wasting your time, old man. She’s a lovely girl, but rather young and unsophisticated.”

“Who cares?”

“Indeed, who cares?” the other man answered slowly. He watched her as she left the dock. There was more to Bryna O’Toole than met the eye, he decided. Throwing a companionable arm over his cousin’s shoulder, Derek urged, “Tell me more about O’Toole Effendi, Freddie.”

“I will, under two conditions.”

“Yes?” Derek regarded the other man warily.

“One, you buy me dinner. Hadn’t finished luncheon when your ship was sighted, and I’m famished.”

“All right. And two?”

“Two, I’ll tell you about him if you will tell me about his daughter,” Freddie bargained with a stubborn glint in his eye.

“Agreed.” Derek laughed aloud.

“Marvelous. Never know when I might undertake an expedition to Tangier myself. Wouldn’t want to miss an opportunity to woo an heiress, y’know.”

“I know, cuz, I know.”

“We really must find you a decent suit of clothes, old man. Ain’t right that you should wear your uniform on furlough, especially if you’re thinking of becoming a civilian.”

“You can take me to your tailor after you’ve told me about O’Toole, Freddie.”

“After you’ve bought me dinner,” the other man retorted. Then, arm in arm, the cousins strolled to Freddie’s carriage.

* * *

“My Olivia dinna need this in Louisiana. I thought ye might use it.” Aggie held out a simple, elegant hat with a thick lace veil for Bryna’s inspection.

“Oh, no, Aggie, I cannot,” the girl protested. “You and Gordon have done too much for me already, letting me stay with you, taking me to see the sights and listening to my problems.”

“Nae such thing. We’ve enjoyed yer company the last two days.” Aggie patted Bryna’s hand fondly. “As for yer problems, if ye’re only hurt the once in love, ‘twould seem ye’re ahead of the game. Besides, Derek Ashburn is nae worth the tears ye’ve shed oer him. One day ye’ll find a good and true man. Naow go on, lass, try on the hat.”

“Merci,
Aggie.” Bryna smiled and obeyed, turning so the woman could adjust the heavy netting over her face.