Captain's Bride Read Online Free

comer of the room,
most of the young men stepped away from the girl gowned in white,
and a last stem glance from Julian sent the handsome brown-haired
man, who seemed to be the girl’s most ardent suitor, scurrying to
the punch bowl.
    “Glory, I’d like you to meet Captain Blackwell.
Nicholas, my daughter, Glory.”
    Glory extended a slim hand, and Nicholas Blackwell
bowed slightly, bringing her gloved fingers to his lips. Though the
gesture appeared gallant, it somehow lacked sincerity, and Glory
wondered why.
    “It is a pleasure to meet you, sir,” she said,
meaning it. Her father had been praising the virtues of Nicholas
Blackwell for as long as Glory could remember.
    “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Summerfield, I assure
you,” the captain said. His dark eyes roamed over her in a manner
that sent bright color to Glory’s cheeks.
    “Father has spoken of you often,” she said, her hand
still in his, “always with glowing accolades. But I must confess,
Captain, I expected a much older man.”
    “Then I’m sorry to disappoint you,” he said. And
Glory knew without doubt the captain knew he hadn’t. Nicholas
Blackwell was rakishly handsome, with angular features, curly black
hair, and a swarthy complexion that gave him a slightly foreign
appearance, though Glory knew him to be of English and French
Creole descent. His black evening clothes fit his tall frame
perfectly, outlining broad shoulders and tapering to narrow hips
and long lean legs.
    “If you two don’t mind,” Julian said, “I believe I
need a drink. Maybe Glory could find it in her heart to grace you
with a dance, Nicholas.”
    “I’m sure Miss Summerfield’s heart is already
overburdened,” he said dryly, “what with every dandy from here to
New Orleans simpering at her feet.”
    Glory bristled. Her father chuckled softly and walked
away, leaving her to duel with the handsome captain alone. Still
feeling the bite of his words and rising to the challenge—the first
she’d had in what seemed like ages—Glory turned the full measure of
her charm on Nicholas Black-well, expecting him at any moment to
crumble and join the others in their adulation.
    “You speak of my admirers, Captain, yet it is you who
have been ravaging the hearts of the ladies this evening. Every
woman in the room has been watching you; I’ve even caught myself a
time or two.”
    “Oh, really?” He quirked a sleek black brow. “I can’t
imagine when you’d have had time.”
    Glory refused to respond to the gibe. The captain
might be a little more sophisticated than her other beaux, but he
was still a man, and when it came to handling men . . . well, she
hadn’t found one yet she couldn’t manage. “I’m beginning to think
you don’t approve of a woman being courted, Captain,” she said with
a pout as she lowered her lashes.
    “What I don’t approve of, Miss Summerfield, is a
woman who leads men to believe she feels something for them when in
truth she is merely using them to feed her vanity. I had hoped for
more from the daughter of a man like Julian Summerfield.”
    Glory felt the high color in her cheeks, which were
suffused with an angry heat. Why, the insolent ass , she
fumed. No longer enjoying the game, she turned toward Eric Dixon,
who had been awaiting any indication his attention would be
welcome.
    Glory forced a smile in his direction, and Eric
stepped forward, a possessive look in his hazel eyes.
    “Eric Dixon,” Glory said coolly, “this is Captain
Blackwell. The captain’s an old friend of Father’s.”
    “Yes, I can see exactly how old he is.”
    Glory had told Eric of the captain’s forthcoming
visit, portraying him as a kindly older man whom her father
virtually revered. No wonder that image didn’t match the other stories she’d heard! The tall, dark-haired captain
with the cool gray eyes was a far cry from the kindly middle-aged
sea dog she’d expected.
    Eric shook hands with an obvious lack of enthusiasm,
and Nicholas smiled