Into His Arms Read Online Free Page A
Author: Paula Reed
sailed them. People came and went around her in the chilly spring air, and it was easy to believe Noah when he told her that Boston had nearly two thousand people living in it!
She was always careful to keep her eyes modestly downcast, but she walked among them listening to their foreign tongues. Sea captains and other men of importance wore elegant coats and frothy lace, far more adornment than the sumptuary regulations of most Puritan villages permitted. Faith dreamed of England, where everyone was so refined. The ships now in Boston Harbor would carry timber, sugar, and all manner of products from the New World up the Thames to London. She tried to envision that faraway city, one that she knew dwarfed the port she currently explored. Mayhap some of those things would find their way to the king. It seemed to her that London was exactly the opposite of her village. It was a city full of changes and chances...and choices.
For a bare moment, she allowed herself to imagine such a life. She would open her wardrobe and ask herself, “Shall I wear this pink gown today or perhaps this lovely yellow one?” She would walk among the shops and dare to choose some exotic scent from the Far East to dab behind each ear. And gentlemen would court her. She would choose a man she could love, not merely accept a man who was suitable. A dark cloud smothered her lovely fantasy. It seemed that she was not to be allowed any choice at all in her husband.
Noah brought with him a beautifully wrought sideboard that had been commissioned by a shipmaster’s wife, and while Faith strolled through the market outside of the Boston Town House, he delivered the piece. She had promised her mother that she would pick up sugar and salt, but as she made her way through the crowd, she found herself distracted by a bolt of peacock blue silk. Glancing guiltily to either side, she reached out to finger the luxurious fabric.
*
It was just at that moment that Captain Geoffrey Hampton spied the pretty little Puritan maid who wistfully caressed his merchandise. He tucked his hat beneath his claret velvet-clad arm, revealing a head of thick, light brown hair.
What a shame, he thought. He knew women well enough to know they had a weakness for lovely things, and here this one was, primly ensconced in a plain russet wool skirt and bodice and modest linen collar.
“Captain Hampton?”
The seaman tore his eyes from the girl to look impatiently at the merchant he had been trading with. “Aye, forgive me,” Geoff replied. “I lost my concentration for a moment.”
The merchant wore somber clothes and a wide collar proclaimed him a member of the same religious sect as the woman. Shaking his head, he looked at her. “Aye, I see what you mean. I cannot fathom what her family is thinking to allow her on the docks unescorted. You there!” he called to her. “I doubt me that is on your shopping list!”
The girl looked up at him and flushed. Whether ‘twas guilt or anger, Geoff could not tell, and she fled before he could determine. He was sorely tempted to take the man to task for speaking so harshly to her, but he smelled money and a sizeable sale.
“I must say,” the merchant said, resuming their previous conversation, “I didn’t expect to see you here, what with so much gold for the taking in Panama. Surely you were there for the raid last winter?”
His question did nothing to soothe Geoff’s irritation. “Aye, so I was. But the Spaniards had taken most of the treasure from Panama City in earlier ships. As for what was left—Captain Henry Morgan saw to the loading of it, and most of the gold went with him and his cronies. We were fortunate to have been left our vessel. As fate would have it, we encountered a small Spanish merchant ship in the Windward Passage between Cuba and Hispaniola.”
“The source of this fine merchandise?” His companion gestured broadly at the array of items that surrounded them—casks of rum, bolts of silk,
She was always careful to keep her eyes modestly downcast, but she walked among them listening to their foreign tongues. Sea captains and other men of importance wore elegant coats and frothy lace, far more adornment than the sumptuary regulations of most Puritan villages permitted. Faith dreamed of England, where everyone was so refined. The ships now in Boston Harbor would carry timber, sugar, and all manner of products from the New World up the Thames to London. She tried to envision that faraway city, one that she knew dwarfed the port she currently explored. Mayhap some of those things would find their way to the king. It seemed to her that London was exactly the opposite of her village. It was a city full of changes and chances...and choices.
For a bare moment, she allowed herself to imagine such a life. She would open her wardrobe and ask herself, “Shall I wear this pink gown today or perhaps this lovely yellow one?” She would walk among the shops and dare to choose some exotic scent from the Far East to dab behind each ear. And gentlemen would court her. She would choose a man she could love, not merely accept a man who was suitable. A dark cloud smothered her lovely fantasy. It seemed that she was not to be allowed any choice at all in her husband.
Noah brought with him a beautifully wrought sideboard that had been commissioned by a shipmaster’s wife, and while Faith strolled through the market outside of the Boston Town House, he delivered the piece. She had promised her mother that she would pick up sugar and salt, but as she made her way through the crowd, she found herself distracted by a bolt of peacock blue silk. Glancing guiltily to either side, she reached out to finger the luxurious fabric.
*
It was just at that moment that Captain Geoffrey Hampton spied the pretty little Puritan maid who wistfully caressed his merchandise. He tucked his hat beneath his claret velvet-clad arm, revealing a head of thick, light brown hair.
What a shame, he thought. He knew women well enough to know they had a weakness for lovely things, and here this one was, primly ensconced in a plain russet wool skirt and bodice and modest linen collar.
“Captain Hampton?”
The seaman tore his eyes from the girl to look impatiently at the merchant he had been trading with. “Aye, forgive me,” Geoff replied. “I lost my concentration for a moment.”
The merchant wore somber clothes and a wide collar proclaimed him a member of the same religious sect as the woman. Shaking his head, he looked at her. “Aye, I see what you mean. I cannot fathom what her family is thinking to allow her on the docks unescorted. You there!” he called to her. “I doubt me that is on your shopping list!”
The girl looked up at him and flushed. Whether ‘twas guilt or anger, Geoff could not tell, and she fled before he could determine. He was sorely tempted to take the man to task for speaking so harshly to her, but he smelled money and a sizeable sale.
“I must say,” the merchant said, resuming their previous conversation, “I didn’t expect to see you here, what with so much gold for the taking in Panama. Surely you were there for the raid last winter?”
His question did nothing to soothe Geoff’s irritation. “Aye, so I was. But the Spaniards had taken most of the treasure from Panama City in earlier ships. As for what was left—Captain Henry Morgan saw to the loading of it, and most of the gold went with him and his cronies. We were fortunate to have been left our vessel. As fate would have it, we encountered a small Spanish merchant ship in the Windward Passage between Cuba and Hispaniola.”
“The source of this fine merchandise?” His companion gestured broadly at the array of items that surrounded them—casks of rum, bolts of silk,