Into His Arms Read Online Free Page B

spices, costly trinkets that had once graced fair Spanish women.
    Geoff smiled humorlessly. “He was outnumbered four to one when we boarded, so the captain was most generous with us.”
    “‘Tis sure the Spaniards will be cursing your names for years to come.”
    “Aye, I suppose so. For now they’ll be busy enough rebuilding Panama City. The entire place is naught but ashes now.”
    The merchant chuckled. “Well, however you may think of Captain Morgan, the king is sure to love him. More gold for England’s coffers, less for Spain’s. My wife insists that buying from privateers is the same as stealing. By my reckoning, you’re God’s way of diverting funds from the Catholic Church, corrupt old whore that she is.”
    “Well, it would be a lie if I said that I cared about the politics of it,” Geoff replied. Somehow he doubted that the merchant cared much about the politics or religion either. They were convenient excuses for profiting from plunder. Mayhap Geoff was little better than a pirate, but at least he was honest about it. “Still, Morgan could never have done it alone. Show a brave Englishman your favor and take some of this off my hands.”
    He spent the morning haggling with merchants and giving the earnings over to Giles Courtney, the ship’s quartermaster, to be divided up later. They sailed on the morrow, and he intended to enjoy the afternoon and evening. Boston lacked the vast array of entertainment available in Port Royal, Jamaica, but there was sure to be a willing wench somewhere.
    In the back of his mind he could not rid himself of the merchant’s hypocrisy or the maid’s blush at having been chastised for so little a sin as admiring a bolt of silk. Hell of a curse, that, to live in Massachusetts. On a lark, he held back one item, and he tucked it beneath his arm as he strolled, his brown eyes with their golden flecks scanning the crowd.
     
    *
     
    Beyond his view, Faith wended her way through the throng, listening to blends of Dutch, English, and a bit of Portuguese, when a heavy Cockney accent caught her attention.
    “Aye, it’s been a profi’able journey, but I’m fer gettin’ back to Port Royal. The rum’s cheap and the wenches willin’. The fair ship Destiny sails at dawn, and I’ll be ‘ome with gold in me pockets.”
    “Is yer cap’n all they say?” his compatriot asked.
    “Aye, fair to a fault, but ‘e fights lik the very divil. Le’ me say, it’s glad I am to be on ‘is side. I’d not like t’meet ‘im at the other end of ‘is cutlass.”
    Faith froze and fought to stem the impulsive thoughts that flooded her rebellious mind. A ship bound for Jamaica that sailed on the morrow! She had asked God for deliverance—was this it? Nay, to follow such a mad path was to disobey her parents and her church! She would have to travel half a world away to a woman she hadn’t even known existed until yesterday! Mayhap she would only be turned away, stranded in a foreign land.
    Sugar and salt. She was here to buy sugar and salt, not to find passage to Jamaica. Besides, she had no coin to pay her way. And he said the captain fought like the devil. What manner of man was this? She could hardly place her trust in the stranger she had heard the man with the Cockney accent describe.
    Spices and seasonings abounded among the street hawkers, and when she was quite certain she had found the thriftiest bargain for the items she needed, she took out the coin to pay for them. The seller had a fresh shipment of cinnamon, as well, and Faith was reminded that she had used nearly the last of theirs on gingerbread the previous day, so she added it to her purchase. She could see her family’s wagon from the street stall, and since Noah was nowhere in sight, she decided to walk a little longer.
    Destiny . The name of the ship rang in her head like a bell, and again came the niggling question whether this was the answer to her prayer. She told herself that she simply wanted a breath of sea