Page 28 of The Swan Syndicate
He laughed and tugged her along. “Only to me. But I agree on something more simple.”
She waited by the door of the mercantile while Beckworth paid for a couple dresses and a warm shawl. There was a notice posted on the door about stocking materials for ship repairs. She snapped her fingers, suddenly remembering something she’d overheard at the inn. “My god, I must have had a heat stroke.”
“What are you talking about?” Beckworth stepped next to her and peered outside. “Did you see someone? Stella?”
“Huh.” She looked at him. “Oh. I didn’t hear you.”
He stood straighter and squinted. “Are you alright?”
“I could use a drink.”
“You just had two ales and another good swallow of a third.”
“I think the heat sweated the alcohol out of me.”
“Do you need to sit down?” He took her elbow and glanced around for a place to sit.
She tugged her arm away. “I’m fine. That’s not it. I forgot to tell you that I heard those three men mention something. I can’t believe I didn’t remember sooner.”
“No harm done.” Then one of his maddening smiles slipped out. “Though, is it normal for you to forget things when you’re overheated? Do they have a name for that?”
“Are you laughing at me?”
“I was just curious if it’s something to be added to the list.”
She swatted his arm. “I’m sure it was a combination of the alcohol and the heat.” Her cheeks warmed, and she held her grin when Beckworth’s lips twitched. When they’d first met and had been running from Gemini, he’d discovered a few things about her that he kept on an imaginary list. They were common fears—claustrophobia, heights, and horses to name a few. There was also the seasickness, and though it wasn’t a fear, it still went on the list.
“So, what did you hear?” He stopped when they reached the ship and nonchalantly scanned the area.
It was probably nothing. And what she’d heard had been taken out of context since it was just a couple of words in a sentence. Though, to her, one had sounded French. She was sure of it, which seemed odd with the rest of the conversation spoken in Welsh.
“It sounded like Cheval. I’m not good with languages, but does it sound like French to you?”
“Cheval? Are you sure?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, I’m positive. They also said horseman. Does that mean something to you?”
He glanced around again. This time with purpose as if searching for someone. “I’m afraid it does. And if what you heard is true, we have a problem.”
11
Beckworth paced a short path in their cabin. There was enough space for a comfortable-sized bed for two, a table with two chairs, a small bookcase, and a washstand with a mirror. It was a duplicate of the cabin next door. The two rooms hadn’t existed when Finn owned the ship, but with the war, Jamie discovered additional income sources by transporting the occasional passengers from England to France or vice versa. So, he’d given up a cargo hold and made the two cabins. The only problem with the cabin’s size was not having enough room to pace.
Stella sat on the bed, making her swans. He could only shake his head at the mercurial woman he’d fallen in love with. Most women would want jewelry or more evening gowns. Stella was satisfied with a good bottle of wine, bold coffee, and a stack of paper. A modern-day woman indeed. The thought almost removed the concern squeezing his chest from what she’d learned at the inn.
It was most likely a mistake. She didn’t understand Welsh. The words could have easily been misunderstood. But even so, she had a sharp intellect and an excellent memory. He grinned. A memory that sometimes worked to his disadvantage.
Jamie had returned to the ship shortly after they arrived but went straight to his cabin without a word.
“Stop pacing and come sit with me.” Stella stood to move the paper aside and lined up her birds on the bookcase. She plopped back on the bed and patted the spot next to her. When he stopped but didn’t make a move toward her, she clucked her tongue. “Five minutes, and then you can continue stomping around.”
“I’m pacing, not stomping.”
“That depends on one’s viewpoint.”
He sighed. It was easier to submit than to argue a point he’d end up losing. He had to pick his battles with Stella, and honestly, he could use the distraction.
He sat next to her, and she moved to squeeze between his back and the wall. She massaged his muscles and neck with soft circular motions, gently teasing the stress out of him.
