He didn’t believe in it, at least, not for him. He’d seen it occasionally, and always wondered at its strength and elasticity. No matter how far Billy roamed, Duncan was always waiting for him. Russell had mourned his wife for his entire widowhood, and Luca’s gypsy grandmother and grandfather had seemed blissfully happy.
But love wasn’t for anyone like him. He was a gyppo half-breed, and there were many doors closed to him, many societies shut off. He didn’t mind the troubles he’d gone through, but he’d be damned if he’d submit his wife or his children to that kind of vicious, casual cruelty.
And God, what was he doing thinking about marriage? Another ridiculous supposition. Except that he’d stolen her from her house, even if it was technically his, just as his family had done for centuries, and she lay in his bed now, mutinous and angry and just ready for him to walk over and change her mind.
He should tell Billy to turn the ship northeast, sail up to Victoria Dock in London, and dump her there. She was possibly the most dangerous female he’d ever met—the most dangerous to his piece of mind, to his carefully ordered way of life. His gypsy blood had nothing to do with his life, except to mark him as one of the unwanted. So why couldn’t
he stop thinking that he’d ended up stealing his bride after all?
The galley was deserted, and Luca began searching through the stores for food for Maddy. She’d probably throw the tray at his head, but it was worth a try.
“What are you doing?” Billy appeared in the entryway. “Mooning over the lass?”
Luca made an extremely rude suggestion. “Why are you down here?”
“I’m looking for you. I left Jeffries at the helm—he’ll be good enough for the time being.”
Luca leaned back against the wooden table that was bolted to the deck. “What do you want? If you feel like punching me it might be a good idea. Might knock some sense into me.”
“Ah, don’t tempt me.” Billy grinned. “Your romantic troubles aren’t at the forefront of my worries right now. There’s a storm brewing.”
“I saw no sign of it.”
“You’re too busy thinking with your John Thomas instead of your brain. It’s a few days out, and I’m thinking we can avoid it if we head west for a bit.”
“Do what you have to do.” Billy had always had a sixth sense about the weather, something Luca envied. Then again, he always knew trouble when it was on the horizon, giving them the choice to dive in or avoid a brawl. So why hadn’t he recognized trouble in the form of Madeleine Russell?
Ah, but he had. And he’d ignored it.
“What’s that you got there?” Billy demanded. “Bread, cheese, wine? You thinking food will do it? I thought she had a problem with sailing. You don’t want to waste good food on a tricky stomach.”
“It’s not her stomach that’s the problem, it’s her mind.”
“I could have told you that,” Billy shot back.
Luca managed a reluctant grin. “She’s afraid of sailing.”
“Russell’s daughter?” Billy didn’t bother to hide his amazement. “Is she a changeling or what? I heard she used to hang around his office all the time and visit the docks with him.”
“She did. She just never got on a ship.”
“Well, you’re already broadening her horizons,” Billy said with a heartless laugh. “Give her enough of that wine and you’ll broaden them some more.”
“Go to hell, Billy. I’m sending in one of the cooks. Maddy would probably try to kill me.”
“Maddy, is it now?” Billy shook his head. “Well, who can blame the girl if she wants you dead? Many’s the time even I wanted you dead. You need to forget about her. Come on out on deck and I’ll see if I can finally teach you the signs.”
“There aren’t any signs, Billy,” Luca growled. “You’ve got a fortune-teller’s magic powers when it comes to weather, and if I haven’t learned in fifteen years I’m not going to start now.”
“Just get it over with and you can get your mind back on business.”
“I’ll get it over with when I can dump her on solid land, as far away from Plymouth and all its ports as I can get.” He picked up the tray from the table and started past Billy. “Get around that storm and get us somewhere safe.”
“Aye aye, cap’n,” Billy said, grinning.
Maddy hurt. Everything in her body hurt—the ropes around her wrists weren’t tight enough to cause pain but she’d struggled so long she had rope burns. Her feet ached from kicking the wall, her neck felt as if someone had crushed it, and her throat was raw from screaming behind the gag. At least he’d left her alone in here, but it was a mixed blessing. It gave her too much time to think.
Her face was tender, her chin hurt, and she couldn’t remember why. The stranger had knocked her across the face—that explained her painful cheekbone, but why did her jaw…?