Annabelle's Courtship

“I expect you to be gone when I return,” he said, then turned his back on her without another glance.

“Wait!” she demanded before he could leave. “What about my proposal?”

“I’m not interested.”

“Please listen,” she implored, clutching his sleeve. “You have not heard my idea.”

He turned to her with a scowl. “I don’t need to.”

“Please, I’m desperate. Do you think I would have come here, suffered you calling me a light skirt and virtually risked my life to barge into your cabin if I was not?” After a weighty pause, he replied, “Not unless you’re a half-wit. Are you?” Christina swallowed her anger and forced herself to meet his stare. “I will not leave until you listen.”

His dark eyes behind the ebony mask gleamed as they scanned her up and down, heightening her anxiety—and awareness. She bit her lip in worry, wondering how to shift the conversation back to her purpose—hoping the warm, foreign vibration plaguing the pit of her stomach would cease.

“Perhaps we could do business…for the right price.” A provocative note inched back into his voice. “What do you seek?”