Starlight & Promises by Cat Lindler Page B
Authors: Cat Lindler
and patted her on the cheek. “No long face, Samantha,” she said with the carefree air of one whose head didn’t permanently rest on the block beneath the headsman’s axe. “You can weather whatever he dishes out. Never forget you are a modern woman, and modern women do not pine.”
“Then why do I feel like a prisoner?” Samantha grumbled. “He is exceedingly unfair. He gains a perverse pleasure in torturing me. The way this journey is developing, the first land I shall set foot upon will be Tasmania.”
A sympathetic look spread over Delia’s plump face and deepened the creases of age in her neck and jowls. “I’m sorry, my dear. Perhaps you should agree to stay in Hobart with us. Then the professor will have no reason to be so beastly to you. He acts in this manner only to convince you to give up this dangerous quest.”
“Most certainly not,” Samantha said with a toss of her head. “I refuse to grant him what he attempts to force upon me. I shall not reinforce his despicable behavior. Surely he cannot continue in this fashion for the entire expedition. It must terribly strain his small mind to devise new punishments for me daily.”
Delia’s expression was soft and thoughtful. “You are quite correct. I do not expect he can.”
“I shall simply have to outlast him,” Samantha said. “He expects to coerce me into submission, into giving up. I am determined he’ll not succeed.”
“Of course not.”
Pettibone waited by the gangplank and waved at Delia. When she ignored him, he shook his head and started toward her.
“I regret leaving you alone while we troop off into town,” Delia said, “but I must find a floor that does not sway. I know you will persevere.” She patted Samantha’s cheek once more, took Pettibone’s arm, and accompanied him off the ship.
“I’m not alone,” Samantha murmured. “I have Narcissus to keep me company.”
Narcissus raised his head from his bed on a coil of rope beside her and yawned.
Garrett disembarked next with Chloe clinging to his arm. Chloe, dressed in her best gown, basked under the attention of the handsome young man. She had mooned over Garrett since the first day at sea, and he appeared to return her regard. Another unfair development. Samantha had met Garrett first. He was
her
angel, not Chloe’s. Gilly followed closely behind them with the ship’s purser, Alan Smith, whom she seemed to find at least as fascinating as the footman she left in Boston.
Christian was the last to leave the ship. He paused behind her before departing.
She refused to acknowledge him.
“I shan’t be gone long,” he said, his words coming from over her shoulder.
“You have no need to cut short your lark on my account,” she said, fighting to conceal the tears in her voice.
“Stay in your cabin and catch up on your sleep. The docks are dangerous for a woman, but you’ll remain safe on board.”
When he left, she softly said, “As if you cared.”
After a long, lonely afternoon and a dinner she could barely swallow, Samantha sat cross-legged on the deck under the evening sky and stared out at the city lights, softened into downy halos by the haze of a misty night.
What was she doing here alone? Why had she been so stubborn? From their first meeting, when Christian began to order her around, she should have strived harder to curb her explosive temper. Little good that did her now. She had carried their frequent clashes too far. She normally was not this easily driven to ire, but he had the oddest ability to burrow under her skin and prick her independent nature, causing her to lose her customary restraint. And when that restraint fell by the wayside, he scooped it up and employed it to club her over the head.
Samantha looked up to laughter and the murmur of conversation carried on the air from nearby houses and taverns and sighed. A light breeze ruffled her hair, bringing with it the pungent smell of raw shellfish from an open-air market and occasional
“Then why do I feel like a prisoner?” Samantha grumbled. “He is exceedingly unfair. He gains a perverse pleasure in torturing me. The way this journey is developing, the first land I shall set foot upon will be Tasmania.”
A sympathetic look spread over Delia’s plump face and deepened the creases of age in her neck and jowls. “I’m sorry, my dear. Perhaps you should agree to stay in Hobart with us. Then the professor will have no reason to be so beastly to you. He acts in this manner only to convince you to give up this dangerous quest.”
“Most certainly not,” Samantha said with a toss of her head. “I refuse to grant him what he attempts to force upon me. I shall not reinforce his despicable behavior. Surely he cannot continue in this fashion for the entire expedition. It must terribly strain his small mind to devise new punishments for me daily.”
Delia’s expression was soft and thoughtful. “You are quite correct. I do not expect he can.”
“I shall simply have to outlast him,” Samantha said. “He expects to coerce me into submission, into giving up. I am determined he’ll not succeed.”
“Of course not.”
Pettibone waited by the gangplank and waved at Delia. When she ignored him, he shook his head and started toward her.
“I regret leaving you alone while we troop off into town,” Delia said, “but I must find a floor that does not sway. I know you will persevere.” She patted Samantha’s cheek once more, took Pettibone’s arm, and accompanied him off the ship.
“I’m not alone,” Samantha murmured. “I have Narcissus to keep me company.”
Narcissus raised his head from his bed on a coil of rope beside her and yawned.
Garrett disembarked next with Chloe clinging to his arm. Chloe, dressed in her best gown, basked under the attention of the handsome young man. She had mooned over Garrett since the first day at sea, and he appeared to return her regard. Another unfair development. Samantha had met Garrett first. He was
her
angel, not Chloe’s. Gilly followed closely behind them with the ship’s purser, Alan Smith, whom she seemed to find at least as fascinating as the footman she left in Boston.
Christian was the last to leave the ship. He paused behind her before departing.
She refused to acknowledge him.
“I shan’t be gone long,” he said, his words coming from over her shoulder.
“You have no need to cut short your lark on my account,” she said, fighting to conceal the tears in her voice.
“Stay in your cabin and catch up on your sleep. The docks are dangerous for a woman, but you’ll remain safe on board.”
When he left, she softly said, “As if you cared.”
After a long, lonely afternoon and a dinner she could barely swallow, Samantha sat cross-legged on the deck under the evening sky and stared out at the city lights, softened into downy halos by the haze of a misty night.
What was she doing here alone? Why had she been so stubborn? From their first meeting, when Christian began to order her around, she should have strived harder to curb her explosive temper. Little good that did her now. She had carried their frequent clashes too far. She normally was not this easily driven to ire, but he had the oddest ability to burrow under her skin and prick her independent nature, causing her to lose her customary restraint. And when that restraint fell by the wayside, he scooped it up and employed it to club her over the head.
Samantha looked up to laughter and the murmur of conversation carried on the air from nearby houses and taverns and sighed. A light breeze ruffled her hair, bringing with it the pungent smell of raw shellfish from an open-air market and occasional