Stronger Than Passion by Sharron Gayle Beach Page A

assisted ashore, Michael’s attention returned to the present. He took Christina’s arm when her balance faltered due to unsteady legs; he guided her to a waiting mule-drawn valenta, and helped her inside. Then he turned, peering into the shadows, where Christina barely made out the figures of three or four persons; and he smiled. Immediately, a feminine voice called out in English.
    “Was you wantin’ something, Honey?”
    Michael moved forward and leaned against a signpost.
    “That depends. Let me see you - all of you.”
    Into the murky light came a group of women, all with high-piled hair and simpering faces. Christina had seen their like before, parading on other wharves in other cities; she knew what they were, But she had never been so close to one of the creatures. She sat frozen, unable to believe Brett would solicit one before her very eyes!
    The boldest of them stepped out from the rest. She was dark, with large, ruby-red lips; probably a Zambo, of Negro and Indian origin.
    “So, Señor, you like what you see?”
    Michael seemed to consider. Then he reached a hand into his waistcoat pocket and jiggled some coins. “I have good money here for any of you ladies desiring a little honest employment. The job involves travel and is conducted in a basically upright position.” He grinned at their pouts, and waited. One of them wandered off, another of them snorted. But a small figure who had been standing behind the rest crept forward.
    “I be looking for a regular job, M’lord” she whispered.
    Michael focused on her. Pale, plain, freckled face, some kind of reddish-colored hair. Dressed in a high-necked gown that looked hot and much-worn, but was probably of English make.
    “What’s your name?” he asked.
    “Penny, M’lord.”
    “Because that is all any man will pay her!” the dark girl sang out.
    “Tis not! Me Mum named me Penny on account of me copper hair!” She glared at the Zambo with both fists clenched until the girl backed away. Then she turned towards Michael, her stance again reverting to shyness.
    He was amused. “Well, Penny, what do you say to traveling to America?”
    “Am I to be maid to her ladyship there?” she asked.
    “That’s right. The position is yours if you want it.”
    Penny looked from Michael to the open valenta where Christina sat horrified. Then she smiled - a wide, gap-toothed, eye-crinkling grin. “I always wanted ter be a real lady’s maid. Aye, M’lord, I accept yer position.”
    “Very good. You may attend her ladyship at the Alvarado paseo two blocks east. We’ll leave for American as soon as I am able to book passage.”
    “Thank you, M’lord. I can’t say as I’ll be sorry to leave this hell-hole!”
    Michael turned away, grinning, and climbed into the valenta beside Christina. He gestured to the driver, who flicked the reins gently until the mule started off, at a slow walk.
    *
    Christina refused to speak to Brett during the short trip to the hotel.
    A prostitute! He had engaged a puta as her maid!
    But when Penny came to her later that night, as she sat locked inside a small bedroom, Christina hadn’t the heart to refuse the anxious girl’s services. Penny was so eager to be of help that Christina felt her rage soften. Particularly after hearing the girl’s account of being duped by a fiancé into leaving London for Havana, only to be heartlessly betrayed, and left there alone. According to Penny, a life on the streets was her only recourse.
    Christina was dubious about that part of the story, but skipped any further questions. At least her new maid was feminine company. And to Christina, used to being surrounded by women. Penny’s presence made her captivity seem less sordid.
    She never knew exactly what Michael told Penny regarding his keeping her prisoner. He must have said something, since Penny knew that the two of them were locked into her room at the paseo and only she was ever allowed to go out. But Christina was unable to discuss her