Page 40 of The Secret of Drulea Cottage
What rotten luck! ’Twould have been much better to spend more time with Santiago than take care o’ a woman who does na need it!
Briony considered walking back to the inn, but then she thought about the moment right before Mr. Calhoun had shown up. She wasn’t sure exactly what she’d been about to say, but now that she wasn’t directly in front of Santiago and could think straight again, she was glad Mr. Calhoun had stopped her.
She still couldn’t believe the way Santiago reaction when she told him about her parentage, but there were still some things about him that didn’t sit right with her, no matter how he made her feel.
Briony needed answers. She had to know what he was hiding from her.Even if that means breaking my word.
*
Several crew members were making their way off theSão Nicolauas Briony arrived. Most of them were very rugged, with dark hair and beards, though a couple had light hair like Santiago’s. She waited politely as they disembarked, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.
“Senhorita!” called one sailor when he noticed her. He was a short man with greasy black hair and an ugly mustache. Briony guessed he was about thirty-five years old, judging from the number of wrinkles etched into his sun-weathered complexion.
She pinched her face into a polite grin before looking away, assuming he would get the message that she didn’t want to talk. She wasn’t that lucky, though, and before long, he and three of his friends were standing directly in front of her, far too close for comfort.
The sailor held out his hand to her, and she shook it for courtesy’s sake. It was sweaty to the touch, and Briony was all too ready to release it. The others around the man leered and spoke among themselves in Portuguese. Part of Briony was glad she couldn’t understand them, for she feared she would only be more uncomfortable.
“I’m looking fer Captain Costa,” she said, unable to prevent a slight quiver in her voice.
“Nay Costa here,” the man replied in broken English. “We help you.” He smiled, revealing several gaps between the few teeth he had. It was a lascivious smile, and Briony had little doubt what sort of “help” he had in mind.
“Nay, ’tis quite all right. I shall seek him elsewhere,” she said before stepping back to leave.
The man grabbed her wrist and tugged her forward. “We love help senhoritas.”
The other men cackled and moved to encircle her. Briony tried to wrench her wrist away, but the brute was too strong. She winced, making the man sneer even more.
Another man slid his hand down her left arm before grasping her shoulder.
“Stop!” Briony shouted, trying to sound less scared than she was.
“We stop when we want,” replied the sailor holding her wrist. He squeezed even harder, and Briony expected he wanted her to cry out from the pain.
She gritted her teeth to keep it in, though, as red-hot anger swept through her veins.These men are about to have a fight on their hands.
The man holding her suddenly released her wrist. “Aaah!” Then he screamed something in Portuguese, and though Briony didn’t know the meaning exactly, she could tell that he was insulting her.
She clenched her right hand into a fist and was just about to hit him in the face when—
“Senhorita Fairborn!”
The four sailors turned their heads, and when they did, their faces paled.
A series of loud Portuguese words came from that same voice, words that made the sailors immediately step back.
The leader of the group flexed his hand and stared at Briony strangely. She looked down and gasped; his entire palm and the undersides of his fingers were a pale pink.
What in the world? It looks like something burned him.
The greasy-haired sailor mumbled something to his comrades, and they all darted off into town like they’d just seen a ghost.
Briony sighed in relief and rubbed her wrist, noticing the start of a bruise. She looked up to see who her rescuer was and spotted the same young sailor she had seen coming out of Santiago’s room with the captain.
Briony wasn’t sure if she could trust him, but he had just saved her from the other sailors, so she smiled in gratitude.
His mouth was set in a stern line, but his eyes were full of concern as he hurried down to join her. “Senhorita Fairborn, did they hurt you?”
“’Tis nothing,” she said, hiding her wrist behind her back.
