Page 36 of All is Fair in Love
Her shoulders slumped. “Stay. I baked an apple pie earlier. You are welcome to a slice. Consider it a peace offering. That is, of course, if you are prepared to call an end to this war.”
Always be gracious in defeat. She has bested you.
His father’s words of advice echoed loudly in Francis’s mind. He had lost the battle over the barrels and ropes. Made a fool of himself in the process. Captain Basden was being more than generous.
“Thank you. That would be nice. I take it you went back to get more eggs, Captain Basden,” he replied.
He took comfort from the hint of a smile which sat at the corner of her mouth. For the first time since he had regained consciousness, Francis sensed the captain felt it safe to relax in his presence. “Yes, more eggs. And I was very careful with them as I carried them home. But if we are going to share a meal, I think we can dispense with the formalities.”
A hand was extended, and Francis offered his own.
“Poppy Basden. You may call me Poppy,” she said.
They shook. “Francis. Honored to make your acquaintance.”
Chapter Nineteen
The following morning Poppy was lovingly tending to her new flowers; the bright colors gave her such joy. She hadn’t slept all that well. While the visit from the odious Viking next door had ended in what she hoped was an ongoing peace agreement, its aftermath had resulted in her lying awake for hours pondering the possible repercussions.
Francis Saunders clearly had an issue with the Basden Line Shipping Company taking over the warehouse. With a belly full of booze, and the note clutched tightly in his hand, he had come seeking P. Basden. His haughty demeanor and puffed out chest displayed all the signs of a man spoiling for a fight.
But you encountered an opponent ready to take you on. Someone armed with more than just her pride.
Adrenaline had been pumping furiously through her veins as she’d fired the pistol. Even now, she still felt a little nauseous at the memory of having discharged her weapon.
Taking on the towering Viking should have frightened her, but Poppy had found it thrilling. She knew how to handle a pistol. But her intent had never been to hurt him.
Hopefully Francis had learned his lesson. He had seemed genuinely ashamed of himself as they sat and ate apple pie in the early hours of the morning. While Francis chewed his slice of pie, Poppy hadn’t been able to stop herself from privately studying him.
Her thoughts had started with wondering about what sort of man he really was, but they quickly turned to slowly undressing him. To imagining if his manhood matched his large stature. She should have stopped herself, but the temptation was too strong.
Poppy wasn’t naïve when it came to sex, nor to the ways of men. A man like Francis rarely took defeat well. For all she knew, he had gone home and after a good night’s sleep was back to plotting her demise. If that was the case, she wouldn’t be granting him any further mercies.
Or pie.
“You will have this place looking like a home in no time,” said Jonathan.
She glanced up to see her future intended making his way toward her. Jonathan had been absent for several days, so if she held any sort of romantic thoughts of him, his reappearance should have evoked a sense of happy relief in her. Her heart felt no such thing. In fact, the sight of Jonathan sent a spark of unease racing to her brain. She tried to fight it, but the habit was well ingrained.
You are just tired. Don’t start an argument with him. It won’t serve any purpose.
Jonathan stopped at the end of the planter box. He rested his grubby, scab covered hands on the edge. The cracks on the knuckles were a tell-tale sign of him having been in a tavern brawl or two.
Poppy took a good look at him. Jonathan’s clothes were rumpled, his hair a mess. She didn’t want to even think about the last time he had attempted to bathe.
She didn’t want to think about him at all.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Poppy hesitated for a moment. Francis Saunders might well be a stuck-up hot head, but her ship’s chief mate was a man used to a hard life of throwing punches. If the two of them ever came to blows, she would have all her money on Jonathan.
Yet all-out war with the neighbors wouldn’t do her chances of winning the spice contract any good.
“Poppy?”
“Just getting things sorted out with the Saunders Shipping Company. I had an unpleasant encounter with one of their principals late last night,” she replied.
A firm hand gripped her arm, and she was pulled away from the planter box. Taking a deep breath, Poppy met Jonathan’s gaze.
