Page 5 of Miss Wylde and the Wynd

Chapter Two

The sailor was most definitely a female, but more girl than woman. She likely wasn’t even free of the school room yet given her dark braids. But there were other observations that convinced him that she couldn’t be more than six-and-ten, or possibly younger. Her face was youthful, for one, with a pert nose, large brown eyes, and a smattering of light freckles across her nose. Damian assumed that her frame was slight, but it was difficult to tell in her too large clothing. She did only come up to his chin, so it was possible that she had not even finished growing yet. A mere child.

Had she run away from her home, or was she an orphan who came to England for a better life? Were her parents sick with worry and wondering where their daughter had disappeared to?

None of that mattered. What did, was that she had stowed away on one of his ships.

Damian did not let the girl get ahead or behind but kept pace at her side, not fully trusting that she wouldn’t attempt to escape a second time.

“Damian.”

He looked for who had called his name only to note Caroline, Sterling’s new wife, approaching.

“Is Sterling still at Trade Wynd?” she asked.

He hadn’t even seen Sterling there earlier. Damian only knew of his presence because of Livia. “I do not know,” he called.

And, in that instant, while his attention was diverted, his stowaway disappeared from his peripheral vision.

“Bloody hell.”

Ignoring Caroline, Damian took off after the girl as she disappeared down another street. So long as he kept her in his sight, Damian knew that it was only a matter of time before he caught up to her simply because he was faster and had longer legs.

She turned the corner as she reached the next street, which was poor planning on her part as it had her running toward the docks instead of away. Still, Damian knew that he must run faster or he might risk losing sight of her.

As residents were entering and exiting shops, he left the walk and ran through the street where there were fewer obstacles to slow his pursuit. He reached the corner just in time to see the girl dart down another street.

Blast! She was quicker than he gave her credit for.

However, he also knew where that street ended and she would be forced to turn again when she reached a retaining wall left over from the walls built to defend the city sometime during the fourteenth century. So, instead of following, he hurried to where she would be forced to emerge and waited out of sight. As soon as she exited and paused for a breath, Damian came up from behind and looped an arm around her middle and lifted her from the ground.

“I believe that is enough running for one day.”

She gave an outrageous squeak of surprise, which he ignored.

The girl certainly weighed little more than a juvenile. Maybe she was even younger than he had assumed.

However, when her fingernails clawed at his arm, Damian turned the stowaway and tossed her over his shoulder no different than a bag of grain.

There was a gasp at his back, then a fist pounded against him, but it was only a minor distraction and certainly not painful.

She then started kicking, which Damian quickly subdued with an arm around her calves before one of her toes caused serious discomfort.

“Let me go.”

“If and when you provide a reasonable explanation for stowing away on one of my ships,” he returned. “Or you can tell me while I take you back, which will save us both time,” Damian offered, turning his head so that she could hear him better only to note that he was now looking at her rounded bum, protruding in the air because of how he was carrying her.

That was not the bottom of a lad or any juvenile, and despite her slight frame, the stowaway was not simply a girl. In fact, as his pulse settled now that he was walking at a more sedate pace, Damian also noted the soft breasts pressed against his back.

If he set her down, no doubt she would attempt to run off again and he would be chasing her a third time and he had far more important things to do. Though improper, carrying her in this manner was most expedient. Besides, just because she had breasts and a shape that was more woman than a child did not mean she didn’t still belong in a schoolroom and be no more than six-and-ten. Too young to be allowed to roam around alone.

*

“Why were you on one of my ships?” he demanded.

My ships? He had said that before, but Trade Wynd was owned by the Earl of Wyndham and the man carrying her was not the earl. Then again, if he worked for Trade Wynd maybe he considered the ship his, like she referred to the house owned by her father as her home.

Georgiana pondered who he could be as he carried her back to the docks in the most undignified manner. She had also stopped kicking and hitting because the only thing she was accomplishing was making herself tired. However, she was not going to answer his questions. Instead, she searched for a good excuse that he might believe and allow her to go on her way without punishment.