A Heart's Masquerade Read Online Free PDF

has not tried to kill me, only to best me. I doubt if he would reap satisfaction from my death... unless he destroyed me first," Ransom said, as though musing over the possibility. He frowned. "I supposed he will have to be dealt with again."
    The quiet menace in the captain’s words made Cat shiver, and she said nothing more. The bleak site had stolen her pleasure in the island trip, while the talk of vengeful, plotting enemies raised the hairs on her neck. She did not argue when Ransom ordered Bert to take her back to the ship.
    "And bring Peabody back with you to help us nose about," Ransom said. "Let’s see if we can find any clues in the rubble."

Chapter Three
    Sunlight streamed through the windows of the captain’s cabin, warming Cat’s bare feet as she sat cross-legged in a bright patch on the bed, humming a ditty and mending Ransom’s shirt. Without a proper female upbringing, she had been a poor seamstress. In fact, when Bert had first set her to sew some sail, he declared it the worst job he had seen in more than thirty years of sailing the world’s oceans. In disgust, he had sent her to Bull Marston for a lesson.
    A large bear of a man with scars from head to foot from pirating, privateering, and brawling, Bull had meaty fingers that fairly flew with a needle. He had done his best to teach her, telling her the skill was not all in the fingers, but in the head, too.
    "You’ve got to want to sit still long enough to do the job right. That’s the problem with you young whelps. You don’t want to take the time," he said. But time was something Cat had in abundance, and so she practiced, surprising herself when she actually began to enjoy it. There was something satisfyingly peaceful about sitting on the deck mending the huge lengths of sail.
    With a shrug, Bull had tried to explain it. "Sometime I just need to keep to myself, instead of getting in a ruckus."
    Cat held up the captain’s shirt and surveyed her work critically. It wasn’t too bad, although Ransom would complain about a cabin boy who couldn't sew a straight stitch. Cat smiled at the irony. If he only knew. But needlework was not the only female accomplishment she lacked.
    She could not pretend to paint watercolors or sing a pleasing note or engender anything except dismay by her turns at the pianoforte. The life of a lady, which seemed to involve the dullest of activities, had held little allure for Cat, who had preferred climbing trees and frequenting the stables.
    But she was an excellent horsewoman, and she’d devoured books. She spoke fluent French and knew a healthy amount of Latin and Greek, too, as well as mathematics and geography and all that Budd had taught her.
    In the back of her mind, she’d known her future required different skills and talents, and yet she had staved off preparing for that eventuality. And now... Through the twists and turns of fate she found herself in a most enjoyable position. She delighted in the new sights and sounds of the West Indies, and she found no fault in her shipboard activities, especially when they included Ransom Duprey.
    Her worship of the captain had earned her the nickname Ransom’s Bootlicker among some of the more obnoxious members of the crew, but Cat didn’t care. She liked being with him. She had come to love the lazy smile that reached his eyes and the sardonic lift of his brow.
    A soft grin played upon her lips as she thought of him, and with a sigh, she folded his shirt and placed it neatly away. It seemed that he was forever invading her thoughts, and she dislodged him with a quick shake of her head before going up on deck.
    There she came upon Harry Fields and Joe Williams lazily throwing their knives at a knot in the wood. Small, dark-haired, and wiry, Harry had become a special friend of hers, and he was seldom without Joe, who loomed over his smaller counterpart. Although his slow wits often made him the butt of Harry’s jokes, Joe was devoted to his companion.
    When the two