Captain's Bride Read Online Free PDF Page A

bed onto the floor. A thick Tartan carpet
protected his bare feet from the coolness of the wide oak planks
beneath him.
    After pouring water from the blue porcelain pitcher
into the basin on a marble-topped bureau, Nicholas performed his
usual morning ablutions, dressed in riding breeches and a crisp
linen shirt, and headed downstairs.
    Glory Summerfield, in a light green chambray gown,
was seated in the dining room beside her father, their discussion
animated until Nicholas walked into the room.
    “Nicholas.” Julian stood up and indicated a seat
across from Glory. Louise Summerfield was nowhere to be seen.
“Plenty,” Julian beckoned, “you may serve now.” The buxom black
woman swayed precariously, her pendulous breasts swinging with her
jaunty gait as she moved toward the door to the pantry.
    “Yes, sir, Massa Julian,” the heavy slave called over
her shoulder.
    “Good morning, Julian, Miss Summerfield,” Nicholas
greeted them as he seated himself before an elegant service of
porcelain and silver.
    “Good morning, Captain.” Bright blue eyes met his
boldly and staunchly refused to glance away.
    “Bah,” Julian said, swallowing a sip of his
richsmelling coffee while a tall thin Negro poured Nicholas a cup.
“I’m sure my daughter prefers to dispense with formality between
friends. Don’t you, my dear?” He shot her a hard glance.
    “Oh, course, Father. Captain, you may call me
Gloria.”
    Nicholas almost smiled. “I’m honored, Glory,” he said
pointedly and saw warm color brighten her cheeks to the same soft
coral shade as her lips.
    Julian grinned broadly and took another sip of his
coffee. “Something’s come up this morning, Nicholas. I’m afraid I
won’t be able to show you the plantation as I had planned. My
daughter has volunteered for the task. I was certain you wouldn’t
mind.”
    Touché , Nicholas thought. Julian always was a
sly old dog, but this time his efforts might prove his undoing.
Sending the fox to guard the chickens was always a risky move.
    “You’re certain I won’t be interrupting your plans?”
Nicholas directed the question to Glory.
    “Well, I had planned to—”
    “Nonsense!” Julian cut in. “Of course you won’t.”
    Nicholas fought the pull of a smile. The thin slave
returned to the dining room with silver platters filled to
overflowing: succulent honeyed ham, fried potatoes, fluffy
scrambled eggs, and fresh hot biscuits. Porcelain gravy boats ran
with thick red-eye gravy, and a big bowl steamed with grits.
    “Dig in, my boy,” Julian said with a satisfied smile,
and Nicholas wasted no time in doing just that. Glory only picked
at her food and said little. When the meal ended, Julian excused
himself and so did Glory. She would meet Nicholas out at the
stables.
    Nicholas wandered the grounds of the plantation
absorbed in the hustle and bustle around him. Women in
bright-colored skirts, their kinky hair hidden beneath equally
bright-colored turbans, chattered noisily while tiny children
played at their feet. Some hooked laundry from iron cauldrons of
boiling water with long wooden poles, while others dug in the huge
vegetable garden that ran beside the main barn.
    Nicholas passed through the dairy, where two Negro
women butchered lambs, two more churned butter, and a young boy
forked hay into the manger. Even after his lengthy perusal,
Nicholas reached the stable ahead of Glory.
    A barrel-chested, mud-faced Negro stood ready to
serve him. “Massa Julian say you ride Hannibal,” the man said. “He
a mighty fine horse. One o’ the massa’s favorites.” He sauntered to
a back stall, his heavy-legged stride unhurried, and returned with
a big black stallion. A second trip brought a dancing blood-bay
gelding with four white-stockinged feet.
    “This be Raider. He for the missy.”
    “They’re both fine animals,” Nicholas said, running
his hand along Hannibal’s sleek black withers. “Julian always did
have an eye for horseflesh.”
    “I’m glad you