The Duchess and the Dragon Read Online Free PDF Page B

fistful of the girl’s shirt. There was a collective sigh of relief as they righted themselves.
    Before Drake could think better of it, he stepped out of line and was walking to the front.
    “’Ey! What’s to do, ’ere?”
    “You cain’t step ahead in line!”
    Drake stilled the complainers with a look, the mantle of authority still draping him.
    One woman nudged the man beside her. “Who’s he think he is, eh?”
    Drake leapt onto the gangplank, swinging the tiny girl into the crook of one arm. The lad looked up at him with big, round eyes as Drake grasped his hand. “Step lively now, my boy. You can do it.”
    The child nodded, chubby cheeks rounding in a smile. When they reached the other side, Drake jumped down onto the deck of the ship. The girl in his arm hadn’t moved during the crossing, but now cried out for her mother. Drake turned to the woman and helped guide her down to the deck. He then deposited the toddler into her arms. “Your children, madam.”
    The woman stood, mouth open for a moment, and then blushed. “Oh thank ye, kind sir. I was so afeared they’d be drowned afore we ever begun.”
    Drake inclined his head, then turned from her—and stilled. Countless numbers of eyes were upon him. Fool! How could you have forgotten? Can you not for a moment remember who you are now, what you are supposed to be? This was going to be impossible! He gritted his teeth and turned away, following the others down into the hold to claim a bunk.
    A rickety ladder, a creaking, swaying floor, a dark hold, a place where the air didn’t move. This would be his new home.
    It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust. He stared, heart sinking, at row upon row of double or triple-tiered bunks. Alnwick Castle, its grandeur, its imperial force against nature and man, rose up to taunt him. Against all will, a sob grew in his throat . . . followed immediately by shame. Making a quick judgment, Drake staked his claim on an outside row with easy access to the ladder leading up on deck. Some of the others claimed a bed and then returned to the deck for a last look at England before sailing. Drake thought better of leaving his belongings unattended, so he sat on the bed and waited. It wouldn’t do to court more trouble by standing up on deck for all to see him—a fugitive, a dependent on the winds of fate, a poor wretch leaving his homeland.
    His new home amounted to about six feet long and two feet wide, his bed a thin straw-filled pallet on a rickety looking frame. Underneath the frame was the only space to store his belongings and the meager supplies he had purchased for the journey that would take about fourteen weeks. They were packed in here like slaves, except slaves were shackled. Drake’s appreciation for freedom suddenly made itself known, startling him.
    Embarrassment stole up his neck as he realized that he wanted to collapse—to lie on this shoddy iron bed and wallow in self-pity like he hadn’t since he wore gowns. Instead, he took a shaky breath and steeled himself. He would make it to America, get out of this ridiculous indentured servant business altogether, and begin a new life. What he would do to support himself once the meager funds in his trunk ran out he didn’t know. Still . . . news traveled slowly. Perhaps he could join the other impoverished nobility on the new continent.
    He wrapped the thin blanket about him, lay back, and closed his eyes, hoping sleep—and the nightmares—wouldn’t come just yet.

Chapter Four
    Serena stared out her bedroom window, taking in the late fall scene of her yard and street. The leaves were mostly fallen now, lying in brown, tumbled heaps, blown about by the breeze. An old, gnarled tree filled the north corner of the yard, where a wooden swing twirled, the wind its only occupant. She had swung on that swing countless times, reaching her toes up toward the sky. A sky that today was the pale blue-gray of weather coming.
    She smiled as inspiration filled her.